It made perfect sense. Bess recalled the lingering dull ache of loss in her chest, lying in her childhood bed as the summer wound on and on, waiting for her life to begin, waiting to make new friends, but always, always, keeping them at arm’s length and avoiding boys altogether because that was where danger lurked. She had remained closed down entirely until Mario had walked into the staffroom at the back of the supermarket some three years later and smiled at her.

‘I don’t suppose you’re Mr Roger Hamilton?’ he had asked, and they had both laughed.

‘I’m not,’ she had smiled.

‘Well, that’s a pity, because then I’d get to spend the afternoon with you, as that’s who I’m here to see.’ He had held her gaze a fraction longer than was polite and it had woken something inside her, something that had lain dormant for the longest time. ‘So, if you’re not Roger Hamilton, who are you?’

‘I’m Bessie, Bessie Worrall.’

‘Bessie Worrall,’ he had repeated. Her name left his lips like music, calling her to him with a soft, slow symphony that would help her mend.

‘You know, Michelle . . .’ Bess liked the novelty of saying the name; she tried to speak, tried to find the honest words of both justification and apology, but found it almost impossible, so instead she took a sharp breath and closed her eyes. ‘. . . it really has been so lovely to hear from you.’ She was aware of the closing nature of her sentence and of her clipped tone. Not for the first time in her life, this felt easier.

‘Well . . .’ Michelle too sounded like she wanted to say more. ‘Happy birthday, Bessie. And goodbye.’

‘Bye.’

Bessie put the phone back on to the charging station and let her head fall heavy on her chest. Leaning on the box the flowers had come in, her cry was a long, deep howl of heartbreak.

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER NINE

August 20th 1984

Bessie sat at her dressing table with a new sense of optimism that had been missing all day. There would be a way for her to achieve her dreams! She just had to figure it out. This change in mindset alone gave her hope of getting into the sky and landing in California. Shaking her head, she closed out images of Michelle walking into the sixth-form building and the allocated common room and sitting on the top deck of the bus, where only those in the final two years of school dared to venture.