Chapter 7
A Year Ago
Amelia
‘Caroline and I will grab Bluebell Cottage,’ Jackson said, waving the keys above his head like a tour guide, the sun glinting on his hair, making it shine like gold. He flashed Lark a smile, and added, ‘Lark, you can share with us.’
‘I’d rather not,’ she said. Her tone was calm and even, but there was something in the way her sister looked at him that Amelia couldn’t quite put her finger on.
‘Oh please stay with us, darling,’ Caroline said, gripping Lark’s hand. ‘We can have some mother and daughter quality time.’
Jackson placed a set of keys in Amelia’s hand. ‘The rest of you can take Honeysuckle Cottage.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Amelia muttered, and as she turned to head away, first checking her mum wasn’t watching, she saluted him. She knew it was childish, that she should, for her mum’s sake, stop acting the fool.
As they walked away, Maddie was suddenly in step beside Amelia. She linked her arm through her elbow. There was no doubting she was stunning, with glossy raven hair, a clear, olive complexion, and deep brown eyes. She had come over from America and was staying with family when she’d spotted the advertisement for a carer for Thomas a year ago. It was after some awkward interviews, including one with a man in his eighties with arthritis who Robert was certain needed a carer more than Thomas, and one with a woman who insisted she would have to bring her three Labradoodles with her because they couldn’t possibly cross their legs for the four hours she would be away, that twenty-two-year-old Maddie Jenkins turned up, brightening the room.
Thomas liked her from the off, and although he’d never admitted to anyone the emotional pain he’d been under since his accident, closing himself off completely when he returned from the States, the family knew Maddie had pulled him back from the edge.
‘Do you like him?’ Maddie whispered to Amelia now, as they made their way towards Honeysuckle Cottage. It was one of two cottages that backed onto part of the forest that formed a semi-circle around a large expanse of grass.
‘Who?’
‘Jackson.’ She kept darting him looks over her shoulder, a cigarette dangling from her free hand.
‘I barely know him.’ It was true. Amelia had seen him on the odd occasion she visited, and her observations were conflicted. On the one hand, he seemed fond of her mother, but he was also vain and cocksure of himself. She certainly wasn’t his biggest fan. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter whether I like him or not, Maddie,’ she said. ‘As long as my mum’s happy, I’m happy.’
‘He’s great-looking though, don’t you think?’ She almost swooned as they continued across the plush green grass.
Amelia glanced over her shoulder, watching as he headed into the cottage, his arm around her mum’s shoulders, Lark a few steps behind. As though sensing her stare, he bolted her a look, and smiled. Yes, he was good-looking – too good-looking – tall, slender yet muscular. She narrowed her eyes. Didn’t return his smile. What had attracted him to her mother? As lovely as her mum was, Jackson, with his charms and good looks, could have had his pick of women of his own age.
‘Not my type,’ Amelia said, looking forward once more. He wasn’t. She preferred her men a little rough around the edges – and Jackson was a priceless jewel that positively gleamed. She shrugged, unhappy discussing his appearance – or him at all for that matter. Apart from anything else, her dad was only a few steps in front of them pushing Thomas in his wheelchair.
‘So, how are things with you, Maddie?’ It was an attempt to change the subject.
‘Great.’ Maddie released Amelia’s arm, and ran towards the cottage, her floral dress flapping her calves.
Amelia followed and, once they were congregated around the red-painted door of the cottage where they would spend the next few days, she suddenly felt unnerved. The area was too quiet – just the rustle of trees swaying in a light breeze, the caw of a crow. She turned, taking in the ruins, shuddering at the sight of the crumbling walls, the broken statues. Why had her mum picked here and not Spain or Greece? But then she wasn’t fit enough to travel, and Amelia quickly chastised herself for being selfish.
This was where her mum had spent wonderful holidays as a child and as a teenager. It held happy memories for her. This break was all about her mum and nothing about Amelia. Supressing a sense of foreboding, she stepped inside the cottage and closed the door.
Chapter 8
Present Day
Amelia
Dad drives with care, snow crunching under tyres as he heads towards Honeysuckle Cottage, where we’d stayed a year ago.
Together we carry in our luggage, and close the door against the weather.
Ruth has lit the wood burner and the cottage feels warm and cosy, after the freezing conditions outside. We stand for some moments in the semi-darkness, both lost in thought, and I know, like me, the memories of last year are flooding Dad’s thoughts.
I feel that familiar sensation of tears rising. I would give anything to have everyone here with me, for the sun to beam down – for the sky to be clear and blue. ‘What are we doing here, Dad?’ I drop my rucksack to the floor with a thud, and flick on the light, hope of finding anything that could lead to Lark falling away.
‘I’m already wondering that myself, love.’ He runs his fingers through his damp hair. ‘I suppose I thought … well like I said before … that something might come to me. But now we’re here it feels such a ridiculous idea.’
I tug off my boots and coat, and pad towards the window.
