Fiona was too busy fixing her hair to comment, but Olive could see by her pursed lips that she knew Olive had given the best performance.
‘Right, lassies, well done. Like they should have told you outside, I’ll be phoning the person I’ve selected for the part on Monday morning.’
The three of them murmured their thanks, then calmly made their way outside, until the fresh air of the street hit them, and they dissolved into shrieks of laughter. ‘Well, that Goldie Hawn will be shitting herself now that she’s got competition,’ Nancy announced as soon as she could speak, setting them all off again. ‘Let’s go for a drink, girls. I fancy a wee Malibu and pineapple before I get too famous and only drink champagne.’
Odette’s car juddered over a speed bump, making the memory fast-forward to the Monday morning, when her younger self had nipped back to the dinner hall staffroom for a plaster after shredding her finger on a cheese grater. She was right next to the phone on the wall when it rang, so she’d snatched it up immediately.
‘Hello…’
‘Aye, erm, yes, hello. This is Alf Cotter. Can I speak to…’
‘Odette!’ Calvin barked at her, making her head turn sharply. ‘Jesus, I thought you’d gone into some weird hypnotic trance there. You were miles away. Anyway, we’re here. Yellow Cottage. That’s it there. Shall I be Davina and come with you?’
‘No,’ she mumbled, staring at the house. It was a picture-perfect little bungalow that had flower boxes under the windows, a cherry tree in the front garden and she could see a light on inone of the front rooms. So this was Nancy’s home. And now she had two choices. Go knock on the door. Or stay in the car and tell Harry to turn around and forget this crazy, half-baked notion to apologise for something that had happened four decades ago.
Odette Devine remembered what happened next on that phone call and felt a wave of self-loathing. This was the time to make it right. With a shaking hand, she reached over and opened the car door.
22
TRESS
Tress was wondering where the majority of the spaghetti bolognaise had gone – into Buddy’s mouth or down the front of her T-shirt.
‘Little guy, you have your daddy’s appetite and your mamma’s aim,’ she told him, loving the cheesy grin that was the standard response to everything she said, unless he was cold, warm, tired or hungry. Even then, he didn’t fuss much. For a baby who had been born in such stressful, horrendous circumstances, coming into this world in the same hospital in which his dad would succumb to his fatal injuries just a few hours later, he had the most lovely, laid-back, sunny nature. Tress put that down to his inherent personality, and to the joyful world they’d created for him, even though he was only one and all he cared about was cuddles and giggling as she sang him songs. Tonight, they’d got through at least ten choruses of ‘The Wheels On The Bus’ while she’d fed him his favourite pasta, then a dozen more renditions of ‘Old McDonald Had A Farm’ over his other favourite, the high-brow delicacy that was apple puree pudding.
Even in her darkest days, the need to care for this little person had forced her to get up, to shower and to function through the day. Those were the days that she missed her mum most. Julie had passed away when Tress was just a teenager, and there wasn’t a day that Tress didn’t think about her. Maybe that’s why one of the things she’d relentlessly pondered over many sleepless nights after Buddy was born was the question of how to broach the subject of his father with him. What should she tell him? And when?
In the end, after speaking to Val and Nancy, to Noah, and to a child psychologist on Noah’s ward, she’d decided that she’d talk to Buddy about Max right from the start, so that he’d know who his dad was and how much he was loved. When he was old enough to understand, she would tell him the story of how his father had passed away, but she would never reveal who Max was with or why. Buddy didn’t need to know that. She’d much rather he always regarded his dad as a decent, loving man, taken far too soon.
Talking of decent men… she picked up her mobile and called Noah, but it went straight to voicemail.
‘Hey, Noah, it’s me. Just checking in with you to see how your day is going and how your chat with Anya went. Maybe you’re still having it.’ That thought gave her goosebumps of fear. ‘Anyway, everything is fine here. Don’t worry about calling me back, because I know you’re going to your mum’s for dinner. Oh, and that advice you gave me earlier? I took it. I’m going out with Rex tonight. Only mildly terrified. Actually, that’s a lie. Definitely majorly terrified. I’ll buzz you later, but if you need me, just call. Love you.’
