‘Oh.’ Lottie walked near to the vegetation-covered fence. There had been a few landslips over the years, and when she had looked at the cliff from below, the grassy edge hung over the gentle concave indent of the cliff. Birds nested under the overhang. She’d noticed them that afternoon when she’d been on the beach with Alex. She peered down then took a step back.

‘What if he staggered backwards?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that, wishing I’d paid more attention in physics.’

Lottie laughed. ‘You were no help with maths either.’

‘True.’ She stood and walked down the few steps. ‘I’m sorry.’

Lottie tilted her head. ‘What for?’

She stood a foot from Lottie. ‘For being a shit mother.’

Lottie moved backwards. That was the last thing she expected. ‘You weren’t.’

She shook her head. ‘I was.’

‘You loved me.’ Lottie looked away, trying to keep her voice steady.

‘From a distance, I think I may have.’ Her mother glanced over the edge of the cliff and shuddered. ‘I let my mother raise you . . . which was wrong, as she didn’t raise me very well – or at all, in truth.’

‘I’m sorry you and Gran weren’t close.’ Lottie took her hand and she looked down at their fingers. Her mother’s were long and elegant and Lottie’s were short and workman like.

‘Me too. Forgiveness came too late.’

‘Oh, Mum.’

She locked her fingers with Lottie’s. ‘Forgive me.’

‘Nothing to forgive.’ Lottie echoed the words she’d said to her grandmother.

‘There is. Both of us know it.’

Lottie looked down at their hands. ‘Mum.’

‘I’m sorry.’

She glanced up at her mother. ‘I love you and forgive you.’

‘Thank you.’

She kept hold of Lottie’s hand. All Lottie could think about were the years she had longed for this moment. She was grateful that Gran had been around to hold her hand and listen.

‘What are you thinking?’

She cast a quick glance at her mother, trying to read her mood. Should she dodge the question to keep the moment, or tell the truth and hope any anger would dissolve in the pink evening light?

‘Grateful for you and for Gran.’ Lottie held her breath, watching the emotions cross her mother’s face.

‘I’m glad I thanked her for loving you.’

That broke Lottie and the tears that she wouldn’t let come before began. Her mother pulled Lottie into her arms and she cried more, trying to speak.

58. Lottie

58

Lottie

4 August 2018, 9.30 p.m.

Her mother had gone upstairs to see Gran and she didn’t want to eat. Lottie walked through to the kitchen. Alex turned from the stove. ‘Hello, did you find her?’

‘Yes, but she’s not hungry.’

‘So you told her I was cooking?’ His eyes gleamed, although he managed to keep a straight face otherwise.