Forgive Me Not Read online

  ‘Thanks, sounds great.’ He eyed her curiously. ‘So you don’t ever miss your old habits?’

  She picked up his plate. ‘I used to think people were lying when they said they didn’t. But now? Me get back on that emotional see-saw? No thanks. Never again.’

  She went towards the kitchen, leaving Stig with Dash and the Duchess, who were lying next to each other. It had just gone nine. Bats swooped over the barn. A hedgehog ambled across the yard. In the distance, an owl hooted. She opened the back door to find Andrea holding a pile of brochures.

  ‘What are those?’

  ‘Sheets of dreams I can no longer afford.’ She pushed past. Emma went inside. Bligh sat at the kitchen table in front of an empty mug.

  ‘What’s Andrea doing?’

  ‘Throwing away her travel brochures. She’s collected them over the years to do her drawings from. And she hoped she might need them one day to plan an amazing trip, but now, with the boiler on its last legs, I think she’s finally decided she’s never going to see further than Manchester.’

  Emma’s stomach twisted as she put down the crockery and took the hot chocolate powder out of the cupboard. ‘This is my fault.’

  ‘Whether you were here or not, she’d never have left with Gail being ill.’

  Emma made the drinks while Bligh took a last look at the boiler. When she went outside, Andrea was sitting chatting to Stig. They were flicking through the brochures. Emma put his mug down.

  ‘Do you want one, Andrea?’

  ‘Why not,’ she said.

  Emma gave her the other mug. She couldn’t believe how much brighter Andrea looked gazing at the exotic photos.

  ‘India was great,’ said Stig. ‘I went there during a gap year and volunteered.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to do that,’ said Andrea. ‘Where else have you been?’

  ‘The Peruvian Amazon with university… we monitored insect life and helped look after abused spectacled bears. The colours of the rainforest were magnificent. Vibrant. Clean. Unforgettable.’

  ‘Mum would have loved doing something like that.’ Andrea undid her ponytail. ‘We used to tease her that this farm was more of a centre for waifs and strays, as she was always taking in neglected or abandoned animals.’

  ‘I still can’t get used to seeing her eat meat,’ said Emma. She strained her ears. Was that the front doorbell?

  Andrea picked up a brochure with the Eiffel Tower on the front. ‘I haven’t even been to Europe. In fact I’ve never been out of England.’

  ‘Where has your wanderlust come from? I mean…’ Stig smiled, ‘this is one big pile of brochures.’

  ‘We used to live in London. I was old enough to remember what that was like – and what a contrast it was moving to somewhere like this. It made me wonder what else I was missing around the world. I used to love living in the capital, with its impressive skyline and its parks and the whoosh of the underground. I thought that was all there was. I’d sketch all the well-known buildings – Big Ben, the Houses of Parliament… and then we moved here and I felt inspired by the natural beauty of the Peak District.’

  ‘Do you still draw? I’d love to see your work,’ said Stig.

  ‘No. Not any more.’ Her face hardened.

  ‘I grew up in Blackpool and never thought I’d want to leave,’ said Stig. ‘What with the arcades and the rides, it felt magical as a child. And there was the sea… But then I went on a school trip to Switzerland. It was the second year at high school and I came back determined to choose geography for GCSE. Mum and Dad laughed at my non-stop chat about the food and the mountain scenes. I couldn’t believe the Swiss had four national languages. Suddenly Blackpool seemed so small.’

  Emma couldn’t bear to look at Andrea’s wistful face any more. All these years she’d wanted to travel. Because of Emma, she hadn’t. She went inside and up to Gail’s room, mindful of her mum’s comment about missing her necklaces. The one she’d worn today had kept her hands busy. Perhaps it would offer some comfort if she wore something around her neck more often. She used to have an especially favourite one her daughters had discovered in Afflecks in Manchester. It was silver-painted and bore large charms to do with sewing: a thimble and a large needle, a pin and a silver measuring tape, along with a pin cushion. They were bulky enough not to be broken by her fiddling.

  Because her mum was asleep Emma opened all the drawers as quietly as she could and then looked under the bed and finally in the wardrobe. Perhaps it was in the wooden chest. She lifted it out and carried it downstairs. Her friend Beth had taught her many tricks, one of which was picking locks. She’d check with Andrea first. She headed outside and explained.

