Page 33 of One for the Road
Annabelle.
The words were laced with sugar, as sweet as she’d always been. But now they felt like a trap. As did the loose circle of fingers around my elbow.
Four months of no contact. Not even a reply to the single misjudged text message I’d sent her the night Cameron confessed.
Why?
The word still haunted me.
I turned, straightening out of her grip and folding my arms while every eye in the room turned in our direction. “Okay.”
A steady smile curled her lips, taking her words with them. “You look well.”
No, I didn’t. I looked tired, my hair was greasy, and I was sweaty from the bike ride over. No snail mucus for me. “I have to get back to Teddy.”
“Right, of course. I just wanted you to know, I’m sorry about the rule changes.” Her brown eyes were wide. Pleading for me to understand. “I hope you know it’s completely out of my hands. The committee want to spice it up a bit this year – it’s why the prize fund has risen. They’re hoping to attract local news, really put Kinleith on the map.”
It all sounded perfectly logical. Then why didn’t I believe her?
I plastered on a smile of my own. “It’s not a problem.”
“Cameron and I would pull out in a show of solidarity, but with the cake shop just opening and all the work on the house . . .” Her words faded out. Mentally, I was in one of those demolition rooms, swinging a baseball bat against a mirror until nothing remained but sweat and shards of glass.
Of course she and Cameron were taking part.
“I’m so glad you understand.” Her hand on my arm. That head tilt again. “There’s always next year. And who knows, maybe you’ll have a new man by then. We’d both love to see you happy.”
We.
The word made my stomach drop like I was next in line for a root canal.
We. Her and Cameron.
They were awenow. And she was looking at me like she knew precisely how much that hurt to hear.
At one point Cameron and I had been awe. Then Teddy came along and thatwebecame anus. Now it was just Teddy and me, the onlywethat truly mattered.
I didn’t want to talk to this woman a moment longer. “I’ll see you around, Annabelle.”
There. Calm and collected. I was almost proud of myself as I edged around her toward the door, making eye contact with a few onlookers. This was gossip I was more than happy for them to spread.
Then her next words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “Absolutely. After all, we are family now.”
“We are family now.” I huffed, cycling home. “The bloody nerve of the woman.”
The committee meeting had left me with an icky feeling coating my skin, like a layer of sweat. I breathed in the evening air, letting it wipe the grossness away.
The heat of the day had dropped, and the salty breeze exploited the weaknesses of my wide-knit cardigan, bringing forth memories of ice cream and vinegar-drenched chips on the holiday Mum and I had taken to Brighton when she and Dad were in the middle of a particularly bad split. We’d ridden the roller coaster on Brighton Pier and eaten candyfloss until we’d been sick. It was the happiest I’d ever seen her.
We’d barely been home a day when Dad texted me, not to check in, but an apology he wanted me to pass along.Tell your mum I’m sorry, she’ll listen to you.
Dad had moved back in three weeks later.
And I’d realised that trip Mum and I had taken, Mum actually being happy, was just a spell in a fantasy world.
I channelled my frustration into every push of my feet against the pedals until the last of the light abandoned me. Exiting Kinleith village, I passed over a cattle grate, pretending there weren’t a thousand little beady-eyed sheep along the moors, waiting for me to spill from my bike and eat me.
I cursed the bike’s broken front lamp and my lack of funds to replace it.
