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Back Just the Way You Are Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. Acknowledgments
  39. Author’s Note
  40. More from Beth Moran
  41. About the Author
  42. About Boldwood Books

‘Right.’ Watery eyes darted from the table to me, and then the door. ‘If you wouldn’t mind taking everything back into the kitchen, only – ooooh – my chest isn’t feeling very good.’ She took a deep breath, blowing it out as if trying to ease the agony.

‘No problem.’

I ignored her rapidly increasing huffs and groans as I raced in and out of the kitchen and tidied all the food into the fridge. ‘All sorted. We can leave the table set up ready for tomorrow. Here.’ I handed her a glass of water and an aspirin. ‘Why don’t you get settled on the sofa and have a rest? That usually helps your chest feel better.’

I’m not sure which of us was more surprised when I slipped into my shoes, grabbed my bag and walked out. My mistake was pausing, ears pricked, one hand on the open front door.

‘AH! OOOH!’ Mum’s cries easily carried down the hallway. ‘Olivia, have you left yet? Only… my chest… I need… please don’t…’

I closed my eyes. There was a moment’s silence while she waited for me to rush back inside. When I held my ground, she called louder. ‘No, it’s fine. You go and have a nice time. I’m just… calling… 999… If you wouldn’t mind texting Aunty Linda… I’m scared to go to hospital on my own… ouch… OOOOH!’

Yes, I was ninety-five per cent sure it was an act. Yes, I’d heard it all before and worse. But I still couldn’t walk out leaving Mum waiting for an ambulance alone.

Once I heard her speaking to the emergency operator, I stepped back inside and closed the door. Even as I fetched a blanket, as I texted Mark with the same pathetic apology I’d used so many times before, I made a life-changing decision:

This was the last time my mother was going to control my life.

The last time.

I was done.

2

The following day, I finished work at three. Having arrived back in Sherwood half an hour later (Sherwood the Nottingham suburb, not to be confused with the forest), I got off the bus and headed straight to the shop.

Mum’s older sister, Aunty Linda, ran the Buttonhole craft shop and haberdashery, situated in prime position in amongst Sherwood’s artisan bakeries and gin bars. Aunty Linda’s shrewd business mind and talent for evolving one step ahead of the times had allowed the Buttonhole to not only survive, but thrive for over three decades. Mum also worked there, but when her ‘pains’ flared up a few years ago, she’d cut down her hours along with her enthusiasm, demoting herself from sought-after craftswoman to lacklustre shop assistant. She wasn’t in today, hence me visiting.