At this time of day, I rarely see anyone, but this morning, as I slow down, I see a slight figure leaning against one of the tallest oaks. It’s Hollie. If it’s possible for her to look any smaller or more fragile, when she sees me looking at her, she seems to shrink.
“Hey.” I come to a stop in front of her. “Are you OK?” Agitated, she’s standing amongst the oldest gravestones, clutching her hands, white knuckles protruding from bunched-up, too-long sleeves.
At first, she doesn’t speak, just continues to stare at her hands.
I feel myself frown. “Shouldn’t you be at school, Hollie?”
“Does it matter?” Her eyes darting around, she doesn’t look at me. “I mean, actually... does it?”
“Well, yes.” I’m trying to sound reasonable. “You have exams to think about. You don’t want to miss too many lessons.” Then I frown, wondering why she’s irritated with me.
“I can’t think about school,” she mumbles. “Not now. There’s too much going on.”
The look on her face makes my blood run cold. “Such as what?”
This time, she stares right at me, tears blurring her eyes. “I can hardly tell you.” She turns away. “Anyway, you’d be like everyone else. No one believes anything I tell them.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Knowing she’s prone to overdramatizing things, I try to sound conciliatory. “James—I mean your dad... you have a good relationship, don’t you?” But as I mention his name, a stricken look washes across her face.
She shakes her head. “Please don’t... Please. I mean it. It won’t do any good.”
Frowning, I take a step closer. “Has something happened, Hollie? If it has, if you want to talk to—”
But she interrupts me. “Go away.” Her eyes blaze but her voice is desperate. “You have no idea. You can’t help me. No one can.”
It isn’t my place to interfere. But I’m not prepared for her to speak to me like this. “Fine. It’s your life. You need to think about it, Hollie. You can’t just take time out from school.” It comes out more sharply than I intended.
“You can’t stop me.”
I frown at her. It’s as though she’s challenging me, pushing me, as if she wants something from me. “No.” I pause. “I can’t. But this isn’t about me.”
Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Ida Jones appear from under the trees. As she walks toward us, a look of panic crosses Hollie’s face. “Don’t tell her. Please...”
I don’t have time to ask what I’m not supposed to tell her, before I hear Ida’s gentle voice. “How are you, my dears?” Then turning to Hollie, she adds, “I didn’t know it was the holidays.”
“No.” I’m acutely aware of Hollie’s eyes on me. “Hollie wasn’t feeling so well this morning. We just happened to bump into each other.” The lie slips out. I’ve no idea where the need to justify why we’re here together comes from.
“Oh dear...” Ida scrutinizes Hollie’s face. “You do look pale, dear. Are you feeling poorly?”
“How’s your granddaughter, Ida?” Glancing at Hollie, I change the subject.
“She’s very well.” A wistful smile spreads across her face, then as her phone buzzes, she fumbles in one of her pockets. “I’m so sorry, but it’s my daughter. Would you excuse me?”
As she turns away to talk, I ask Hollie directly. “What are you hiding?”
She starts. “Nothing...” She pauses, but from the flush of color on her pale cheeks, I know she’s lying.
* * *
For the rest of my run, then while I shower and change, Hollie fills my head. I try to imagine what’s distressing her as well as what she’s hiding, feeling an obligation to tell her father about our conversation. It gives me a dual reason to go and buy flowers this morning.
It’s a ten-minute drive to the next village. Stephanie’s shop is on the outskirts, one of a number of small businesses that have premises within a range of stylishly converted farm buildings. Turning into the yard, I park in one of the cobbled spaces just outside her window.
Pausing for a moment, I look through the window, where inside, Stephanie’s talking on her phone. I watch her for a moment. She’s attractive in a deliberate sort of way, with angular features and a hardness that even too much makeup doesn’t hide. Today, she’s clearly agitated, her face flustered as she speaks on her phone. As she ends the call, she stands in the window, not moving for a moment. Then, seeing my car, she seems to obviously compose herself.
I recognize the scent of eucalyptus as I open the door. Stephanie’s behind her desk, going through what looks like a list of orders. “Hello.” I watch her guardedly.
“Elise . . . I won’t be a moment. How are you?” There’s no trace of the agitation I witnessed earlier. As always, her every movement is measured.
“Fine, thank you. I was hoping for some spring flowers to brighten the house.” As I speak, I’m thinking it isn’t just the house, it’s my life that needs a facelift. “This weather being so gray...” I gesture toward the window.
“It’s a terrible winter.” Putting down her book, she looks up. “But at least you get to see the sun.”
“Not so much at the moment. I haven’t had any long-haul trips for ages.” On a good day, I still get a blast of sunlight through the aircraft windows as we break through the clouds, but not always. “Can I see what you have?”
“Have a look. I had a delivery this morning.” She gestures toward the far end of the shop, which is where she sets out buckets of flowers. “Let me know if I can help.”
Wandering over, for a few minutes I lose myself in the array of flowers, before pulling out bunches of narcissi, iris, ranunculus and carrying them over to her counter. Stephanie eyes me curiously. “Is there an occasion?”
I shake my head. She’s probably itching to know if there’s a party she isn’t invited to. “Pure self-indulgence.” I pause. “I saw Hollie this morning.”
I watch a flicker of something cross her face. But whatever it is stays locked inside. “Is everything OK? She seemed upset.”
This time Stephanie looks at me. “Oh, everything’s more than OK.” Her voice is bitter, her words sarcastic. “Hollie has James exactly where she wants him.”
“It can’t be easy.” Not wanting to be drawn into Stephanie’s family politics, I glance around, looking for a way to change the subject, my eyes alighting on a row of plants with dark green fernlike leaves, arranged on a shelf. “Those are unusual.”
“Yes.” Without looking up, she carries on wrapping my flowers. By the time she’s finished, her face is flushed. “That will be sixty-eight pounds.” Then as I hand over my credit card, she sighs. “Look, you may as well know, things are not alright. Hollie’s determined to create a rift between me and James. I won’t bore you with the details. I was talking to the school—just before you came in? She’s missing too many classes. James needs to be firmer with her, but he won’t.” She breaks off. “Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m boring you with this. Everyone has their own problems.”
As her eyes hold mine, I can tell she knows Andrew’s having an affair. Is it with her? I stare at her, trying to imagine them together, then snap myself out of it. “Thanks.” Gathering up my flowers, I can’t get out of there fast enough. She’s