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Back A Bumpy Year Save as PDF
Chapters (49)
  1. Cover
  2. Also by Olivia Spooner
  3. A BUMPY YEAR
  4. Copyright
  5. Contents
  6. Dedication
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. Acknowledgements
  48. About the Author
  49. An Invitation from the Publisher

I fix my eyes at the back of Will’s head as everyone else streams out behind Mum, staring at me as they go past.

The air outside is fresh and reviving after the stale humidity inside. I inhale deeply and follow Will off to one side. We silently observe everyone gathering to murmur his or her condolences to James and Mum. No one approaches us and I have to work hard to resist smiling. I’m no longer a part of this false and empty world anymore. I got away and made a life for myself. I escaped.

My heart flips when I spy James’ two boys hovering by the church gate. They look watchful, as if they’re under threat. I’d like to go to them, crouch down and introduce myself. But if I do, I’d be crossing a line. A line I’m not ready or willing to cross.

Will squeezes my arm. “How are you holding up?” he asks quietly. “Ready to escape?”

I nod.

“I’m going to talk to Mum briefly,” Will says, chewing on his thumb. “Is that OK?”

I shrug. “Go for it.”

“Do you want to come with me?”

I smile weakly. “No, thanks.”

Will slowly makes his way through the crowd and taps Mum on the shoulder. Her back is to me as they talk. After less than a minute, she grabs Will’s arm, leans in and kisses him on the cheek. Then she turns and looks at me. There are tears in her eyes and her face is so twisted with emotion, I turn away and head towards the car.

Mum doesn’t chase after me or call out my name. Which shouldn’t hurt because I don’t want to speak to her. I want to leave this reminder of my past and go home. There’s nothing for me here. There never was.

36

“I can’t believe your dad died and you never told us,” says Lily, leaning back in one of my newly acquired deckchairs and flicking off her sandals.

We’re soaking up the sun, waiting for the oven timer to tell us our mince and cheese pie is ready. Lily rang to say she was coming for a visit and would bring lunch. She thought it was a hilarious joke bringing a meat pie. In reference to Elliot, of course – or “pie guy” as she calls him. If he hadn’t bought me a pie all those months ago, I wouldn’t be pregnant in the first place. What a thought.

“We weren’t exactly close.”