Kate and their father, Frank, were only half an hour’s drive from Becca’s home in Llandudno. It was an easy journey down the A55, but Becca struggled to organise visits because Mia had started to get carsick and always resisted getting in the car, let alone going any distance in it. Becca had a system of bribes in place for essential journeys, but on the whole she either walked or did the shopping and other chores while Mia was with Ruth or Dean. Still, it wasn’t good enough, and Kate was right to say something. Her jaw tightened.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve not been there as much as I should have been. I promise I’ll make it up to you.’
‘And how exactly are you going to do that?’ Kate asked, her tone suggesting that it wasn’t really possible.
‘Shall we check diaries later, see if we can work out a new routine? Make sure you get more time for yourself.’
‘Yep. Let’s do that,’ Kate said, still snippy, before saying her goodbyes and ending the call.
Becca started walking again, her mind darting this way and that, like a little bird trying to catch insects, as she wondered how she could fit everyone’s needs into her tight schedule. Dropping Mia off with Kate and Frank was all well and good, but it added an hour to the beginning and end of her working day, and it wasn’t like she could just roll up there, grab her daughter and drive off when she’d finished, either. There were always things to do, little chores that she got roped into helping with, and her day ended up gone before she knew it. Then she’d have to spend her evening catching up with her own household jobs.
A burst of anger flared in her chest. ‘You did this, Mum,’ she muttered to herself as she stomped down the pavement towards Ruth’s house. ‘You made Dad helpless.’ She was immediately contrite, annoyed with herself for being mean to her poor dead mum. It wasn’t her fault she was an enabler, treating Frank like he was some form of royalty and she was a servant there to do his bidding. It was the way her grandmother had brought her mum up, an old-fashioned woman who’d been ‘in service’, on the staff of the country home of Lord Lowther up in the Lake District. Ingrained subservience. That’s what it was, and Becca had always been determined that she wouldn’t end up in the same sort of relationship.
She thought about the big bags of washing Dean brought home after his trips. All the shirts that needed ironing. The golfing clothes – because if you were running corporate development events at a golf course, it would be daft not to fit in a few rounds, wouldn’t it? And always a present to say thank you for ‘looking after him so well’. It had taken her a while to see the pattern that had formed in their relationship.
I’m just like Mum. It was a truth she was loath to accept but there was no easy way to change things, and now it seemed she needed to commit to keeping more of an eye on her dad as well. Her heart gave one of its palpitations, making her stop and clutch at her chest for a moment. She knew it was stress. Just like the way half her face kept going numb. That was stress as well. And all her stupid little routines that meant it took twice as long as it should for her to do anything. She took a few deep breaths and waited for her heart to settle down before she set off again, walking more slowly, trying to silence the mental chatter.
Her life was spinning out of control, she was being pulled in too many different directions and her responsibilities were multiplying at the same rate as her nervous tics. This wasn’t the life she’d wanted. How on earth do I change things, though? Instead of making things better, all she seemed to do was take on more work for herself as she tried to keep everyone happy. It would be nice to have someone to talk things through with, someone who knew her history, her vulnerabilities, who wouldn’t judge. Someone who could help her get things clear in her mind.
Connor.
His name filled her head again, familiar and comforting. He was, without doubt, the best friend she’d ever had, and she wondered why he’d gone silent after she’d arrived home all those years ago.
Has he replied to my message now? He’d asked her if she wanted to chat. Well, she did. And she would. As soon as she got home, and had a moment to herself, she’d start the conversation, tell him what was going on. He’d always been a good listener. Always balanced in his views with a knack for finding solutions to problems, seeing things from a different perspective. A people person through and through. If anyone could help her see a way out of this mess without letting anyone down, it was Connor.
She opened Ruth’s gate and pushed the buggy to the front door, her fingers itching to check her phone. Before she could reach into her bag, the door opened and there was Ruth, with her tear-stained face, and all thoughts of Connor were firmly pushed away.
5
By the time Becca had comforted Ruth and answered her questions about her treatment and what to expect as best as she could, she was emotionally drained and dreading the drive to her dad’s house. She wondered, for a fleeting moment, if she could postpone but knew that Kate’s patience was at breaking point and there was no excuse for not going.
Mia was tired now after Becca and Ruth had taken her for a long walk along the West Shore, stopping at the playground so she could have a run around while they chatted. It was so much easier to talk about emotional things outside, rather than inside, where you were trapped with the problem, no distractions to remind you that life was bigger than just you, and that whatever happened, you’d get through it. One day at a time. That was always her advice to patients who were struggling. Just get through today, and who knows what tomorrow might bring?
If only she could listen to her own advice sometimes.
Mia fell asleep in her buggy, and Becca was able to get her home and transfer her into the car seat without waking her up, which made the next part of her day much easier than she’d anticipated.
Half an hour later, she pulled up outside the three-bedroom, semi-detached house which overlooked Bangor’s harbour, with views out over the Menai Strait. She’d grown up here and it held a lot of memories.
To Becca, this was where she felt closest to her mum, surrounded by all the little knickknacks she’d loved. Her collection of china animals in a glass case in the front room. All her cross-stitch samplers lovingly framed and hung in the hallway. And above the fireplace, there was the montage of photos that Becca, Kate and their dad had put together. A memorial to the person who’d been the beating heart of their family and whose loss they still felt every day.
She pulled into the drive and Frank, who’d obviously been waiting for them, was out of the front door before she’d even turned off the engine.
‘Becca!’ he called as she got out of the car, delight shining in his eyes, and she felt a new twinge of guilt for leaving it too long between visits. ‘Kate did mention you might come, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.’ He bent to peer through the car window, no doubt looking for his granddaughter. ‘I know it’s tricky with Mia in the car.’
Becca gave him a hug, the familiar smell of Old Spice filling her nostrils. Without warning, her eyes prickled, tears springing from nowhere, and she tensed, pushing away from him before she started crying. That wouldn’t do at all. Then there’d be all sorts of questions to answer, and her dad was not a fan of Dean. She’d never got a straight answer as to why exactly but thought it was probably to do with the fact that Dean had been keen to get married and find a place of their own, taking her away from Frank when he was quite dependent on her for emotional support. Things could get out of hand very quickly and turn into a situation where she was defending Dean; her dad would get all offended that she wasn’t listening to him, and then… She checked her thoughts, told herself to get a grip and opened the back door to coax a sleepy Mia out of the car.