In that slicingly clear moment, Hope understood something utterly. She would now have to say goodbye to dead Minnie. She would have to let her lie, because Florence had turned up to claim herself, and Hope could not, should not get in her way. In an instant, Hope grasped the true breadth and width of a mother’s love. It was selfless love that meant whatever was right for Minnie would be the right thing. The only thing. Strangely, Hope felt a sense of relief. The future was out of her hands now.
Hope looked at Minnie, and took both her hands in hers. ‘I love you so much, Min. You are my reason, and you are my joy. And that’s a fact, whatever happens.’
‘Thanks, Mum. And soz for the ugly things I said, but … y’know …’
‘I know,’ Hope told her.
‘Well, this is all a tad wawa, doncha think?’ Minnie tried to lighten the moment.
‘Yep. Colossal wawa,’ Hope agreed. ‘What the hell happens now?’
‘Tea?’ chimed in Lee, knowing what’s what – good lad.
‘Yeah, tea,’ they both agreed.
Hope looked at the envelopes on the bed and one in particular caught her eye: the one with a stamp of Captain Paul Cuffee on it. She knew that face; she knew that image.
‘Hey, Min, have you seen this fella before?’ she asked her daughter.
Minnie screwed up her eyes and looked closely at it. ‘Um, no, don’t think so … Oh wait, yeah, yeah’ – it dawned on her – ‘is it that guy in the picture on the wall above your bed? That old picture?’
‘Yep. That’s right. This is Captain Paul Cuffee. And Isaac really rated this man; that’s why he had the picture. It was someone way back in his family or something, I think. You need to check him out. Isaac left that picture. I think you should have it, now everything’s … y’know.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Minnie understood. ‘Mum, I know what we have to do. And you know really.’
‘Yes.’ Hope did indeed know.
Minnie continued, ‘We have this cuppa, you get Nanna Doris and Aunty Glory over, you tell them … then we have to tell the police. We have to.’
‘Hmmmm. Yes.’ Hope knew she was right. ‘But can we have one last night of normal – get a curry, cuddle on the sofa, have some tunes and a lickle dance – before we do any of that? Maybe tomorrow? One more night with my daughter before it all hits the fan?’
Minnie laughed. ‘C’mere, lie down with me, and stroke my arm like I was five.’
Hope moved up the bed, laid her head on the pillow and beckoned her pregnant daughter into the crook of her shoulder. Minnie snuggled in next to her, and said, ‘I love you, Mum, you baby-thieving shithead …’
Anna: the News
Anna whizzed up some healthy green goo in her NutriBullet. It was broccoli and kale and spinach and a dollop of honey to make it palatable. It wasn’t palatable. She couldn’t understand how some vegetables, which she ordinarily loved individually, could taste so vile when blended together. Nor did she really understand why she was putting herself through a food trial akin to jungle celebrity awfulness when she could instead have a plate of steamed loveliness for surely the same amount of calories and nutritional value?
It didn’t escape Anna that this was a good dilemma to have. She was aware that a great many of the things she did in her life were simply to occupy time and distract her from falling into the well of sadness which sat inside her, but her therapist Maddy helped when she explained, ‘There’s a simple reason you won’t fall in, Anna. Because you acknowledge, fully, that it’s there.’
‘Yes, I know it’s there. I so know.’ Anna had been sitting on the wall of the well with both feet dangling dangerously in, way back when she had been married to Julius, but now that she wasn’t, and hadn’t been for years (although, God knows, she sometimes felt that she was sleepwalking through her life), both feet were planted firmly on the ground beside the vast drop. She could see in, but she wasn’t on the precipice any longer, and she had a strong will telling her it would be horrific to fall in. Telling her not to. So, she had coping mechanisms. One misguided method was alcohol, for a while, but she had since decided that her future would be alcohol-free. For now, anyway. She wanted to see ahead through clear eyes, and she wanted to be healthy.
As she tried to gulp down the repulsive smoothie, she sauntered over to the window of her first-floor flat and looked down at the street. A police car was parked up directly outside. Her eye was drawn to it immediately, like a moth to a flame. She shuddered. She hated seeing police cars; they brought back too many difficult memories. She was about to turn away when the door opened and, to her astonishment, out stepped the newly appointed, and hardly changed at all, Inspector Debbie Cheese, who started to make her way up the path towards the front door of Anna’s building. Anna froze. Oh God. Seventeen years went by while Anna waited for Debbie to come up one set of stairs. Or so it seemed. It was in fact only a minute before the thunderous knock came on her door.
Anna had to persuade her legs to work, which took a few seconds. As she opened the door, she scanned the policewoman’s face so hard she thought it might hurt her.
‘Breathe, Anna,’ said Debbie. ‘Can I come in? It’s just me.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. God, yes, yes, yes,’ said Anna, burbling nervously as she led Debbie Cheese into her front room.
‘Sit down, Anna.’
‘Is she dead? Just tell me. Is Florence dead?’
‘Please sit down.’
She did.
Debbie continued, ‘I hoped so much this day would come, Anna, but if
