Page 111 of The Next Chapter

I call the only person in my life who has never let me down or left me.

‘If you’re calling me at ten o’clock on a Saturday night to FaceTime your cat, we are going to be having serious words.’

‘I’m leaving. I’ll get a taxi. I’m coming back.’

‘What, now?’ says Seb.

‘Yes, now.’

‘You’ll need to remortgage the house to pay for a taxi home.’

I hear him moving around. I stand in the gardens and look up at the stars.

‘I can’t stay. Lola told me the rest of her story.’

‘I worked that bit out.’

‘She came and stayed here, while she was pregnant, I mean. With me. She came back here because she felt close to me. That’s why she’s willing to sell her memoirs to save the place.’

‘Shit, no way. And what about Ashton?’

‘He isn’t my dad. It was Jimmy Nickle. Their manager.’

‘What? But he was old when Lola was in the band.’

‘Yeah, he manipulated her. What great stock I come from! Oh, and Lola said Mum and Dad never passed on my letters, which can’t be true. Why the fuck don’t they have Uber up here?’

‘I’m already in the car, babes. Get off the island and I’ll come and meet you.’

‘I’ll find a hotel and message you. Thank you,’ I finish.

The call ends and the urge to keep moving is back. I need to pack. I need to get back to the cottage and… Noah.

He’s waiting for me on the couch when I come into the cottage, a beer in hand. There’s music playing through his phone. Lola’s song. My song.

He smiles when he sees me. ‘I can’t stop listening to this, you guys sounded great. Hey, what’s wrong?’

My ability to stamp down my emotions has clearly gone haywire. I don’t even need to look at myself to know that every bit of hurt I’m feeling is written all over my face.

‘It’s Lola,’ I tell him, making no move to go to the couch and sit next to him. What would be the point?

‘What about Lola?’ He frowns. ‘Is she all right? Is everything okay? You’re freaking me out, Lily.’

‘She’s fine, don’t worry. Well, except for the fact that… well, Lola, see, she’s my… Lola’s my mum.’

Lola isn’t my mum.

‘She’s my birth mum,’ I clarify.

Noah is staring at me like I’ve lost my marbles and honestly, it feels like I have.

‘I don’t understand?’ he ventures.

‘It’s pretty straightforward when you think about it.’ I laugh a hollow laugh. ‘Lola had a baby when she was twenty and that baby is me. She gave me up for adoption ten seconds after she had me by all accounts, so even though she’s technically my mum, she’s not really my mum. My actual mum is dead. And my dad, for that matter. Also dead. My birth dad sounds like a bit of a sex pest and guess what? He’s dead too!’

Now my fake laugh is tinged with mania.

Noah has stood up, now looking distinctly alarmed at the way I’m just throwing dead parents at him.