‘But I’ve got to live, Mum. I feel I’ve been dead for the last two years, hiding behind these walls and turning my face from the world whenever I dared to go outside.’
‘But you’ve been safe, haven’t you?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe’s not good enough.’
Orla took a step back. ‘I’m really trying to make progress here.’
‘You call putting yourself at risk progress?’
‘Don’t say that – please don’t say that! I need to do this, Mum – with or without your blessing. It just feels right to me now.’
Bernadette reached out to her, but Orla took a step back, feeling on the verge of tears.
‘Orla! My baby!’
‘No, Mum. I’m not a baby any more and you’ve got to stop treating me as if I am. I can’t live with you like this. You’re suffocating me! I feel like I can’t take a single breath without you being there to inhale it. You’ve got to give me some space.’
Bernadette looked genuinely perplexed. ‘What rubbish you talk! You need to rest. Let me help you to your room. You’re stressed.’
‘Yes! I am stressed! And you’re causing it.’
‘How can you say that? You were helpless when I arrived. Helpless!’
‘I know! But I’m trying to get better and . . .’ She stopped, wondering how on earth she was going to say it. ‘You’re not helping.’
‘What?’
‘At the moment – with where I feel I am – you’re really not helping.’
They stood staring at each other as if they were in some terrible stand-off.
‘Mum,’ Orla said at last, ‘I really think it’s best if you leave. You do understand, don’t you? I need to take care of myself now.’
‘But you needed me.’
‘I know I did. I really did, and I’m so grateful that you came. But I’m all right now. Or, at least, I’m better than I was.’
‘You don’t want me here?’
Orla swallowed hard. She felt she was being unnecessarily cruel. ‘Not at the moment, no.’
Bernadette took a moment to process this, and then a strange, almost strangled sound emerged from her.
‘So you call me up and then throw me out when it suits you. Is that it? Is that what you think I’m for?’
‘Mum, please—’
‘I dropped everything to come here, you know? I have a life in London and yet I make you the centre of my world.’
‘I know you do, and I’m so grateful.’
Bernadette’s face was flushed with fury now. ‘You don’t know the half of what I’ve done for you. The sacrifices I made so I could be by your side day and night, month after month, in hospital.’
‘Please – don’t!’ Orla felt like she was losing control again but was quite determined not to this time, so she took a deep breath and spoke slowly and deliberately. ‘I appreciate everything you’ve done for me – really – but I need to be on my own now. That’s all.’
There was a tense, silence-filled moment and then Bernadette spoke.
‘Very well then.’
Orla watched as her mother turned to leave the room, not wholly convinced that Bernadette would ever forgive her for making her go before she herself was ready.
‘Mum!’ Orla called after her.
Bernadette stopped by the door and looked back at her daughter.
‘Thank you.’
Chapter 22
Once her mother had left, Orla felt like she needed some air so, grabbing a hat, she found herself walking through the village. She hadn’t exactly planned her route, but her feet instinctively knew where she needed to go and she soon found herself at Oyster Cottage. She stood for a moment, wondering if she had the nerve just to turn up at somebody’s house unannounced. It certainly seemed as if she did, so she knocked on the door, not really expecting anybody to be at home. But, rather surprisingly, Margy answered, a large ball of caramel-coloured wool in her hands.
‘Orla!’ she cried. ‘How lovely to see you. Come in, come in!’
‘Oh, no,’ Orla said. ‘I don’t want to disturb you. I was just wondering if Bill was around. I mean, only if he’s not busy.’ Orla suddenly felt awkward. For two years, she’d ignored her neighbours, and now she was making a nuisance of herself.
‘He’s at the allotment,’ Margy told her. ‘You should be able to catch him there.’
Orla smiled in relief. ‘I should have thought to check there first.’
‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes, fine. I just felt like a bit of company.’ She laughed. ‘I never thought I’d say that.’
‘I’m not surprised you have, though,’ Margy said. ‘And Bill’s the best company there is. Now, just you wait a moment.’
Orla watched as Margy disappeared into the cottage. She came back with a brown paper bag which she handed to Orla.
‘Flapjacks. Warm from the oven,’ she said. ‘Enjoy.’
‘Thank you,’ Orla said, deeply touched.
She made her way back through the village towards the allotments and, with each step, she began to feel slightly lighter in mood. Perhaps it was the blue sky or the warmth of the sun on her back or the delicious scent of the flapjacks she was carrying. Or maybe it was just the fact that her mother had left. As much as she appreciated her being there when she’d needed her, Orla had felt a kind of oppression too, and she’d needed to be free of it. Sighing, she determined to ring her mother later to make sure she’d got home safely and, hopefully, she’d have had time to calm down and would be able to see her daughter’s point of view.
But she wasn’t going to worry about that now because she’d arrived at the allotments and couldn’t help smiling at the view it afforded her of Lorford Castle.
‘My home,’ she whispered. It was still a strange sensation for her to see it from the perspective of the rest of the village. The views she was used to were from inside looking out, but now she realised just how important this building was within the context of the village. She took a moment to admire the way