  Andrea looked up from the brochures and shrugged. ‘I don’t see why not. I’d forgotten about that old box.’

  At that moment, Bligh appeared, closely followed by…

  ‘Ted?’ Andrea stood up.

  ‘Sorry. I’m sorry for calling so late. But…’ he looked at Emma and Stig, ‘the police have been questioning me all day

  ‘I heard about last night,’ Andrea said. ‘Is everyone all right? I’m so glad you got out.’

  ‘Yes. Thanks to Emma and her friends.’

  ‘Coffee?’ said Bligh.

  ‘I don’t want to disturb you. I’ve just come to say… Well, the police and fire officers wanted to know if there was anyone with a grievance against me.’ He stared at Stig.

  Chapter 17

  No one said anything for a moment.

  ‘Milk?’ asked Bligh.

  ‘Please. And you’d better make that two sugars.’

  ‘Take a seat,’ said Andrea and motioned to the rocking chair.

  ‘Bligh popped into the Badger Inn at lunchtime – you’re staying there?’ asked Andrea, sitting down again. Stig stood up to give Emma his seat, but she insisted on sitting on the ground.

  ‘Polly and Alan have been really decent,’ said Ted. ‘I tried to pay but they wouldn’t hear of it. We’ve got a family room. Neighbours offered to put us up, but there’s more space at the pub. My son’s contract in Scotland finishes at the end of the week. Then we can all move into his. He wanted to drive back straight away, but we’ve reassured him the kids are okay. His place is only ten miles away, so I can commute back to the shop for as long as I have to – but right at the moment, it suits me to be on hand.’ He sighed. ‘Although God knows how long it will take before I’m up and running again. The way business has waned, I did wonder if it’s worth it. But that shop is all I’ve ever known, and I’ll be darned if I let that supermarket win.’

  ‘So what was the cause of the fire? Do you know yet?’ asked Emma. Surely Ted couldn’t believe that the rough sleepers had been responsible.

  Bligh came out and handed Ted a coffee.

  ‘Initially the police suspected it might have been arson. They wanted to know if I could think of anyone who’d want to harm my family.’ Ted shrugged. ‘I’m a businessman. In debt. I’ve had to make unpopular decisions with suppliers and competitors to stay afloat. And… well…’ He cleared his throat. ‘The whole village knows about my plan to move the homeless on. It didn’t take long for the police to hear about that and ask about my opponents.’

  Andrea glanced at Emma and a look of surprise crossed her face. Emma caught her eye. Perhaps she’d been expecting a burst of expletives at the mere idea that Stig could have been involved.

  ‘But they’re the very people who saved your lives,’ said Bligh, red in the face. ‘Emma included.’

  ‘And I just wanted Stig and Emma to know that I told the police in no uncertain terms that the rough sleepers weren’t to blame. I wanted to come and thank you again, Emma – and everyone else. I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight unless I’d done that. I looked for you, Stig. I couldn’t find the woman with the wacky haircut either, but I managed to say a proper thanks to most of the others.’ His voice wavered. ‘If it wasn’t for you…’

  ‘Best not to think about the what ifs,’ said Andrea gently. ‘So
what was the cause?’

  ‘A faulty tumble dryer, they think. I’ve been busy with the insurers all day. I’ll have to start getting quotes for the building work.’

  ‘My dad was a painter and decorator,’ said Stig. ‘If you need a hand with anything, I’m happy to help.’

  Ted put down his drink and stared. ‘After everything I’ve said?’

  ‘Let’s just say I know a thing or two about stress.’

  Ted nodded. ‘It must be hard constantly wondering where your next meal is coming from and trying to keep safe. I’ve never really thought about it before. And it didn’t feel right, last night, the village pulling together to give my family a bed when the heroes would be sleeping on the pavement.’

  ‘No, not so much my life now,’ said Stig. ‘All I meant was… I’ve seen how you and the other shop owners are struggling to make ends meet. When I was a teacher, the pressure was enormous. I couldn’t see a way out. I just wanted to quit and take on a simple nine-to-five job, but I had a mortgage to pay, bills and debts, so there was no way I could leave for a position that paid less. The stress made me behave in ways I wouldn’t normally.’

