I was about to ask more but the rest of the family joined us.
‘Astrid’s getting crotchety so we’re going to make tracks,’ Keira said. ‘See you both tomorrow.’
‘Should we start loading the car?’ Regan asked.
With a stack of gifts, flowers, balloons and the cake to carry, we’d agreed that it made more sense to load up Mark’s car than do loads of trips over the road so Regan, Clarke, Georgia and I set to work clearing everything from the conservatory. The boys had already said goodbye to my parents so they headed off once the car was packed. Mark returned and drove his car across to the house and Georgia and I followed on foot, helping him to unload.
‘Thanks for bringing everything over,’ Dad said as he placed the giant eight and zero balloons in the corner of the lounge. ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea but your mum’s gone for a lie down and I don’t want to disturb her.’
‘We understand,’ Georgia said. ‘It’s been a long day so we’ll leave you to relax.’
We both hugged Dad and then I followed Georgia and Mark back to Pippinthwaite in my car. Mark carried Georgia’s flowers and a bouquet of balloons inside then headed into Keswick to pick up a takeaway.
‘I’m shattered,’ Georgia said, kicking off her shoes in the hall. ‘I’m dying to quiz you about Graeme but I’m craving a bath. Would you mind if I abandon you?’
‘Please do. Happy to delay or, even better, forget about my interrogation.’
She shook her head, laughing. ‘Delay? Yes. Forget? No chance.’
Georgia disappeared upstairs and I went into the lounge and flicked on the television but I couldn’t find anything to hold my interest so I switched it off and sat in silence. I felt as though I was approaching another crossroads in my life, this time with three routes. The first involved staying in Newcastle and returning to life as it had been before Graeme – not a particularly appealing choice because it had been pretty bleak. A second one involved staying in Newcastle but coming back to Willowdale far more often. And the third route… I shuddered. Was I strong enough to even consider coming home for good?
‘That feels better,’ Georgia said, appearing in a fluffy dressing gown and slippers a bit later. ‘Sorry about that. So, tell me about Graeme.’
But the sound of Mark’s car pulling onto the drive thankfully put paid to that.
‘You’re not off the hook,’ she said, heading into the kitchen. ‘We’ll discuss this later.’
Tiredness had taken hold of us all and the conversation over food was stilted. Afterwards, Georgia declared she had a headache and needed an early night so I was off the hook after all. I joined Mark in the lounge to watch a crime drama but I soon lost track of what was happening thanks to all the options spinning round in my head.
When the programme finished, I went upstairs to bed. I was usually a good sleeper but I couldn’t settle. The bed in Georgia’s spare room was incredibly comfortable, the temperature was spot on and it was wonderfully peaceful and quiet… except in my mind. No matter how hard I tried to relax, I could not switch off. I kept picturing Mum being helped across the conservatory and, later, across the road and worrying about how much I didn’t know about her health. I kept thinking about how little contact I had with everyone except Georgia and how much I missed being a part of a close family – both emotionally and physically. I imagined my life back in Newcastle without Graeme and tried to weigh up which would be the most difficult – being lonely and cut off in Newcastle, or being back in Willowdale with my family but surrounded by painful memories and at risk of bumping into Flynn.
In the early hours, with no conclusion reached, I gave up fighting sleep and crept downstairs to make a hot chocolate.
‘What are you doing up at half two?’ Georgia asked, shuffling into the kitchen-diner in her slippers and dressing gown and yawning.
The kettle clicked off and I poured boiling water over the contents from an instant sachet.
‘Mind too active,’ I said. ‘Want one?’
‘Go on, then.’
I handed her the mug I’d just stirred and tipped the contents of another sachet into a fresh mug for me.
‘Sorry if I woke you,’ I said as I joined her at the large table. ‘I tried to be quiet.’
‘I was already awake.’ She stirred her drink. ‘It’s not quite the same as a bottle of wine, but how about you tell me about Graeme over a hot chocolate instead?’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘Last I heard, you were talking about moving in together and now you’ve split up. There’s definitely a story there.’
There was no way Georgia was going to let this one go. Nobody had mentioned Graeme’s absence at Mum’s party – and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or hurt by that – but it was bound to crop up over the Sunday roast and it would be better to have my sister on my side batting away questions rather than leading the charge.
‘I never lied to Graeme,’ I said. ‘Right from the start, I was clear with him that I wasn’t looking for anything serious and he swore he wasn’t either. It seems my definition ofnot seriousand his vastly differed because he asked me to marry him.’
‘He did what?’ she cried, eyes wide. ‘When?’
‘While we were in St Lucia. Just before New Year.’
