CHAPTER ONE

Two months earlier

‘SHE GOT OFF OKAY THEN?’
Sophie’s best friend Bea passed over an unbleached paper napkin
from the neat stack which sat on the counter next to pottery bowls
full of misshapen brown sugar lumps.
‘Not a glance back over her shoulder.’ Sophie blew her nose
loudly, stuffing the napkin in the pocket of her blue-spotted raincoat,
and then took another and began dabbing at the corner of her eyes.
‘You’re supposed to be proud that she’s independent,’ said Bea,
pushing a steaming mug of coffee towards her friend.
‘I am,’ said Sophie, disconsolately.
‘I can tell.’ Bea’s fair eyebrows arched upwards in amusement,
but her expression was gentle. She reached over, closing her warm
hand over Sophie’s still cold one, and squeezing gently. ‘You’re doing
an amazing impression of a mother who’s just sent her only
daughter on a plane back to the USA.’
Sophie gave a gusty sigh and tucked her hair behind her ears,
looking at her wrist for the elasticated hairband that was normally
sitting beside her watch. She remembered with a little jolt of despair
that it was currently tying up Tabby’s hair, and was probably making
its way across Iceland.
‘I’m really proud of her. You know I am. It’s just…’
‘I
know. It’s a long way, and she’s not back now until the
summer.’
‘She’s not back for the summer.’ Sophie’s heart contracted at the
thought. ‘She’s already been snapped up for a summer job coaching
kids at a camp. She was utterly over the moon when she told me.’
‘I assume you did your best impression of not minding at all?’
‘Exactly.’ Unlike now, when she was giving in to the sadness she
felt, her cheeks rigid and her eyes red-rimmed from crying all the
way home from Manchester airport. Sophie picked up the mug and
took a sip, gazing out of the window at the rainy January street. An
almost empty bus splashed past on the sleek wet tarmac, and an
elderly couple – him in a flat cap, his wife in an old-fashioned rain
hat – peered into the window of the café, looked at each other and
without exchanging a single word, headed inside. A blast of chilly air
made the hairs on her arms stand on end as they made their way in,
taking off coats and hats and making a long performance of finding
somewhere to sit. Bea, who had infinite patience with people, picked
up a menu and headed over to welcome them with her habitual
smile. Sophie turned back to her coffee, leaning against the counter
and watching as her friend put the couple at their ease, making
them laugh as she took their order.
‘Sorry, you came in for a chat and I’ve been run off my feet. Give
me ten minutes to sort this lot out and I’m all yours.’
The door swung open again as another group of customers came
in from the rain. The air filled with the sound of chatter, along with
the clatter of cups and dishes behind the counter as Bea and her co
workers got to work. Steam clouded the mirror behind the shelves.
Sophie, realising she was in danger of getting under her friend’s feet
standing by the counter, made her way down the little side passage
to sit in her favourite battered leather armchair, trying very hard not
to think about all the times in the past when she’d been here after
school with Tabby, and failing quite spectacularly.
She pushed aside a copy of the local newspaper which had been
left on the table by a previous customer, feeling the usual sense of
revulsion tinged with fear that she experienced whenever she caught
sight of the sensationalist headlines. On second thought, she didn’t
want to share space with it at all. She picked it up and dropped it
with disdain into the recycling bin under the noticeboard.
Half an hour passed. Bea, who had the best of intentions but
always forgot how busy the café got on rainy days, had managed no
more than a brief apologetic wave and several I’ll be with you in a
moments.
Tabby’s words on the journey to the airport were still echoing in
Sophie’s ears. Her daughter was moving on with her life, having
been brave enough at eighteen to take the opportunity of a soccer
scholarship at a US university where – thanks to some talent
spotters at a national girls’ football tournament – she’d been offered
what was known as a full ride, which meant that everything from
travel to university fees to accommodation was covered.
It would have been an opportunity too good to miss for anyone,
but under the circumstances, Sophie had bitten back her desolation
at the thought of losing her baby and encouraged her to go for it.
Nearly ten hours away by plane would be far enough to keep her out
of harm’s reach.
Not that Tabby had any inkling about any of that, of course. No,
because Sophie had spent all of Tabby’s life teaching her to be
brave, go for what she wanted, have big ambitions. The irony wasn’t
lost on her.
‘So what are you going to do now, Mum?’ Returning for the
Christmas break, Tabby had looked around the little house where
she’d grown up. Tall and sporty, after a semester in the states she
somehow seemed to have grown six inches taller, tanned from the
Atlanta sunshine and broad-shouldered from working out in the gym
every day. Sophie had been so desperate to get her daughter back
that she’d made sure everything was exactly the way she
remembered it – the familiar things in the fridge she loved to eat,
the same old pizza ordered from the little shop along the road the
first night home.
Bea had asked how it had gone after Tabby had been home for a
couple of days.
‘Oh great,’ she’d replied, brightly. ‘Yeah, it’s so lovely to have her
back.’
The truth that Sophie didn’t want to admit – the truth which
hung in the air as they sat on the same old sofas watching the same
crime show (‘I saved them all for you so we can have a big binge
with pizza’) was that Tabby had gone to the USA to spread her
wings, and while Sophie had been busy trying to cope with empty
nest syndrome, her little bird had grown so big that the nest simply
wasn’t the right fit any more, no matter how much she hoped it
might be.
