Hi, just checking in. Do you know what day it is? It’s the anniversary. Should we do something? Go see Robin and Willow. Let me know later on. We can call this evening if you want. No pressure. G x
She’d forgotten and Babs immediately felt dreadful. Reading the words again, and despite the seriousness of her conversation with Demi, thinking of Robin and Willow and how they would be feeling brought her situation into sharp perspective so without hesitation, she sent a message straight back.
If Robin says it’s okay I’ll come with you. In Rhyl at the moment. Will be back early evening. Let me know what time. Babs x
Shaking off the cold hand of sorrow that had settled on her shoulder, Babs grabbed the warm hand of her daughter and as they stepped over the groynes and headed up the beach, gave thanks for all she had, and for the future Demi had before her. Babs then painted on a smile and put the visit to Robin’s on hold.
The next few hours were for her and her own little girl, making special memories they could keep forever.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
ROBIN
Robin watchedfrom the bedroom window as a trickle of parents and children walked past St Mary’s, heading into the village towards school. It was such a shame, though, that so many others were missing out on their education, a proper one, instead of being taught remotely at home.
It was driving Nate mad because the college where he worked was like a ghost town and he missed teaching real students in the classroom. It was the same for Arty in France and even he was missing ‘the little buggers.’ Maybe soon all the children could go back. Robin hoped so.
She wondered what was going on in the heads of the adults who held the hands of their children. She managed a smile for those who might be glad to have their little darlings back in the classroom. And then her heart constricted, the familiar sense of loss when grief reminded her of all the things they’d miss out on. Like holding hands in the rain, wellies splashing in puddles as they raced to school, trying to beat the bell.
May 12th. Today was a turning point in so many lives as lockdown began to ease yet Robin had already faced up to the stark reality that for her, life would stay the same. She came to this conclusion at 6.08am when she heard the hum of the milk float, and then a whistle as Bobby trudged up the path, the bottles clinking as he deposited them on the step. She’d closed her eyes, not wanting to face the next twenty-four hours, or see the date on the calendar that was pinned to the kitchen wall.
Today was Maya’s anniversary.
Moving away from the window, Robin let her gaze fall on her sleeping daughter, and she felt grateful for her current state of oblivion. She’d brought her a cup of tea, as she did each morning, knowing it would go cold and she’d make another later, but routine gave Robin comfort. It saw her through the day.
Before she left the room, Robin paused by the dresser and rested her palm on the little white box, then moved silently away.
As she closed the door behind her and made her way downstairs to the empty kitchen, she wondered if there would ever be a turning point in Willow’s life. A turning point that would confound all of them so they could laugh in the face of fate, who’d been so cruel, callous in the extreme.
Sometimes Robin couldn’t bear to think of that day and then other times, she found herself going over it, reliving each moment for no other purpose than to see it clearly. Accept that as much as she wished it, there was no going back. Instead, they had to live and cope with the consequences. That and caring for Willow. It was her job as a mother and one of the things you do for love.
In the quiet of the kitchen, only the sound of a ticking clock, out of love and respect to her granddaughter, Robin remembered.
* * *
It happened in the centre of Macclesfield. Robin and Willow had taken Maya into town for a spot of shopping and some lunch. It was a mild day in May. Cloudy overhead with a hint of sun. Maya was four months old, and they took turns pushing the pram, a trendy thing, light and easy to manoeuvre. They’d had such a lovely time and were on their way back to the car park when Robin remembered she needed some bread. After spotting a bakery she left Willow and Maya on the main street and nipped inside.
She heard the sirens approaching as she waited in the queue, there were two people in front of her. The clock on the wall told her it was 2.58pm and as she glanced at the pastries inside the glass cabinet, decided to buy some for Edmund and Nate.
One more person in front, the sirens were getting closer, so she craned her head to look for Willow, but she was out of sight somewhere further along the street window shopping.
By the time the sirens were on top of them, the wailing piercing ears and brains, Robin had reached the front of the queue and was about to be served when it happened. The dreadful screech of tyres, the sound of metal hitting metal, screams and the thud of something ploughing into brick, the shattering of glass and then more screams.
She could still hear them, every time she thought back to that day. At some point as she rushed onto the pavement, terror gripping every part of her body, Robin’s screams merged with those of the onlookers and pedestrians who’d managed to dive out of the path of the speeding car.
The car that had skidded out of control during a police chase, the spaced-out teenage driver careering through the metal fence by the crossing, then into anyone who was standing on the other side. It came to a halt in front of the newsagents.
Robin knew. Knew instantly when she saw the crumpled lump of metal impaled into the smashed shop window, saw the bricks and glass scattered everywhere.
Because what she couldn’t see was Willow’s face in the crowd or hear her voice calling out, telling Robin she was okay. Her legs ran, into the road and around the scene of carnage to the other side. Even though she knew she screamed their names, all she heard was a pounding in her ears so fierce that it drowned everything else out.
Then she saw it, Maya’s upturned pram pushed against the crumbling shop wall, and then a flash, the horrific image of it flying through the air before it came to land.
From that moment, everything happened in slow motion, as Robin dragged her eyes towards Willow’s legs protruding from a coat, a huddle of strangers kneeling by her side, two women sobbing into their hands, the yellow and black of police officers rushing, pushing, shouting to the crowd and into their phones.
The sight that met Robin when she reached her daughter’s side was lost in a black hole. It swallowed her whole and in some ways spared her from the true horrors of that scene.
But Willow hadn’t forgot. And neither could she forgive herself for surviving, for not taking the impact and saving her baby, for standing where she did and not getting out of the way in time.
