‘Hello, Hayden.’
He ignores me, knocking over another pile of blocks.
‘MUMMY!’ Emilie wails, outraged.
‘Hayden, no!’ Becky says firmly, waggling her finger at her son. Hayden picks up one of the blocks and hurls it across the room. Becky sighs as he tears after it. ‘I’m so sorry, Emilie,’ she says to my daughter. ‘He’s a terror.’ We stand back up and she rolls her eyes at me. ‘That’s a nice way of saying he’s a little shit,’ she whispers conspiratorially.
I giggle. ‘The terrible twos have come early?’
She nods. ‘You could say that. I’ve heard the effing threes are even worse?’
I shrug and glance down at my daughter. ‘She’s doing all right.’ Considering…
Becky winces, hearing the unspoken addition to my sentence. ‘How are you doing?’ Her tone is gentle, but then she snaps, ‘No, don’t answer that, it’s a stupid question.’
I smile at her.
Becky and Robin stayed in Edinburgh after university while Theo and I remained in London. We’ve lived so far apart for years, but I love that when we do catch up, we’re able to pick up where we left off. She may look a bit different these days – her thick, dark locks have been expertly thinned into a feathery bob, and, in a role reversal of our teenage selves, she’s now the curvy one while I’m too thin – but she’s still the same funny, loveable, outspoken girl that she used to be.
‘How’s Canada?’ I ask.
Turns out Veronica’s fears were warranted: Becky did indeed fall in love with Robin’s home country while attending his sister’s wedding – I remember her fretting about this scenario when we spoke at Mum and Dad’s party over two years ago. They settled in Canada soon after Hayden was born.
I feel an unwelcome pang at the reminder that our emigration dreams never came to pass.
‘We moved back!’ Becky replies with surprise. ‘Didn’t your mam tell you? We’re converting the old stables.’
‘Wait, you live at the farm?’ I ask with astonishment.
‘Yes! We’re living with Mam and Dad until the conversion work is done. I was going to call you – we’ve only been back for a few weeks. Robin’s away loads and I was so homesick in Canada. I wanted to be closer to my parents. I could do with their help, frankly,’ she adds as an aside.
The news has cheered me up, which is quite a feat today.
‘What about you?’ she asks. ‘You still enjoying city life?’
I hesitate. If I answer truthfully, it will be the first time I’ve spoken the words out loud. ‘I’ve been toying with the idea of moving back here too.’
‘Really? Oh, go on! It’ll be like old times!’
‘Here’s trouble,’ Veronica, Becky’s mum, says with mock dread, coming over to us. She gives me a rough, affectionate kiss on my temple and when she pulls away, I see that my mum is with her.
‘Did you know Leah’s thinking about moving back too?’ Becky tells Veronica with excitement.
Mum baulks at me. ‘Are you? I thought you were glued to London?’
I shift on my feet uneasily, shrugging off Becky’s silent apology. ‘I haven’t made up my mind yet.’
Mum takes the hint and moves on, but I know we’ll revisit this topic later. ‘You heard that Rebecca and Robin are converting the Nortons’ old stables to live in?’ she asks, reminding me that people tend to call my friend Rebecca these days.
She’ll always be Becky to me.
I nod. ‘Becky told me.’
Another thing my mother failed to mention.
* * *
I’m intensely aware of George’s presence throughout the afternoon, but when it’s time to leave, he’s nowhere to be seen. I feel nonsensically dejected, considering the lengths I’ve gone to in order to avoid him.
Emilie is spent, a heavy lump in my arms. Mum and Jamie are still saying their goodbyes, but I was craving fresh air so I’ve come out to the front to wait for them. I lean against the wall of the pub, trying to sustain my daughter’s weight. I feel light-headed as I breathe in the scent of the rose climbing the sandstone beside me. When was the last time I ate? This is becoming a habit, and not a good one.
Across the square, people are queuing up for the chippie and drinking pints on the pavement outside another pub beneath the glow of fairy lights. I envy them and their ordinary Friday.
There are more cars than usual parked in the square tonight, but tomorrow it will be filled with market stalls. Was Dad really here only the weekend before last?
George comes out the front door, lowering his head to fit under the frame.
‘Oh, hey,’ he says as my stomach flip-tumbles. ‘You okay?’
‘Yep. Do you know if Mum and Jamie are on their way out?’ I ask bluntly, shifting the weight of Emilie in my arms.
‘Your mam is inside, waiting for Jamie,’ he replies. ‘I think he’s having a bit of trouble with Dani.’
Dani – Danielle – is Jamie’s girlfriend. They hit it off at my parents’ party and have barely spent a day apart since.
‘Is she wasted?’ I ask.
George nods reluctantly.
Jamie doesn’t drink. Dani drinks too much. It’s the only way in which they seem less than perfect for each other.
‘Do you need a lift anywhere?’ he asks.
I shake my head obstinately and turn to look at the door. ‘We’ll wait for Jamie.’
George shifts awkwardly, but he doesn’t walk away. A few moments of strained silence later, Jamie comes out, supporting his very wobbly girlfriend. He looks harried. Mum is trailing behind them.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ Dani mumbles. She reaches behind her and tries to pat Mum’s shoulder, but misses, her arm falling heavily to her side. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says again, tearfully gazing up at Jamie, looking back at Mum, foggily staring ahead at George, Emilie and me.
Dani has coppery coloured mid-length hair with a thick blunt fringe, and she always looks so cool with her smokily-made-up, piercing blue eyes peeking out from beneath it. But right now, her eyes appear ringed with bruises.
‘It’s all right, it’s all right,’ Mum soothes, rubbing her back as my daughter raises her head from my shoulder to see what the commotion is. She’s in time to witness her uncle’s girlfriend throw up on the pavement.
My immediate instinct is to walk away with Emilie, but I force myself to stay put, turning my child so she’s facing in the other direction.
Jamie scrubs his hand over his face and crouches down beside Dani.
‘I can take her home,’ George offers.
Jamie glances up at him, but his hopeful expression fades. ‘We couldn’t do that to your truck, fella.’ He sounds weary.
‘Perhaps George could give us a lift home?’ Mum suggests, glancing at George who nods his assent. ‘You should be with Dani tonight,’ she tells Jamie.
Jamie hesitates. I know he wants to see Mum and me right, but his loyalties are divided. Dani works weekends at the museum in Pateley Bridge – a job she adores and won’t want to jeopardise. Jamie will help sober her up tonight and make sure she gets there on time in the morning.