Maggie swallowed. ‘Yes… yes, that’s it.’
She was saddened that Rain had missed out on loving grandparents. Taken at face value, her childhood sounded perfect – scampering around a big farmhouse, playing down at the beach all summer long, exploring caves, being part of such a close-knit group of friends. But that was Claire’s childhood, not hers. Maggie had always left out telling anyone – let alone Rain – the truth about her mother and father, how they’d neglected her, how she’d lived a virtually feral existence on their council estate, fending for herself while they pleased themselves, mainly with fags, drugs and booze.
Thank God for Patrick and Shona.
Maggie’s parents had died since she’d moved away, so now it was her turn not to care. She’d managed OK, hadn’t she? Threading her way through life on the goodwill of whichever well-off bloke would take them on. ‘So, you’ll come?’
‘Me?’ Rain tucked her legs onto the bed, snorting. ‘Come to Cornwall?’
It was the reaction Maggie was expecting. ‘Of course. We’ve both been invited for a week. You’ll get to meet everyone. Claire’s got a little girl and a teenage son called Marcus.’
Maggie wondered if he looked anything like his father, which led her to wonder what Callum, not part of their original group, looked like now. He was a bit older than the rest of them, she recalled, although it had seemed like an entire generation back then.
Rain poked her mother.
‘What?’
‘You’ve got tears in your eyes.’
Maggie blinked furiously. Was it the news of Patrick’s illness that had upset her or that she’d suddenly realised how far off-track her life really was?
‘So, you’ll come?’ She gripped Rain’s hands. ‘There’ll be picnics on the beach, silly games, stories that’ll bore you stupid and lots of pub visits and walks. What do you say?’ It was about time Rain met them all. It might help her understand.
‘I say it sounds the worst way ever to spend a whole week of my summer holidays. But I don’t suppose I have a choice, do I?’
‘Is that a yes, then?’
Rain shrugged again.
‘Good, because I’ve already told Claire we’re coming.’
At last, Maggie thought, flopping back onto the pillow after her daughter had gone to bed. Something good was going to happen.
Chapter Five
‘That’s one,’ Claire said.
Callum put his book on the bedside table. ‘One what?’
‘Maggie said she’ll come to the reunion.’ She’d sounded exactly the same – wild, crazy, passionate, kind. ‘She’s bringing her daughter too.’
‘Great,’ Callum replied. ‘Let’s hope she doesn’t take after her mother.’
‘Don’t be mean, Cal.’ She prodded his arm, scrolling through her phone’s address book, angling the screen slightly away, searching for a particular name. But when she couldn’t find it, she closed the list down. Anyway, she didn’t want to talk to him yet, not until she’d spoken to Jason. She knew they’d been in touch once or twice over the years and she felt it would probably be wise to get the low-down first, though she doubted he was the type to broadcast his life on social media.
‘You’re not making more calls now, are you? It’s late.’ Callum rolled onto his side and pressed his face against Claire’s stomach. ‘Why don’t you turn that thing off and get yourself out of this?’ He tugged at the oversized T-shirt she was wearing.
‘I need to call Jason,’ she said, smoothing down her nightdress.
They usually spoke weekly, and if Claire ever went up to London they’d always meet for lunch to make it seem as if they didn’t actually live several hundred miles apart. Their relationship was strong, unbreakable, forged silently over the years by the sense of culpability they shared. But inviting Jason back to Trevellin was another matter entirely. He never came to the farm. Time may have passed, but she wasn’t sure it was long enough to heal the deep hurt he felt. It could do more damage than good, leaving her stuck in the middle.
Greta answered her call and the conversation flowed as easily as ever.
‘Oh Claire, how lovely to hear from you. No, that’s fine… we’re still up. Sleep is hard now anyway… Yes, I’m huge! Work’s fine, really busy. You? Yes, I’m looking forward to being off for a while though. Sure, hang on, I’ll fetch him.’
There was a muffled sound as Greta called for Jason. A second later her brother’s voice came on the line. ‘Hey, sis.’
‘Hi,’ Claire said, sliding Callum’s hand off her thigh. ‘How are things?’
‘Good. Greta’s massive. You?’
Claire laughed fondly. ‘Everyone’s really well. I tried to call you earlier, but it went to voicemail.’
‘Everything OK?’
‘Kind of, yes. Mum’s thinking of selling the farm, Jase. Seriously thinking about it. It’s all her idea.’ Claire knew that he would be thinking the same as her, as their father – the same as everyone except their mother it seemed.
‘Christ, what’s brought this on?’
Claire explained about how coping with the farm as well as Patrick was getting increasingly hard for their mother. She heard Jason swallowing heavily at the mention of their father. Shame it’s not your pride you’re swallowing, she thought so loudly she worried he’d hear. ‘Anyway, how’s work? Much on?’
‘Zilch,’ Jason replied, no doubt grateful for the reprieve, even if it was about his failed career. ‘If it wasn’t for Greta, we’d be living on the streets.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’
‘Pity isn’t what I need.’
‘Then maybe you need a holiday,’ Claire said, trying to sound bright. She heard Callum groaning beside her, fully aware that he was on a hiding to nothing. He picked up his book again.
‘Greta can’t fly anywhere now. Doctor’s orders. She’s on maternity leave soon.’
‘Then I have the perfect solution.’ She waited, but Jason was silent. ‘I’m organising a reunion. It’s for Dad. I thought it would be good for him if we – you know, all the old group – got together at Trevellin for a few days. We could do all the things we used to as kids. The beach, the walks, the games, tell stories. I’ve done a bit of research and apparently it could really help his long-term memory.’
‘You honestly think it’s that simple?’
Claire sighed. ‘I’m trying to make this all right, Jason. To do something good for Dad… for you too. Why are you always so against stuff like this?’
‘I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t mean—’
‘It’s OK,’ she added quickly. A disagreement could lead to him refusing and she didn’t want that. But for the first time she was wondering who, exactly, the reunion was for. She pushed the answer from her mind.
Callum got out of bed and stretched into his robe. He walked into the bathroom, shaking his head, while Claire lay back on the pillows, closing her eyes. ‘So, will you and Greta come to Trevellin?’
‘No,’ was his instant reply.
Claire’s heart sank. Out of all of them, it was Jason she wanted there the most.
‘I won’t stay in his house. You know that.’
‘But Jason, he’s ill. You have to let this go.’
A pause. ‘It’s not that easy, Claire, and you know it.’
But Claire didn’t know it. She simply couldn’t understand how one misjudged incident had turned into years of bitter feelings.
‘Then stay with us. We have room here. The others can stay at the farm.’ It felt unfair pressing him, but she was determined to do this for Patrick.
‘I’ll speak to Greta,’ was Jason’s final response.
Claire knew not to push further, so she took a deep breath. Callum was still in the bathroom. ‘By the way, I don’t suppose you have Nick’s number, do you?’ There. She’d said his name.
‘Yeah,’ Jason replied. ‘I’ll text it to you.’
And the conversation was over.
Chapter Six
Nick Malone stared at the wreckage. It was the same as his life: the insides all ripped out, a huge amount of vision required to see anything good in the future.
‘You really think it’ll only take a couple of months?’