• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

I shut it. ‘What did they do?’

‘I've no idea. I've yet to be so crass as to ask. Here he is. Can you see my spot?’ He raised his chin anxiously as a sleek convertible Mercedes drew up outside.

‘Hardly. Just keep your chin resting pertly in your hand all lunchtime. You'll be fine.’

And off he went, frisky with excitement, hopping into the open-top car with a toss of his blond head, and leaving me in charge of a shop and two dogs for a couple of hours, which I loved.

I wandered around, trying not to think too much, passing the time with customers, helping where I could – my embarrassingly thorough knowledge of light romantic fiction helping enormously – doing my best in Ludo's bit, where, I found, most people were experts anyway and knew what they were looking for, and surprisingly, managing not to dwell too much on my own problems. Managing not to go there. Up north.

After Anna's little outburst on the Banbury Road, I knew, of course, that something reasonably monumental had happened. And initially, I'd rung, of course I had, nearly broken my phone in the process. Something had stopped me calling The Old Rectory – pride, maybe – but the very next morning, on my first day at work, I'd tried again, hoping to get Ant on his mobile, when I knew he'd be in the car with the rep, and not with Bella. His answer machine was on. I left a message. No reply. I sent a text.

‘I know you can't talk, but Anna was very upset when I picked her up yesterday. What's going on? LOL E x.’ Quite measured, I thought.

I got an equally measured one back. ‘I'm sorry she was upset. Can I please tell you when I get back? LOL A x.’

I read it again. I was making coffee in Malcolm's back room at the time, Malcolm having just popped out to get the croissants. As the kettle came to a rolling boil I felt my blood rise with it. My thumb got to work.

‘No. Tell me now. If you think I'm going to sit here and stew while you…’

What, Evie? While he what? I stopped. Stared into space. Slowly erased the message. Scrubbed out my rant. Some quiet wisdom, something very un-Evie Hamilton stole over my soul. Something in my daughter's face in the Banbury Road, which I couldn't quite put my finger on.

Feeling curiously light-headed, I put the phone back in my pocket and walked into the main body of the shop. It was empty, happily. I went to the shelves, still feeling a bit… peculiar. Anna's face. Frightened. Contorted. Angry. I leaned my forehead on the spines. Breathed in… out… in… out… inhaling and exhaling the smell of new books, the paper, finding some small comfort in it, as I always had done. I shut my eyes. Tried to think. To find a sliver of light. Something Ant had to tell me face to face. Something to make Anna rush out and have every orifice pierced. To make her turn on me, accusingly, in the car, almost as if she hated me. And then want to get away from me. I stood up straight. Felt frightened. I went upstairs and plumped the sofas where the students sat. Came back down with the books they'd been reading and replaced them in the shelves. Frightened? Why? What had I ever done? This mess was all of Ant's making, this child of his. I was an innocent, a pawn! I'd ring again. Of course I would. No, I couldn't frigging well wait. No way. I reached for my phone, began to punch away – stopped. It was almost as if an invisible hand was staying mine, saying… no.

There was, of course, the very certain knowledge that Ant wouldn't tell me anyway if I rang. I knew that. And that only a fraction of him would come to the phone. The last time we'd spoken, when he'd informed me he was staying on, I'd got about a tenth of him. This time I'd get even less. He'd be polite yet firm. Whilst I got shrill and desperate. Cried, perhaps. I looked at the text. He'd asked if I could please wait. Asked politely. And implicit in that, I realized in a sudden rush of blood to the head, was Trust Me. My heart stopped rattling around in its cage and lay down quietly for two seconds. And Ant was an honourable man. I mustn't lose sight of that.