The Last List of Mabel Beaumont(46)

Hello, thanks for the invite. Are you sure she wants us there?





I hate lying, always have. But this is for the greater good, isn’t it? Families belong together. Kirsty might be surprised at first, but she’ll thank me in the end. I’m sure of it. I type a response.

Of course. Still sorting out the details but it will be next Tuesday afternoon. Hope you’re free.





The reply comes within a minute.

We’ll be there.





I wonder who ‘we’ is. Both parents, presumably. Maybe the sister Kirsty mentioned, too? I picture them hugging, exclaiming over Dotty, seeing what a good job Kirsty is making of motherhood. And I think, I may not have long left but at least I’m doing some good. Righting some wrongs. After all those years of thinking nothing I could do would make a difference. Would Arthur be proud of me? I’d like to think he would.





22





When Patricia and Julie are in the kitchen chatting one afternoon, I spot Patricia’s phone lying on the arm of the sofa and when I touch it, there’s no password. On a whim, I reach for it, listening out for signs of either of them coming in here, and go to her contacts. Find Sarah. I jot down the number and put the telephone back where I found it, my heart thudding. What am I doing?

‘Martin’s coming for Christmas,’ Julie says, bustling in.

It’s as if she couldn’t wait another second. I turn a few pages of my notebook to hide the numbers I’ve just scribbled down.

‘That sounds like good progress,’ Patricia says.

‘Is it just the two of you?’ I ask.

‘Yes, like always. I’m hoping he’ll come over the night before so we can wake up together, but we haven’t sorted out the details yet.’

I see, suddenly, the potential for her to get hurt again. It’s been a little while now and he hasn’t moved back in, or even mentioned it, as far as I know. What if he’s stringing them both along?

‘Why is he messing about?’ I ask. ‘Why doesn’t he just move back in?’

Julie looks a bit hurt. ‘It’s not as simple as that, is it? We need to build the trust up again, take things slowly. We’re dating. He says it’s a bit like when we first met. Exciting. No arguments about whose turn it is to take the bin out.’ She elbows Patricia gently. ‘The answer is always his, by the way. Anyway, let’s get on with the party stuff. Did you hear back from the friends you invited?’

She looks at me, expectant.

‘No,’ I say. ‘I think it will just be us.’

I get a churning feeling in my stomach every time I think about being at the party and Kirsty’s family turning up. I wish I could share the load with Julie and Patricia, get their perspective on it. But I’m worried they’d say I’ve gone too far. I’m worried they’d be right.

‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Julie says. ‘Well, we’ll make sure it’s a lovely afternoon, won’t we?’

‘Yes, and I’ve asked some of the other mums at the playgroup,’ Patricia says.

Patricia offered her house as a venue the minute we mentioned the party, so we didn’t even have to ask her. When she asks for my notebook so she can make a list, my heart rate increases a bit. But she won’t start turning pages, I’m sure. I hand it over and she writes ‘Kirsty’s party’ in small, neat letters and underlines it twice. We talk about food and decorations. Patricia’s going to make a cake. I’m only half-listening to some of it. I’m thinking about what Patricia said, about Geoff’s ex hanging around, about how much Patricia misses those little girls. When Julie goes upstairs to change my bedsheets and Patricia takes the mugs through to the kitchen to wash up, I quickly type out a message.

Are you sure you can trust Geoff? I’d keep a close eye on him if I were you. From a well-wisher.





I send it, breath held. I know – I hope, even – this message could send the relationship into a downward spiral it will never recover from. But I don’t know Geoff. I know Patricia, and I know how much she loves her daughter and granddaughters. How much she wants them back.

‘Was that Reg Bishop any help, in the end?’ Julie says, coming back into the room. ‘What is it with you and that phone, Mabel? I didn’t see you use it once for the first few weeks I was here, and now you seem to be attached to it like a teenager.’

I put it beside me on the sofa, but I can’t help stealing glances at it every couple of minutes, trying to see whether there’s been a reply.

‘Reg Bishop was just the same as he always was. Smug and self-satisfied.’

‘Tell us how you really feel, Mabel,’ she says, laughing. ‘So what’s next, do you think?’

I say the words that I’ve been thinking for weeks. Ever since we started this, really. The ones I hoped never to say. The ones I’m sure she’s thought about, too.

‘Death records?’ I suggest.

There’s a silence, and Julie looks a bit sheepish.

‘I actually looked into that, when we started this, and I don’t think we have enough information. We don’t know what her last name was, do we? I mean, assuming it didn’t stay as Brightmore her whole life.’