Chapters (35)
- Cover
- About the Book
- About the Author
- Also by Helen Sedgwick
- Dedication
- Audio log
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Audio log
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Audio log
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Audio log
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Audio log
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Audio log
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Audio log
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Audio log
- Chapter 15
- Audio log
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Video log
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Acknowledgements
‘You don’t seriously expect me to be impressed with your inheritance,’ he’d said, moving his questions about her personal life and family history to the top of his list. Her smile was already fading. ‘Especially not when you’re so set against progress. Tell me, what exactly is it you’re clinging on to?’
But something about the interview reminded him of how he now felt about Holly and Rosie. Though Holly had been poor once, hadn’t she? It was a part of their story – though a part not usually talked about. He wondered if the baby was born yet. Thought again of the puff piece he was going to have to write if he wanted to get paid at all this week. And then he thought about the defaced poster.
It was no use.
He dialled Eva’s number, waited with apprehension as it rang. It would be good to hear her voice. Even if she did shout. Perhaps she had every right to shout.
The tone rose. The phone rang again.
His apprehension turned to something else as he imagined what she’d say when she answered. Was there a chance, even now, that she might be happy to hear from him?
He would say her name, then wait to hear what she said. Perhaps, if she thought he was on to something, he would get to see her again. And there they were, five years of life shared that he tried not to remember. Five years of conversation that ran on into the night. She forced him to see new points of view. Forced him to defend his own, questioned everything he said. It had been infuriating. But that’s a lie. It had been like waking up to a world brighter than it had been before, living life with Eva. Yes, he wanted to see her again. He couldn’t help it.
The phone switched to voicemail.
He didn’t leave her a message.
The cafe James Quentin had suggested was not opposite the FullLife birthing centre, it was better than that – down the side street around the corner, out of the way, hidden, but close. So very close. The coincidence was too much – he had to work there. It wasn’t that surprising. They treated their staff well, offered good career paths, believed in keeping their students on to become researchers. Eva paused on the corner to look up at the building in all its fracture-proof glory. It made her shudder.