1
‘Lila! Lila Edwards, are you in there?’
Lila jumped as someone hammered on her front door. But it wasn’t just someone, she knew full well who it was.
Roxie Walker: her best friend and fellow resident of Sunflower Street.
Lila dropped to her hands and knees on the floor behind the sofa, even though the curtains in her front room were closed and she knew there was no way Roxie could see through the heavy material.
‘Lila! If you don’t open this door in the next thirty seconds I’m calling the emergency services.’
Lila took a deep breath. It wasn’t the first time Roxie had made that threat in the last few months, but it still caused a shiver to run down her spine. The thought of burly firefighters or police officers breaking down her front door and the fallout that would follow chilled her to the bone. All Lila wanted was peace and quiet, to fade into the background and be left alone to sleep, sing, cry and wallow in her memories. She certainly didn’t want to be the centre of village gossip (yet again) and having a big red fire engine outside her cottage would set tongues wagging. This would be followed by donations of casseroles and cakes she’d never eat, and then there would be the exhausting task of trying to return the correct dishes and cake tins to the rightful owners while smiling and thanking them for the delicious offerings.
Just like last time …
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, grabbed the arm of the sofa, hauled herself up to her feet then pushed her shoulders back. The big toe of her right foot popped through the hole in her fluffy red sock as if in protest, so she quickly removed the socks and flung them behind the sofa.
She could do this. She could open the door to her friend and smile, pretend that everything was just fine. Of course she could.
Lila shuffled out of the lounge and through the hallway, turned the key then opened the door, flinching as the light hurt her eyes. She tried to move her lips into a smile, but it felt far more like a grimace, and her top lip wavered. As she felt the full power of Roxie’s gaze upon her, Lila’s armpits tingled unpleasantly and beads of sweat popped out above her upper lip.
‘Oh Lila…’ Roxie shook her head, causing her jet-black hair to swish over her shoulders. Her bright green eyes, heavily lined with kohl, the lashes thick with mascara, were filled with concern. ‘My poor, poor darling! How long have you been wearing it this time?’
As Roxie bustled into the hallway, bringing with her the vibrant aroma of tuberose and jasmine, Lila looked down at herself and stiffened. Roxie was right; Lila was wearing it again. But for how long? She really wasn’t sure. She didn’t even know what day it was.
She closed the door, shutting the world out, then turned to Roxie, but her friend was already speaking to someone on her mobile phone while opening the curtains. Lila watched as dust motes spun through the air, reminding her of tiny diamonds, making her wince as she recalled what she’d done with her engagement ring.
‘Yes. That’s right, Jo. Bride of bloody Dracula to be more precise. Looks like red wine but it could be sweet and sour sauce.’ Roxie caught Lila watching her and mouthed Sorry! then returned to her phone call. ‘Quick as you can, really, honey. And bring wine. Lots and lots of wine.’
Ethan Morris flopped onto the single bed in his childhood bedroom. The room was like a time capsule and he could easily have been a teenager again, gazing at the posters on his walls of movies like Fight Club, The Matrix and American Pie and bands including the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Counting Crows.
He closed his eyes as exhaustion crept through him. He felt as if he could sleep for a month. In fact, that might not be a bad idea. He’d slept a lot in this bed over the years, especially when he was in his late teens. Back then, sleeping had seemed far more important than getting up early for school or college, although with his mother around, he’d often had his lie-ins disturbed as she had a tendency to vacuum the house every day before noon.
His poor mum. He’d come home to support her in her hour of need, or so he had told himself, but now that he was here, he was starting to realise that there was more to it. He wanted to be here too.
His mum hadn’t been right for a while, but she’d kept it from him, only confessing that she had been feeling ‘quite tired’ and ‘a bit run down’ more recently. However, he’d managed to get her to admit that she’d felt this way for a few months and that she was starting to worry that there could be something more serious going on. His mother wasn’t a hypochondriac, and rarely spoke about health complaints, so he knew there must be something wrong for her to admit to it. That filled Ethan with fear because she was all he had left, and the thought that she too was mortal was awful to contemplate.
Freda Morris was only sixty-three and had always been healthy and strong. She’d taken up running in her forties and Ethan had joined her, marvelling at how fit she was and at how she often outran him. In recent years, she had slowed down a bit and then a knee injury had stopped her running, but she still did yoga and Pilates at the village hall every week. She was slim, almost wiry, her grey hair was styled in a pixie cut that made her wise brown eyes seem huge and she easily looked a decade younger than she was. Freda was his mum: invincible and wonderful, and Ethan couldn’t imagine the world without her.
But he knew all too well that people weren’t immortal. That loved ones died. And that all the love in the world couldn’t save someone if it was his or her time to go. The familiar pain stabbed his heart and he wrapped his arms around his chest and breathed slow and deep, focusing on his breath, waiting for the pain to ease.
Lila perched on a kitchen stool as her friends Roxie and Joanne fussed around her. She felt dazed, as if she’d woken from a nap in the sun, which was pretty much the way she’d felt on and off for months. Nothing had felt real for quite some time and she had the sensation of sleepwalking, that she never fully woke up properly each morning.
‘Have you been eating, Lila?’ Joanne rubbed Lila’s arm. ‘You’re looking so pale and thin.’
‘I eat.’ Lila frowned, trying to remember what she last ate, then remembered it was half a bagel. But was that this morning or yesterday morning? Or even the day before?
‘I don’t think you do. That dress is hanging off you.’ Roxie shook her head as she stirred something in a pan on the stove. Steam was rising into the air and Lila’s mouth watered at the delicious aromas that drifted her way. ‘This chicken noodle soup will be good for you, nice and nourishing.’
‘You need a big bag of chips, Lila, and a cream cake.’ Joanne pulled Lila into a hug and Lila’s eyes burned with emotion as her friend squeezed her tight. Joanne was good at giving hugs, her soft curves and sweet floral scent always made Lila feel safe and cared about. But right now, Lila felt angular and awkward in Joanne’s embrace.
‘Noodle soup first.’ Roxie carried the pan to the kitchen island and poured it into a bowl then gestured at the table. ‘Let’s get this into her before we do anything else. You can’t think straight on an empty stomach, let alone give us your full Miss Havisham impression.’
‘What?’ Lila coughed as Joanne guided her to the table and pulled out a chair.