She hung up, deflated. She’d wanted to tell him about her own encounter with Anya, to find out how his conversation went with her, and to check in with him, to hear his voice and know that he was okay.
Another ripple of anxiety pulled at her gut. What if he took Anya back? There. That was it. The question that she’d been trying to avoid all day. What. If. He. Took. Her. Back? She tried to shrug off the notion. To reunite with Anya, he’d have to end his relationship with Cheska and Tress didn’t see him doing that. Although, it did surprise her that Noah and Cheska were still keeping things so casual. Not that it was any of her business, so she kept out of it. All she knew was that Cheska was great, Noah was a catch, and she hoped they’d work it out, almost as much as she hoped that he would say goodbye to Anya for the second time and that she would stay away.
Assuming, that was, that Nancy was being honest when she said that Anya was no longer on Noah’s porch when she got there. However, she’d returned twenty minutes later, minus Val, whom she said had gone home to relieve the carer who came in to look after her husband, Don, one day a week, so Tress had no corroborating evidence the ladies didn’t encounter Noah’s ex-wife. Anya could, right now, be tied up in the boot of Nancy’s car, praying for a SWAT team.
‘What’s that smile on your face for?’ Nancy asked, as she came back into the kitchen after running a hoover round the rest of the house. Tress had tried to stop her, but it was hopeless – Nancy would tell anyone who would listen that hoovering was her favourite way of getting her daily steps in.
Tress would never stop being grateful for this saint of a woman who was now waiting for an answer.
‘I was thinking there’s a good chance Anya is in your boot.’
Nancy put her hands up. ‘You’ll never find her. I’ve watched every episode ever made ofSilent Witnessat least twice. I know how to hide the evidence.’
Tress played along. ‘Excellent, because Buddy doesn’t need to be visiting his aunties in jail.’ After scooping Buddy out of his highchair, she perched him on her hip, and grabbed the bottleshe’d made up for him earlier. ‘Come on, little man, let’s go soak the spaghetti off.’ She kissed the tip of his spaghetti-blotched nose, before adding to Nancy, ‘I’m just going to give him his bath, and then I’ll put him down. Wee soul is rubbing his eyes already. You and Val definitely tired him out today. Are you sure you don’t mind staying with him tonight? I can easily cancel.’
Nancy was already washing down Buddy’s highchair. The woman was a cleaning machine. ‘Oh no, don’t you dare try to squirm out of this one, Tress Walker. You’re going out on this date whether you like it or not and don’t be trying to use me to get out of it.’
Tress was equal parts amused and anxious. ‘I’ve almost texted him at least a dozen times. Is this what it feels like, Nancy? Getting back out there?’
Nancy stopped cleaning to think through her answer. ‘I don’t know, love, I really don’t. After my Peter died… well, I didn’t think I’d ever want to be with anyone again. And then Johnny came along…’ Johnny had been a friend of Nancy’s husband, Peter, when they were teenagers, and she’d met him again at a Weirbridge High School reunion the year before. ‘And something just felt so completely right. I don’t understand it and I can’t explain it. I think there’s just something that happens when your heart is in charge.’ Tress got lost for a moment, letting the profound wisdom and loveliness of Nancy’s words sink in, until she added, ‘Or it might have been vodka that was in charge. The fruit punch at that school reunion nearly blasted ma heels off.’
‘Greeting card companies should know about you,’ Tress laughed, shaking her head and thinking about the sweet part of Nancy’s words as she went off to track down Buddy’s pyjamas. Did her heart tell her that Rex felt right? No idea. But it did tell her that one date wasn’t going to kill her, so she was as wellgiving it a try, since Nancy was determined to stay here and binge-watch a few more repeats ofSilent Witness.
An hour later, Buddy was bathed, jammies on, in his cot and she’d read him five pages ofHouse Beautifulmagazine. It was the closest she came to multitasking, because she’d realised that she could read anything at all to him and he had no idea what she was saying. She just made sure she voiced the new trends for window dressings and wallpaper in a soft, sing-song voice and he went to sleep happy, while she was left with gorgeous new ideas for bedroom curtains.
