Julia caught the hopeful look from Dee who was waiting for her to agree, but instead, she refocused on the screen and sighed as she watched a scowling Molly march towards the front door, arms crossed, foot tapping while she waited for Shane to open up.
Neither spoke, and Julia imagined the vibes of animosity being transmitted from the front step and down the line to her phone. She hated that Molly was angry with her but took some pleasure from knowing that Shane was going to take the brunt of her mood. She watched on in silence as Shane pushed open the door and Molly barged inside, the final sound that of the door slamming shut.
It was impossible not to feel sad when she imagined how Molly was feeling but her head was invested in getting to France and then having a long overdue conversation with Nancy. It would be the first step to freedom. Sharing her plan with her sister and recruiting an ally was top of her agenda.
After placing her phone in her handbag, Julia focused her attention on the departure board so after giving Dee a nudge and collecting their bags, they headed out of the lounge and towards the gate. With each step, as she swerved passengers and tried to keep up with Dee who raced ahead, Julia concentrated on the future, not home and the misery that it represented. Eventhough it sounded selfish in her head, for the next few days she had to focus on her dad and herself and not worry about Molly or what was happening behind her front door.
Shane stood in the silence of the hall, stuffing his keys into the console drawer then hanging his jacket on the hook. When he turned, Molly was standing at the bottom of the central staircase, her scowl still clouding her face, her blue eyes locked on his, one arm resting on the polished steel rail, one foot tapping on the toughened glass step. The sun had moved around the house and was focusing its efforts on the lawn and swimming pool at the rear, leaving the chilly, marbled entrance hall to fend for itself.
The absence of Magda’s Vespa in the drive signalled they were alone, the whole afternoon and evening stretching before them. Molly knew he was waiting for her to speak. When her face broke into a smile, transforming it from cool to warm with a hint of wicked, her words left him in no doubt how she felt.
‘Thank fuck for that! I seriously thought they’d never go and I was dreading Mum changing her mind. For a minute I thought I’d gone a bit overboard with the sulking.’ Molly pushed away from the stair rail and moved towards Shane as she spoke, her expression becoming sultrier with each step so by the time she reached his body and snaked her arms around his neck, lips pouting and full of promise, she knew he was struggling to contain himself.
As she began kissing his neck, pushing her hips into his, she heard Shane’s words catch in his throat, desire swelling his groin while his arms pulled her closer. ‘Me too… and we don’t knowhow long we’ve got before they come back so let’s not waste a second… I’ve been counting them for days…’
Placing a manicured finger on his mouth, Molly silenced him, her tongue slowly tracing his lips and after grabbing his hand, pulled him towards the stairs, turning and flicking her dark wavy hair over her shoulder, seducing him with her eyes as she led him towards her bedroom.
By the time they reached her door they were naked, their passion almost frenzied and once inside the room, completely lost to one another. Those left on the outside forgotten and betrayed.
Chapter Three
MID-AUGUST
The heat was relentless. Not the balmy warmth of early summer, but the dry, uncomfortable kind that clung to your skin and made you hate whatever clothes you chose to wear. The churchyard was quiet, save for the lazy drone of bees in the hedgerow and the annoying bark of a yappy dog.
Molly sat cross-legged on the sun-scorched grass, the blades prickling the backs of her legs where her denim shorts ended. Her sandals were beside her, abandoned, feet bare and dusty from the stone path.
The envelope lay in her lap, cream coloured and crumpled at the corners where her fingers had fidgeted with it all the way from the school hall. Her vest top stuck to her back and her dark brown hair, pulled into a scruffy yet stylish topknot, had begun to escape in frizzed curls that tickled her neck. A bead of sweat slid between her shoulder blades, but she ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on the headstone in front of her, its carved edges softened slightly by time and weather, the words still clear:
RONALD JAMES LASSITER 1974 – 2015
Beloved Husband, Father and Son
Always Cherished, Never Forgotten
Molly reached out and brushed the stone with her fingers, the heat of the sun radiating off it.
‘Hi, Dad,’ she said, her voice wobbling ever so slightly.
The breeze lifted a strand of hair and tickled her cheek. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting the quiet wash over her. Soaking in the moment. Just the two of them.
‘I did it,’ she said, opening her eyes and glancing down at the envelope. Her fingers slid beneath the flap and pulled out the sheet that earlier, she’d had to stare at and reread three, maybe four times until she actually believed the words written on it. She held it up, tilted it so the sun didn’t glare too much, and scanned the results again. ‘All A*s. Every single one.’
A breath of laughter escaped her, half amazed, half disbelieving. She had known she would do well. She had studied like mad, practically lived in the library for the past six months, but even so. It still stunned her, seeing it written there in black and white.
‘You’d be proud, wouldn’t you?’ she whispered, glancing back at the headstone. ‘It was the first thing Mum said when I showed her. She was waiting in the car having kittens – you know what she’s like – and had a good cry. She always says I take after you. That I’ve got your work ethic. I think that’s just her way of affirming our bond, reminding me that even though you’re not here, you’re living on, through me. I like that. And now, seeing my results in black and white, I understand why she pushed me hard and kept me on track because she wants me to do well in life, like you did.’
She shifted her weight, brushing a lazy fly off her thigh.
‘Everyone used to call me your mini-me,’ she said, her voice softer now, threaded with memory. ‘Do you remember when Iused to come into the office with you during the holidays? I’d sit in your big leather chair and pretend I was your secretary. I even used to answer the phone, all official like.ClearGlass, how can I help you?’
She chuckled quietly, then fell silent again, eyes fixed on the headstone.
‘I think those were my favourite days. When it was just us. You’d buy me those massive cookies from the bakery on the way and let me play on your computer when you had meetings. I thought I was so grown up. Mum wanted me to be her little princess forever but you, you made me feel like you were showing me the ropes, as though I was part of the company’s future. I’d have loved that, working with you and Mum.’
A butterfly danced past, its wings pale blue in the sunlight. Molly watched it for a moment, then sighed. Her expression shifted slightly, tension creeping into her shoulders.
‘It’s been ten years, Dad. Ten whole years since you… since you left us. And I still think about you every single day. Sometimes it hits me when I least expect it. A smell, bacon and eggs always, because you used to make it on Sunday mornings and trash the kitchen and Mum would go mad. Or a song, anything by Fleetwood Mac is a killer, and if someone looks a bit like you from behind it makes my heart flip for a second. Other times I feel like you’re still here, just out of sight. Like if I turned around fast enough, you’d be standing there, smiling because I caught you out.’
