‘Lucy was grilling you?’
‘No.’ Paloma holds her head in frustration and pretends to scream. ‘I meant she was asking about you and the café. She’s interested, Twi. Just like everyone else in the village.’
‘You obviously didn’t see the look she gave me when they left,’ I mutter darkly.
‘But she brought you material. And she’s going to make curtains for you. Give her a break, for God’s sake.’
She sees my face and instantly looks contrite. ‘Look, I know she treated you horribly at school and I can never, ever forgive her for that. But things have changed. We’re not school kids any more. I still can’t stand the woman, but she’s not that vicious kid any more.’
‘Yes, but the look she gave me would have turned the milk sour,’ I mutter.
‘Oh, well, if a dirty look is all you have to worry about, you should think yourself lucky!’ retorts Paloma.
‘What?’ I can’t believe she’d say something so insensitive.
‘Oh God, sorry, Twi. Forget I said that. My head’s all over the place today. Of course I know you’re going through hell right now. How is your dad? Have you heard anything today?’
I swallow hard. Mum phoned last night in a panic, worrying about him, and it was all I could do not to leap on the first train to London to be with them.
‘Is he okay?’
I wobble my hand to indicate so-so. ‘It’s all a big stress on his already weakened system. Mum’s going through hell, wishing she could have the treatment instead of him. I wish I could be there.’ I feel hot and anxious suddenly. ‘I shouldn’t be here, painting this stupid chair! I should be with them at the hospital, holding Mum’s hand and being there for Dad. What if it’s all too much for him and something terrible happens and I never see him again?’
A tear brims over and slides down my face as I stare in anguish at my best friend.
Paloma comes over and gently removes the sandpaper from my hand, then leads me over to a chair we haven’t started on yet. Crouching down beside me, she puts her arms around me and lets me sob into her shoulder until her shirt is wet through.
*****
Next afternoon, as we put the finishing touches to the tables and chairs, we’re both still a bit subdued.
There’s something troubling Paloma, I can tell, but there’s no point trying to force it out of her. She can be quite stubborn and she’d only clam up. I know she’ll tell me when she’s ready.
As for myself, I just can’t stop thinking about Dad, hoping and praying the treatment will make a difference. Even just a small difference. Just so I can see a spark of life behind his eyes and have my vibrant, energetic dad back again, telling his awful jokes and whistling tunelessly around the place. It’s funny the things you miss when someone isn’t around …
Later, we retreat to the treehouse where I’ve left cookies and an ice-cold thermos flask of home-made lemonade for our break. We sip the lemonade high up on the verandah overlooking the back garden that’s beginning to give a hint of the riot of summer colour to come.
‘Cookie?’ I hold the box out to Paloma. ‘They’re raspberry and white chocolate. Your favourite.’
No reply. She’s staring out, past Dad’s old country store, at the clear blue sky beyond, a deep furrow between her brows.
‘What is it?’ I ask gently.
‘I don’t know.’ To my dismay, her eyes fill with tears. ‘I just feel … weird.’
I grasp her hand, wanting to help. Paloma hardly ever cries. I never even saw her break down when Linda finally succumbed to the cancer last year. She didn’t let out the tears until long afterwards.
‘Tell me.’
She shrugs. ‘All this stuff you’re going through with your dad. Since you’ve been back, it’s been playing on my mind and I really feel for you because it’s so horrible watching someone you love going through hell. And I suppose Mum dying last year made me realise how important it is to have family.’
She draws a deep breath and lets the air out slowly, still staring into the distance.
Then she turns, an urgent look in her eyes. ‘I want to find her, Twi.’
My heart lurches. ‘Who?’
‘My birth mum.’
Chapter 10
‘Wow.’ My mouth opens in total surprise. I never thought I’d see this day.
As long as I’ve known her, Paloma has always been absolutely adamant she already had a wonderful mum and wasn’t at all curious about the woman who gave her up at two weeks old. It was just biology, she insisted, not the loving and nurturing of a true parent.
I take her hand and squeeze it gently, realising now that she probably only said those things because she didn’t want to hurt Linda.
But now that Linda is gone …
She grins at me. ‘I know. Bit of a bombshell, eh?’
‘It certainly is. But if you’re serious, I’ll help you any way I can.’
She leans sideways and nudges my shoulder. ‘Thanks. I could do with my bestie’s support in this. Because I’m scared. And when I say scared, I mean terrified!’
‘Yeah?’
She nods and I can see genuine fear in her eyes.
‘You’ve got nothing to lose, though,’ I tell her gently.
‘But I have! Don’t you see?’ She looks up at the sky in despair. ‘Even though I’ve never looked for the woman who gave birth to me, I’ve imagined what she’d be like. What if I find her and she’s nothing like my image of her?’ She grabs my hand. ‘Oh, Twi, what if I never find her? Or what if I do find her but she doesn’t want to know me? At least if I don’t look for her, I can cling on to the fantasy …’ She shrugs hopelessly and collapses back against the wall of the treehouse, staring up at the sky.
There’s a long silence.
Then I say carefully, ‘The thing is, a fantasy mother isn’t much use. You need a real one.’
She says nothing but
