‘But you’ve had such a full life,’ Pepper argued. ‘Four children, a long marriage to a man you loved, career success.’
‘You’re quite right, my dear girl.’ Josephine extracted a proper handkerchief from her handbag and dabbed at her cheeks. ‘I had everything I wanted – and now I have this. And I have you. What a joy you are.’
Pepper was about to reply with a rebuttal, but then she remembered Finn’s light-hearted telling-off from the previous day and stopped herself. She hated it when people attempted to push aside the compliments she gave them, so why did she persist in doing the same thing to others? She must try to stop.
‘Thank you,’ she managed, pressing her shoulder against Josephine’s. ‘And thank you for bringing me here, for broadening my very limited horizons.’
‘Nonsense!’ Josephine tutted. ‘Darling, you have an artist’s soul, just like dear Jorge. When you see the world in the way that you do, there are no walls or bars at the windows. I would wager that you could be in the smallest, darkest place in the world, and still find beauty in the shadows.’
Pepper’s voice cracked as she started to reply, and she was forced to clear her throat.
‘Perhaps once,’ she said. ‘But not for a very long time now. The truth is, since Bethan died, I sometimes feel as if my whole life exists inside a small, dark room.’
‘Grief can feel like that,’ Josephine said softly. ‘The key is not to allow it to box you in. Think of the person you lost, and what they would want for you.’
Pepper thought of Bethan’s zest for adventure, of her little sister’s hopes and dreams, dashed before she had a chance to realise any of them.
‘What about what they would want for themselves?’ she said. ‘That counts, too.’
‘Of course it does, darling. But one of those things would surely be a desire to see those you love happy. Not long before I lost Ian, he made me promise that I would not retreat into the space he left behind, but that I would keep living for the both of us – keep striving to do all the things he would have done if he had the chance. I think about that every day.’
‘That makes sense.’ Pepper was nodding, but her insides twisted with sadness. All at once, the colours beyond the window seemed to lose their vibrancy, and the serenity that had settled over her was replaced by a churning wave of sorrow.
Pepper had always struggled with feelings of guilt surrounding Bethan’s death. She didn’t blame herself for what happened – it was an accident – but she did feel a strange kind of shame at having been the one who survived. And she suspected that she was not the only one.
As if on cue, Pepper heard a buzzing sound coming from her bag, and for a fleeting second, her heart leapt in hope that it was Finn, calling to bring the sunshine back into her day.
But it wasn’t. It was her mother.
Chapter 14
‘Philippa.’
Her mother had not called her Pepper since Bethan died.
‘Your father is getting married,’ she announced wearily. ‘To his secretary.’
‘Hang on a sec, Mum.’ Pepper clamped her phone against her ear with her shoulder as she helped Josephine down the steps of the tram. They were in the Chiado area of the city now, not far from the next location on Josephine’s list. She shouldn’t really have answered, given the fact that she was supposed to be giving her full attention to her friend, but when she saw her mother’s name on the screen, Pepper had remembered the missed call from the previous day and been walloped by a thump of guilt.
She could hear her mother sighing with obvious displeasure at the other end of the line and could appreciate why. This would be her father Martin’s second attempt at another marriage since he had left her mum. Since he left both of them.
‘Sorry,’ she mouthed to Josephine, who waved away her apology and motioned towards a nearby bookshop. Pepper watched her go in through the open door, then let out a breath she had not realised she’d been holding. Looking around for a place to sit down, she settled on a low wall that had been decorated in yet more patterned tiles. She would be willing to bet that if you reached out a hand anywhere in the city, the first thing you would touch would be art in some form or another.
‘So, I guess that means there’s going to be another wedding?’ she asked, staring down at her sandalled feet. Pepper had painted her nails that morning, choosing a rich ruby red to match the scarf tied up in her blonde hair. For the first time in ages, she had thought carefully about every element of her outfit, even treating herself to a white sundress from a shop not far from the hotel. It was the first item of clothing she had bought new in years.
‘He wants us there again, of course,’ her mother said. ‘Something about a show of unity, merging his old family with his new one.’
‘Are we allowed a plus-one?’ Pepper asked, even though she was not sure who she would invite if this was the case.
‘I have no idea.’ Her mother’s voice lurched a notch closer to shrill. ‘They’re doing it over in Guernsey, would you believe? Like we’re all made of money and can afford flights and hotels.’
Pepper closed her eyes and took a slow breath in. Her mother always became more agitated when she was talking about Martin, and although she had assured Pepper many times that she harboured no hard feelings towards him, it was painfully apparent that the opposite was in fact true.
‘I went ahead and booked us a room,’ her mother went on. ‘I thought I should, before the hotel filled up. She’s very young, his new––’ Her mother could not bring herself to say the words ‘wife-to-be’. Instead she mumbled something unintelligible, before adding, ‘She’s bound to have a lot of friends coming. Your father’s probably only inviting us to swell his numbers, make him look more popular.’
Ouch, thought Pepper, but she made no comment.
‘I hope he doesn’t expect a gift,’ her mother rattled on. ‘They will probably have a list at John Lewis. Well, they’re not getting so much as a card from me.’
‘I can pay for our flights,’ Pepper replied, thinking as she did so how strange it was that she would be taking another trip in the near future. The Channel Islands were not exactly exotic, but it still meant a plane journey.
‘When is it?’ she added, interrupting her mother’s protestations about travel costs.
‘Towards the end of the summer, I think,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember the exact date, or perhaps Martin didn’t think to mention it. That would be just like him. He always has been forgetful.’ Her tone had softened now, as if her ex-husband’s absentmindedness was something she remembered fondly. It was a sentiment that rankled.
‘Your dad has gone because he is too sad to stay,’ her mother had told Pepper, who was fourteen when her father moved out. ‘We make him too sad.’
Pepper had tried to make sense of those words at the time, had chased them around in her mind almost constantly, but they had never become any clearer. Because how could it feel right, after losing one daughter, to leave the one you had left? How would that make the sadness go away? Surely, she had reasoned, choosing to go would only make him sadder still? Years later, disinhibited by alcohol, Pepper had asked her father to tell her his reasons why.