  ‘Tell me about it,’ said Andrea. ‘Last year I thought the gas company would cut us off. I was always making payments late. It’s the constant worry, isn’t it? Eating away at your perspective. Sometimes it’s as if the world’s a spinning top – I just wanted to get off for a few seconds. I still feel like that now.’ She glanced at the brochures.

  ‘That’s just how I felt, what with growing class sizes, the close monitoring from Ofsted and a sixty-hour week… I just couldn’t take it any more.’

  Andrea picked up a holiday brochure for Japan. ‘I’d have been sorely tempted to take off – with Bligh’s blessing – if it wasn’t for Mum.’

  Ted leant forward. ‘I went to the doctor’s a couple of weeks ago. My blood pressure’s sky high.’

  ‘I had a panic attack in the spring,’ said Andrea quietly, ‘and I get terrible headaches.’

  ‘It’s bad enough for me, and I don’t even have my own business,’ said Bligh. ‘At least my insomnia has improved after I finally paid back some money I owed.’

  Emma sat quietly and stared at the ground. Andrea – and Bligh – had done so well, shouldering all the responsibility of keeping the farm afloat.

  They chatted a while longer about how the local economy could survive. Ted suggested that he still hold the next village meeting but change the agenda from getting rid of the homeless to how the community could pull together to tackle the competition.

  ‘I never realised just how bad things have been,’ Emma said to Andrea. The two sisters were in the kitchen. Emma was packing a bag of chopped ham and chicken for the Duchess before walking back to Phil’s accompanied by Stig and Ted.

  Andrea wiped down the units vigorously. ‘It’s close to the point where Mum’s going to need residential care. Bligh and I just can’t safely look after her any more. Her wandering off and eating those berries proved that.’

  ‘But I can help. Let me stay longer. Me and Mum are getting on great and I’ll be out of your way at Phil’s in the evenings.’

  She stopped wiping but didn’t look up. ‘What’s the point? You’ll be moving on eventually. I give it another week – maybe a month – before you get bored of Healdbury. Especially now you’ve got Aunt Thelma’s money. I’m right, aren’t I?’

  Andrea waited. Emma so wanted to fill the silence with remonstrations – an insistence that she’d stay around for as long as she could. She wanted to shout how much the farm meant to her – the animals, the weeping willow, the flowers. The smells and sounds she’d never appreciated before. Above all, how much it meant to be close to family again, despite the emotional distance.

  But she couldn’t do that. Not now. Not after last night and once again seeing Polly and Alan at close quarters. She couldn’t avoid them forever and she knew that the time was nearing for her to face her past recklessness and talk to the police.

  She felt sick every time she thought about prison, but she couldn’t just change her life on the surface. It had to go deeper, otherwise she’d be living a lie. She had to start putting others first, and for her own sake she had to take responsibility for her actions.

  So she kept quiet and carried on chopping meat. And with even more vigorous arm movements, Andrea went back to her cleaning.

  Before she left for Phil’s, Emma rummaged in the kitchen drawer and managed to find a hairpin. Everyone else was outside talking, apart from Andrea, who’d been to check on Gail. She came downstairs with their mum’s small sherry glass, washed it up and joined the men. Emma sat at the table and jiggled the pin for a few minutes. It wasn’t as easy as she remembered. She was about to give up when with one final tweak the lock sprung open. Gingerly she lifted the lid.

  A lump rose to her throat. Inside were Christmas cards the two sisters had made Gail, and their baby scan photos. There was a tiny pair of gloves with teddy bear ears that Emma had insisted on wearing all one winter – even indoors – and a certificate from school when Andrea had won a chess tournament. She took out these treasures and a triumphant smile crossed her face as underneath she saw the necklace. It lay next to her mum’s collection of thimbles made from different-coloured metals.

  Stig’s head appeared around the back door. ‘You ready to leave?’

  ‘Just coming.’