Sophie picked up her coat and the coffee mug and headed back
to the counter. ‘I’m sorry,’ said Bea, leaning over to give Sophie a
kiss with a huge plate of lemon meringue pie in her hands, ‘I think I
need to admit defeat. It’s just far too busy today. Let’s catch up
properly later in the week. Maybe a drink? Dinner? Mark can cook
and we’ll have wine by the fire.’
‘Sounds perfect,’ said Sophie, fastening her coat and wrapping
her scarf around her neck as she prepared to head out into the rain.
She blew her friend a kiss and left the cosy warmth of the café for
the chill of the January street, car keys jingling in her hand as she
walked.
Ten minutes later, she was driving through the traffic in Crosby
towards the veterinary surgery where she’d worked since Tabby was
at kindergarten. She pulled up outside, managing to sandwich her
little blue Citroen between a white van containing two men in high
vis vests who were eating sandwiches and looking at their phones,
and her boss Nick’s sleek black Range Rover. The ugly, flat roofed
building housed not only the surgery, but also a rather depressed
looking charity shop full of second-hand clothes and leftover junk
from house clearances, and a newsagent which had a tattered sign
outside promising that someone would be the winner of this week’s
lottery. Unlikely, thought Sophie, as she did every time she saw it,
then smiled to herself, thinking of the ever-positive Tabby, who’d
reprimand her and say, ‘someone has to win it’.
The brass plate by the door of the surgery was freshly polished.
She paused for a moment on the threshold, noticing it when
normally she passed it by.
‘Nick Kouros MRCVS,’ the sign announced. Normally she passed it
by, but today for some reason the absence of her name – and
identical qualification – rankled. She shook herself, putting a hand to
the door.
‘Waiting for something?’ Hattie, the new receptionist, bustled up
behind her, unfastening her jacket as she shook out an umbrella,
taking up space so Sophie automatically shrunk slightly. She looked
at Sophie and lifted an amused, perfectly shaped eyebrow. ‘Or
someone?’
Sophie hadn’t warmed to Hattie when she’d arrived a couple of
months ago. She’d never been exactly glamorous, dressing for work
every day in a practical uniform of black jeans and a polo shirt with
the surgery logo embroidered on the front. She’d always nodded and
smiled politely when the others were chatting about hair and make
up – both things that she’d never really managed to work up
enthusiasm about, but somehow the uber-glam Hattie had changed
the atmosphere in the surgery. Now Sophie had the uncomfortable
feeling that she was the punchline to a joke that was going to
happen as soon as she walked out of the room, and she didn’t like it
very much.
‘Not waiting for anything – or anyone,’ said Sophie, finally. Hattie
tipped her head upwards in a nod of acknowledgement with a little
amused twist to her mouth, as if – despite having only been there
for a month or so – she’d already established that the chances of
Sophie having any sort of romantic entanglement was so unlikely as
to be laughable.
‘Didn’t think so somehow.’ Hattie gave a tinkly little laugh. ‘You
coming in?’
Sophie pulled a face behind Hattie’s back as she bustled inside,
which wasn’t very grown up but made her feel slightly better.
Afternoon surgery wasn’t due to start for another ten minutes,
but already the waiting room was filling up. In the corner, a long
legged woman sat with a cat box on her knee, hugging it tightly and
shooting disapproving looks across the floor at a short balding man
in a pair of unseasonal Bermuda shorts, who was stroking the ears
of his Boxer dog with one hand, and rubbing his stubbled chin
anxiously with the other. A fair-haired woman with two brown and
white Cavalier spaniels stood to one side reading the notice board
while her dogs sat obediently with their tongues lolling. Hattie
adjusted the collar of her uniform shirt and sat down at the
reception desk, already wise to the fact that the best way to deal
with clients was to avoid catching their eye at any costs until you
were ready to deal with them. Despite this, when her computer
chirruped a note of welcome everyone surged forward at the same
time. Meanwhile, Sophie, who had taken off her coat and hung it up,
looked through the client list for the afternoon and was now heading
towards her room, smiled to herself. Sometimes being the sort of
person who flew under the radar had its advantages.
The afternoon rushed past in a blur of the usual routine
vaccinations and health checks. Only when her four o’clock
appointment was a no-show did she grab a moment to head out to
the loo and to make a quick coffee. She’d just taken a scalding hot
sip when she sensed that she was being discussed on the other side
of the surgery. Lisa, the older receptionist, pushed her blue glasses
up on her forehead and sat back in her office chair behind the desk.
‘You’ll do it, won’t you Soph? I bet you’re free.’
‘Do what?’ Sophie made her way across the waiting room, smiling
at a little girl who was holding on tightly to her pet gecko.
‘Nick’s been held up and can’t do evening surgery.’ Lisa took her
glasses off and started cleaning them on the hem of her polo-shirt.
Katy, the student nurse, gave a snort of amusement. ‘Held up my
backside, I bet he’s out for lunch with that glamorous sales rep from
the drug company that was in the other day. He’ll be halfway down
his second bottle of red.’
She looked at Hattie and they giggled.
‘Anyway,’ said Lisa, replacing her glasses. ‘You’ll do it, won’t you?
Be a love. It’s not like you have to rush home for Tabby now she’s in
America.’
Ouch, thought Sophie. Nice way to make me feel completely
redundant.
She opened her mouth and then closed it again a moment later.
She’d never been very good at making up excuses on the spot.