‘Sleep OK?’ Sandy asked, pouring her friend a juice from the glass jug that stood on the table.
‘A little too well, I think.’ Ellie pulled a face as she inclined her head towards the clock on the wall. Sandy waved her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. Looks like the rest did you good. You look brighter today.’
Ellie raised her one unbruised eyebrow in disbelief.
‘Seriously.’
‘She’s right,’ Molly said, bustling into the kitchen and taking charge of the pans on the stove. She paused for a moment and turned, meeting Ellie’s eyes. ‘Sometimes we want to keep everything inside when really it just all needs to come out so that we can start healing. Physically and mentally.’ Ellie flushed and dropped her gaze. ‘What a way to do it though,’ she said, taking a sip of her orange juice.
Sandy and her mother exchanged a glance. Molly turned off the heat under the pan and crossed the kitchen, taking the seat next to Ellie. Reaching out, she took her hand, holding it within her own.
‘What is it that you’re worried about?’
Ellie felt the tears build in her eyes once more. Snatching a napkin from the table, she pressed it to them for a second.
‘I just feel …’
Molly and Sandy waited.
Ellie took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. ‘It’s just that … Ben, of all people!’
‘Ben cares about you. He always has.’
‘Yes. But … it’s not like I really know him anymore. I only saw him a couple of times after we moved back to England and I think the last time I actually even talked to him, apart from the quick thank you on the phone that time, was probably over ten years ago. And then I go and do a hysterical blubbing act on a huge music star’s designer shirt.’
‘He felt awful about upsetting you. Anything he could do to make up for that, he would have done willingly. Besides, Ben is still Ben. Just because more people know his name and face doesn’t mean he’s changed any,’ Sandy replied.
‘He didn’t upset me. I just … I just wasn’t expecting to see anyone else and it took me by surprise. Please explain that when you talk to him – unless they’re due to visit again?’
Ellie wasn’t sure how she felt about that particular circumstance. Sandy was right. She did feel better in a way, but not necessarily better enough to come face to face with the celebrity she’d noisily sobbed all over the previous evening.
Sandy nodded. ‘He’s heading off today on some promo thing so I don’t think they’ll be around for a little while now but I’ll be sure to tell him. I promise.’
Molly smiled and patted Ellie’s hand. ‘Right. Breakfast!’ she said, standing.
‘I’ll just get some cereal,’ Ellie said, making to follow her. That’s plenty.’
Molly laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. ‘Not in this house. You should know that by now.’
Ellie sat back down and couldn’t help smiling. She did know that by now. Her many visits, both when living next door and thousands of miles away, had taught her that. And when delicious smells began wafting her way as Molly sang to herself at the stove, she looked over at Sandy and gave a smile.
Across the table, Sandy returned it, seeing the beginnings of change and feeling her heart lighten just a touch at that glimmer. Last night she could have punched her adored older brother but right now, she would have hugged him. Whatever he did or didn’t do, whatever he said or didn’t say, had helped her best friend take another step in the right direction. For that, she would be ever thankful to him.
*
Ben had loved his house as soon as he saw it. Sadly, it hadn’t been the new start with Cyndi that he’d hoped it would be. In fact, the day he’d taken her out there, not long after Ellie’s visit, his wife had hated it on sight.
‘You what?’ Cyndi had snapped. Her perfectly made up eyes, complete with overlong false lashes stared up at him, the expression in them hard.
‘I bought it.’
‘Without asking me?’
‘I wanted it to be a surprise.’
‘Well! It’s certainly that!’ she snorted.
‘There’s stables and a garden and—’
‘I know what’s here, Ben.’ Cyndi cut him off. ‘We came before, but you said you were looking at it for a friend.’ She gave a cursory glance around before meeting her husband’s eyes. ‘There’s no way I’m living here.’
‘You said it was nice when we came before.’
‘That’s because I didn’t know you were thinking of buying it! I guess it is nice if you like this kind of thing.’
‘Look, honey,’ Ben had tried to reason, ‘just give it a chance. I could even teach you to ride.’
‘I don’t want you to teach me to ride! Horses make me itch.’
Ben took a deep breath. ‘OK … so how about this? We don’t have to live here all the time. Just some of it. Have it as a place to come back to, away from the city and the noise and everything. A quiet retreat, you know.’
‘So what I want doesn’t matter? Is that what you’re saying?’
Ben looked confused. ‘Wait … what? No. That’s not what I said at all.’ He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure how she’d got that from what he’d just said. ‘You know that’s not true.’ He walked up to his wife and looked at her perfectly made-up face. A beautiful face and body in the perfect dress and shoes, with the perfect hair. She was everything he’d wanted. Wasn’t she?
The late summer wind blew around them. Somewhere deep inside his head a little voice pointed out that, despite the breeze, not one strand of Cyndi’s hair was moving. Ben lifted his fingers and touched her hair – it was almost rigid. She jumped back as though he’d burned her.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ she squealed, ‘You know I hate people touching my hair!’
‘I just …’ Ben knew his answer would sound ridiculous so chose not to finish the sentence. Cyndi was still staring at him, an incredulous look on her face as she nervously patted her hair.
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘Nope,’ Ben said quietly, lowering himself onto the steps of the porch before looking back up at his wife. She looked down and he noted that she seemed uncomfortable. Out of place.
‘Sit by me?’
She raised an exquisite brow. ‘It’s filthy!’
Ben turned his head and glanced down at the steps. They were kind of dusty. ‘It’s only dust. It’ll brush off.’ Cyndi let out a theatrical sigh. ‘Have you any idea how much this dress cost? Maybe if you ever wore something other than your jeans it might occur to you not to sit on the ground either.’
Ben didn’t know how much it cost. Only that he had paid for it. Something that had never bothered him. He’d just wanted to make Cyndi happy. Unfortunately, that particular task had only got more and more difficult each day of their marriage.
‘You never used to mind the way I dressed,’ Ben said, as he made little piles of dust with the toe of his boot.
‘Ben, sweetie,’ Cyndi wheedled, crouching beside him. He took it as an offer of compromise and knew it was as near to sitting on the floor as she was ever going to get. ‘I’m just saying that you’re successful enough to wear nice things.’
‘You