  She was about to close the lid when a pile of envelopes caught her eye. She lifted them out. They smelt musty. Her brow knotted as she sifted through and counted. Eighteen. All different colours and sizes. The white ones had browned with age. Each was addressed to her mum. She studied the writing. Perhaps they were from an old boyfriend. But as far as she knew, Mum had never met anyone after her dad. At one point Emma had teased that she was getting close to Bligh’s father, but Gail had made it clear that she was steering clear of men in future – and as far as Emma knew, she had.

  With a shrug, she shoved the envelopes into her rucksack. It was getting late. She’d take a proper look later.

  6 months before going back

  As Christmas approached, Emma found it increasingly difficult not to think about Ned. She hadn’t confided in Rachel. The recovery programme was hard enough without taking on board someone else’s problems.

  She wasn’t used to putting other people’s feelings first.

  She lay on her bed next to her friend as they chatted about Christmases past. Thinking about Ned had all become too much last week. She couldn’t control the voice that used to tell her she was a bad person. So she’d asked for a one-to-one with Tess, and Emma had hinted that there was a chance she might have caused someone’s death.

  Tess said she should speak to the relevant authorities – perhaps seeking legal advice first. She didn’t press for details. If Emma told her everything, no doubt she’d be duty-bound to contact the police herself. But she did reassure Emma that this week would help because they were doing Step Nine.

  This step was all about making amends to the people who’d been hurt – for their sake and that of the addict, whose recovery might otherwise be eaten away by guilt and remorse. Everyone had to make three lists: the people they’d say sorry to now; the one-day maybes; and those who – for their own good – would be best left forever because further contact would cause upset.

  The home drinkers’ lists weren’t very long, whereas Emma and Rachel’s… Neither of them was sure where to start. Emma practically ran out of paper, what with Mum, Andrea and Bligh… Polly and Alan… the pub’s customers, other villagers, and old school friends she’d shouted abuse at. Not to mention the complete strangers she’d insulted. Plus there were those she owed money to.

  Rachel adjusted the pillow behind her neck. ‘And then there was the Christmas I threw up over Mum’s new cream dress. She’d saved for weeks to buy it and actually cried. The stains never came out. She didn’t speak to me for a week.’ She bit her lip. ‘Making amends isn’t going to be easy.’

&
nbsp; ‘I’ve decided to start with Andrea,’ said Emma. ‘I’ve written a letter that I’ll post tonight. I feel a bit better already.’

  ‘Why not phone?’

  ‘This way I can set my thoughts out properly. If we have an actual conversation, I might react to things she says in the heat of the moment, and vice versa. I think my initial approach needs to be scripted. It isn’t long – there’s just too much to say sorry for in one go.’

  Rachel groaned. ‘I hear you. I can’t remember the last time Mum and I actually spoke instead of shouting. Although I can see now that was usually because I’d had a drink.’

  ‘Have you thought any more about getting in touch?’

  Rachel rested her head against Emma’s shoulder. ‘Yes. Well, you’ve heard me in class. I can see now that things were difficult for her. She just did the best she could. But she’s not a letter person. Doesn’t even read books. So I’m going to ring her when I’ve completed the whole programme.’

  ‘Do you think Tess is right? That making amends won’t necessarily bring forgiveness, and we have to accept that?’

  She felt Rachel’s head nod. ‘Yup. We’re having weeks of expert help to deal with our feelings, whereas the people we say sorry to might still be full of anger towards us and not know how to deal with that.’

  But Emma hadn’t drunk for almost six months now. Surely she’d find forgiveness when Andrea, Bligh and Mum knew how much she’d changed?

  ‘Your mum won’t recognise you,’ she said. ‘How much weight have you lost?’

  Rachel sat up and smiled. ‘No idea, but it’s a good thing we were allowed out for an afternoon’s shopping today. My old trousers were practically falling off.’

  They’d visited the local charity shops. It felt exciting to care about their appearance again. Rachel had helped Emma choose a new coat. Emma managed not to spend too much time looking at baby clothes that might have suited Josephine.

  Rachel reached for her work booklet while Emma got off the bed and settled at her small desk. Andrea’s letter was waiting there, almost daring her to post it. She opened it up and read through every word. Then again. And once more. Finally she folded it and slid it into an envelope. She sealed it, stuck on a stamp and then kissed the front. Rachel caught her eye and winked.