The plan is for Rosie to work full-time with Maggie and for Seb to homeschool the kids for the first six months, by which time they hope to have a better idea of where they want to be longer term. Eva is going to rent their house with some of the insurance money while her own is being rebuilt. She’s booked a flight to Sydney too and will be staying out there with them for the whole of February.
‘You know the weird thing,’ Rosie says, looking at Abi again. ‘I feel like thanking you for fucking up our lives.’
Abi breathes out and rolls her eyes before her face softens again and she says, with a smile, ‘Same here.’
Rosie, ignoring the sounds of other people around them, tunes back instead into the rolling sighs from the sea again for a moment before picking up her bag. She stands and says, ‘Come on, then. I’d better get this over with.’
And it feels good to move towards the sea across the shingle, not touching each other, but still, the two of them, walking side by side again.
Epilogue
January
Abi is going into the kitchen to check on the roast chicken when she hears a car pull up outside the flat. She stays away from the window because she doesn’t have to see her to know it’ll be Anna. Blake will already be reaching to open his door even though the car hasn’t come to a complete stop yet; he likes to come to Brighton at the start of Anna’s week, when she stays in their old family home with the kids. Lily only goes to their place when it’s Eddy’s week at home. Abi suspects Blake would rather get the train from Waverly to Brighton but maybe letting Anna drive him is part of their agreement. He can go, but only if he lets Anna drive him – twenty minutes just the two of them. She pictures those journeys, Blake staring blankly out of his window as the dual carriageway rushes by, answering Anna’s pre-prepared questions with monosyllables.
Abi feels a wave of sympathy for Anna as she listens to Blake’s car door slam shut. Imagines the shock as Anna’s shoved back into silence, alone again. Her car engine is running but still Anna lingers for a moment so she can watch from the other side of the road as the front door to their flat flies open, Lily standing there, beaming, before Blake has a chance to ring the bell. Anna must see the way their children’s eyes are both brimful of light as they kiss and hug and check in with each other.
And in that moment before the other mother drives away, Abi feels the chasm open again between them, because how can Anna not be moved by this, not want to protect and delight in this beautiful thing that is happening to these beautiful young people?
As Abi moves fully into the kitchen towards the oven just under the window, Anna drives quietly away.
The flat is exactly how she likes it today. Full and noisy. Diego and Stephen are in the little sitting room teaching Margot a new card game; she hears Margot call out in her high voice as Blake and Lily join them, ‘Yay! Blakey can be on my team!’
The chicken is ready, the skin turning a delicious light brown. Even Diego won’t be able to find fault. She leaves it to rest on the side as she takes the miniature roast potatoes, fragrant with rosemary, bubbling with olive oil, out of the oven and drops a curl of butter on to the veg.
Then next door, above the voices, Abi’s phone starts ringing and she hears Lily say, ‘Hello, this is Abi’s phone.’
Lily makes her way across the tiny hall to the kitchen, tucking her red hair behind her ear, a concentrated, inscrutable look on her face as she silently hands Abi her phone.
‘Who is it?’ Abi mouths but Lily just stares at her, her frown deepening, her mouth slightly open before she turns away, back towards the laughter and warmth.
Abi lifts the phone to her ear.
She recognizes her breathing immediately before she even says, ‘Abigail?’
Abi feels something disintegrate within her at the sound of her mum’s voice, but she also remembers Anna sitting in that car on her own. She reminds herself that forgiveness must work in all directions. She walks slowly out of the kitchen, out of the front door and into the needle-sharp air to listen to her mum and so she, too, Abi – at long last – can be heard.
Acknowledgements
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, signing the contract with my agent, Nelle Andrews, was without a doubt in the top three good decisions of my life. Her dedication, tenacity and mama bear instinct for her authors is second to none.
Another top-drawer decision was saying ‘I do’ to James Linard, the best person I know. Living up to the ‘tricky second album’ stereotype, this book has been hard to write at times. There have been many (entirely necessary) revisions which have led to many morning-chorus panics, cancelled holidays and James emptying the dishwasher for the 4,503rd time in a row. While I’ve wept and wailed, James has been steadfast and clear-sighted. Thank you so much, always, my love.
Our boys, Otis and Quinn, have written their own books alongside this one and have helped by getting me out of my own head – mostly by wrestling or leaping on me from a great height or handing me a worm to rescue. Thank you, sweethearts, for always reminding me of what really matters. I love you guys so much.
I would never have believed it possible to actually write for a living were it not for the constant unwavering love and belief of my parents, Sandy and Edward Elgar, both of whom inspired a love of literature in me and my sisters.
Thank you to my excellent bros-in-law, nieces, nephews and God-kids. You are the best.
Thank you to my wonderful friends both old and new. If my characters had friends half as good as you, they’d never end up in such terrible states.
Halfway through writing this book the brilliant Frankie Gray left Transworld for pastures new. Thank you, Frankie, for steering the early ideas and for gently making me understand why the first full draft had to be totally rewritten.
I was nervous working with someone new halfway through a novel, but I’ll never forget Thorne Ryan, my new editor, saying, ‘Don’t worry, we’re going to get on.’ She was bloody right. Thorne’s instinct for a great story and her incredible brain power blows me away. I feel very, very lucky to work with someone I admire so much.
The first time I met Ola Olatunji-Bello she made such considered, brilliant editorial suggestions, I knew immediately she was another complete natural. Thank you both for your incredible patience and care.
I’d also like to heartily thank the excellent Anna Carvanova and Anna Nightingale, both of whom I have no doubt have amazing careers in books ahead of them.
Thank you to Eloise Austin for being at the marketing helm. Huge thanks to publicist Becky Short – surely one of the most engaging and fun people in publishing.
Barbara Thompson has been incredible on copy-editorial, spotting things that totally passed me and others by – thank you. Thanks also to Viv Thompson, Holly Reed, copy-editor Eleanor Updegraff and proofreader Rachel Cross.
In the sales team I’d like to thank Deirdre O’Connell, Phoebe Llanwarne and Rhian Steer.
In international sales, the appropriately named Cara Conquest – thank you.
In production, hearty thanks to Phil Evans. I’m indebted also to the brilliant Beci Kelly for the amazing, dizzying cover design.
I’d also like to thank my old boss and friend Del Campbell, who offered me a job even though I’m sure I seemed entirely unsuited to the role. Your early belief in me in my former role and now as a writer has meant more than you probably know.