Chapter 46

Present Day

Amelia

My eyes flick over the lounge where I spent so much of my childhood. Sometimes it’s painful transporting myself back there, but today I feel lucky that I can lose myself in the memories. Today I want to go there.

Dad and Thomas went out about half an hour ago. I didn’t tell them what happened in town today. That I thought I saw the mask in the antique shop window; that I collapsed, an emotional wreck, on the pavement. They’ve got enough to contend with. And I’m OK now, really I am.

I head over to the CD player and put on my parents’ Fleetwood Mac CD, and as the music blares from the speakers, I can almost see Mum dancing around the room in her own world, a glass of wine in her hand, while Dad sits at the table, lost in his museum research, barely seeing her. Maybe they were never as suited as I always dreamed they were.

I drift around the lounge cupping a glass of wine with both hands, as I follow my family’s journey in pictures that grace the walls – from Mum and Dad’s wedding day, through the baby years, the teen years and beyond. There are so many studies, put up by Mum long before she took off with Jackson. Dad hadn’t taken them down when she left. In fact, he changed very little – even the fake sweet peas she made into a beautiful display more than ten years ago still stand on the windowsill.

‘Why were you so flattered by Jackson’s stupid boyish charm, Mum?’ I say into the silence, a bubble of anger rising, then dissipating. ‘You were so lucky Dad was there for you at the end to pick up the pieces.’

I put down my glass, and bend down to pull an old photo album from the dresser, and flop down on the sofa. The album smells musty. Black-and-white photos are held on greying cardboard pages with photo mounts. I’ve seen these photos before over the years, but now they are painful to see. I take in a study of Mum in platform shoes, and a fake-fur jacket. There’s no conservatory but there’s no doubting it was taken outside Ruth and Finn’s cottage, and the other teenagers in the picture are Ruth and Michael Collis.

I look at their young faces, at the way Ruth holds hands with Michael, staring up at him adoringly, and the tragedy that both Mum and Ruth are now gone hits me once more.