I find the back door open, as usual, and the kitchen empty. They’re in the living room, Dad asleep in an armchair and Mum stuck deep into a book. As soon as she spots me, she gives a jerk, dropping the book to the floor.
‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ she cries out, clapping a hand to her chest. ‘Are you trying to kill me?’
Dad’s roused. An eye slides open.
‘Maya, what are you doing here?’
‘Just visiting.’
‘Oh, Lord,’ Mum gasps. ‘I wish you’d give us some warning.’
‘Why don’t you lock your back door?’ I ask. ‘Then you won’t have people turning up out of the blue in your living room.’
Rolling her eyes, she pats the space next to her.
‘Roger,’ she snaps. ‘More tea. Now! And fetch the biscuits.’
‘I can’t stay long,’ I apologise, sinking onto the sofa next to Mum.
‘You never can these days. What’s brought you up here?’ She checks over my shoulder. ‘And where’s Daniel?’
Without any further ado, I launch into my fabricated tale of woe, eager to get it over and done with. By the time Dad returns with the tea tray, I’ve come to an end and judging by the expression on his face, he’s clearly been listening in from the kitchen. He places the tray on the coffee table, points back to the door, mumbles the word ‘biscuits’ and disappears again.
‘So, that’s it then,’ I summarise, watching him go. ‘Me and Lucy are free agents.’
‘Both of you?’ Mum asks, picking up her cup and saucer.
‘Yes.’
‘They’ve both dumped both of you?’
I gaze out of the French windows. It’s begun to rain. I really should have brought an umbrella.
‘Yes.’
She leans forward, grimacing, as if she’s just drunk ditch water.
‘But why?’
‘It’s personal, Mum.’
‘It’s because of this place,’ she decides quickly. ‘That’s it. It’s because you’re from here, and he can’t stand the memories.’
I shake my head. ‘It’s nothing to do with that.’
‘So, what is it?’ Her lips are wobbling now. ‘I thought you’d found the one. I thought you were going to get married. I thought … Oh, I don’t know what I thought.’
She waves the teacup in front of her face, and begins to cry. Oh great. That’s all I need. I thought she’d opt for righteous indignation. I never expected tears.
‘Mum, it didn’t work out, that’s all. You know what it’s like.’
‘No.’ She shakes her head. ‘I don’t know. Roger … Roger was the only one. How can it not work out?’
‘It just didn’t.’
‘And I thought he was such a lovely boy. I can’t believe it.’ Putting down her cup and saucer, she wipes her eyes. Her face clouds. She’s obviously moving on to anger. ‘If I could get my hands on him, I’d …’ She bites her lip. ‘I’d rip his bloody testicles off. He’s an idiot. He’s lost the best thing he’s ever found.’ She waves a finger. ‘I know he’s poorly and he’s in hospital, and you shouldn’t speak ill of the …’
‘He’s not dead,’ I interrupt.
‘I know that, but he’s not worth it, Maya. That’s what you’ve got to remember. It’s not you. It’s him.’
I cross my arms and stare at the tea tray, biting back a little anger of my own. It’s not him at all. And he is worth it. And one day I’ll be able to explain. Suddenly, I’m gripped by a need to defend the man I love. It’s a good thing Dad appears in the doorway, clutching a biscuit tin.
‘Roger, Dan’s finished with Maya.’
‘And Clive’s finished with Lucy,’ I add.
‘Has he? Oh.’ And that’s it from Dad. Lowering himself back into his armchair, he opens the tin. ‘Ginger nuts, malted milks, bourbons and custard creams. No digestives.’
‘Your daughter’s life’s falling apart and all you can think about is biscuits?’
‘Well, you’ve got to go on eating.’
He offers the tin to me. I wave it away.
‘Explain,’ Mum orders. ‘Explain why he’s dumped her.’
Dad’s eyebrows wiggle. ‘How can I explain?’
‘Well, you’re a man, aren’t you? You should know what goes on in men’s brains.’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’ He helps himself to a custard cream. ‘You trained it all out of me.’
He’s about to get a good verbal mauling from Mum when the phone rings.
‘That’ll be for you, Audrey,’ he says. ‘The daily call. Pam from the reading circle.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Rising to her feet, Mum stomps into the hallway, answers the phone and launches into a muffled rant.
‘Are you alright?’ Dad asks, biting into his biscuit.
‘I’m fine.’
‘If there’s anything I can help you with …’
‘I don’t need any help, Dad.’
He doesn’t seem convinced.
‘You’re still my little girl. If you need anything …’
‘Honestly, I’m alright.’
He pops the rest of the biscuit into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.
‘It’s a shame,’ he says at last. ‘I liked him, I really did. I suppose it just wasn’t to be.’ He rummages through the tin and pulls out a bourbon. ‘You’ll find someone else. Don’t worry. But you deserve the best, Maya. Remember that. Someone who can give you everything you need.’
‘I don’t need much.’
‘Love, respect and friendship. Everyone needs that.’
‘Have you heard from Sara?’ I ask, eager to change the subject.
‘She’s losing her house, moving in with us for a while.’
My mouth falls open. I knew it was difficult for Sara, but I didn’t know things had got this bad. I have no idea how Mum and Dad are going to cope with my sister and her feral boys.
‘That’s going to be interesting.’
‘It’ll be a bloody nightmare,’ Dad grins. ‘Temporary though. She’s
