‘Are you going to be all right?’ Molly asked.
Joyce nodded. ‘Absolutely. Just promise me … promise me, Molly Jane, that you’ll be careful.’
‘Of course I will, Mum. It’s really safe, honest. There’s no way they’d let a group of strangers trek across the Arctic without all the proper equipment and precautions.’
‘You’re all I have left. I can’t lose you …’ Joyce’s reply trailed off into a croaked whisper before she dropped her head onto Molly’s shoulder.
‘Maybe you should get a hotel near the airport tonight?’ Molly said. ‘Driving back when you’re this upset isn’t a good idea.’
‘Oh.’ Joyce sniffed again and stood up straight as if just remembering that they were in the middle of Stansted Airport’s departures hall surrounded by people. ‘No, no, I’m fine. It’ll be too expensive.’
Molly followed Joyce’s gaze over the array of travellers with backpacks, suitcases, and luggage trolleys moving through the terminal. Why was she the only one with a distraught parent to deal with?
You know why. The voice in her head was sudden and came with a gut-twisting guilt that stole Molly’s breath.
‘Treat yourself,’ Molly pleaded. ‘You could go into London tomorrow and do some sight-seeing.’
A shadow darkened Joyce’s face.
‘Or anywhere, really,’ Molly added quickly. ‘You’ve always wanted to see Kensington Gardens.’ Molly pulled out a phone and fired a text to Erica: Where are you?!!
‘Fiona and the others will be expecting me back.’ Joyce wiped her sleeve across her face and seemed to compose herself a little.
Molly’s phone buzzed in her hand. A reply from Erica lit her screen: I got here early. I’m in the duty-free bit.
Flipping great, Erica. Thanks for the backup.
‘They’re cats,’ Molly sighed, forcing the annoyance out of her tone. None of this was her mum’s fault. ‘If you don’t feed them, they’ll go next door for grub.’
Joyce frowned but said nothing. The cats had been a source of comfort to Joyce at first. Fiona – the old grey tabby who’d been around almost as long as Molly – had given Joyce love and a purpose in the dark weeks after Billy.
But now their small three-bed terrace had become a haven for unwanted cats of varying colours, sizes, and decrepit states. The house stank of cat litter and crap, and there was cat hair on and in everything. Molly couldn’t make a cup of tea without fishing out at least three wiry hairs from the black cat with one eye who’d made a home beside the kettle.
‘I’d better go. Erica’s waiting for me.’
‘Please don’t,’ Joyce said, her voice barely a whisper over the crowd that had gathered beside them. Joyce tightened her grip on Molly’s arm.
Indecision tore through Molly. What was she doing? Why was she even going? No way could she leave her mum like this. No way. ‘OK, I’ll stay.’
The anger seethed through her blood and prickled her skin with sweat underneath her clothes.
Joyce dropped her hand as if she could feel the boiling rage burning her skin, then shook her head. ‘No. Ignore me. Of course you’re going. Erica’s relying on you. You two need to work things out and a change of scene will do you the world of good. I think we could both do with a change.’
Molly flicked a glance at the cheerful group, laughing and jostling around two blonde-haired girls – carbon copies of each other – wearing matching backpacks. A little boy and girl waved helium balloons on sticks with the words Good Luck written across them. The children craned their necks, watching the joyous farewell of the adults with wide-eyed glee. Molly looked back at the crumbling mess of her mother, the lone figure bidding her farewell. Not so much bidding, really, as begging her to stay.
‘What will you do whilst I’m away?’ Molly asked. Guilt and uncertainty battled for space alongside the anger in her thoughts.
Fresh tears pooled at the edges of Joyce’s eyes. She drew in a long breath before she spoke. ‘Well with you out the way it seems a fine time to get on with the spring-cleaning. It hasn’t been done for a few years now …’
Joyce’s voice trailed away. Molly could see her thoughts playing on the lines of her face. Spring-clean time. Every year for Molly’s entire life Joyce had spent a week in early spring cleaning the house. Not just cleaning but sorting. Every room, every drawer, every cupboard. ‘Out with the old,’ Joyce would say in between dancing to West End show tunes on the CD player.
Spring had come and gone last year with no mention of the annual clean. Every room meant Billy’s room too.
‘Wait another week. I’ll help you do it this year. It’s only nine days.’ Molly forced a cheer into her voice she didn’t feel, never felt actually. Maybe getting away, even for a short time, would be good for both of them.
Molly loved her mum so much but more and more she was starting to feel suffocated by Joyce, the house, the cats, the grief, the insomnia, the searing acidic anger that dogged her thoughts and burned her insides. Like the time when she was nine and had tried to melt the cheese for cheese on toast in the microwave, but had forgotten about the foil lining the plate. The microwave had zapped and hissed and sparked, and Billy had run in from the garden and ripped out the plug from the wall socket before the whole thing had exploded.
That zapping. That was how her insides felt. Except Billy wasn’t here to save her any more. Billy would never be there again, and if she didn’t escape now, if she didn’t find an outlet for the anger, she would be the one exploding.
Molly didn’t care about the adventure, the Arctic, the sleds, or the Northern Lights. And she didn’t give a monkey’s about whatever bonding experience Erica thought they’d have. Erica could’ve offered her a ticket to Tinsley sewage works and she’d probably have taken it.
‘Excuse me?’ A woman in her early forties with long black hair broke free from the crowd beside them and tapped Molly on the shoulder. ‘Are you doing the husky challenge by any chance?’
Molly and Joyce nodded.
‘Right then, my lovely,’ the woman said, hooking her hand through Joyce’s arm and ignoring the fearful teary-eyed look on Joyce’s face. ‘You needn’t worry. I’m Laura Carney and my girls here are going on the same challenge. Frankie, Harry.’ She waved and the group parted, all eyes suddenly on Molly and Joyce.
Molly watched the blonde twins bounce over with the same broad smile as Laura. ‘Hi,’ they chorused.
‘This girl here is doing the challenge too. She’s a bit upset, aren’t you, love?’ Laura patted Molly’s arm with her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding Joyce’s arm and forcing her mum to remain upright and out of Molly’s reach. ‘I was just telling them that you’ll look out for …’
‘Molly,’ she mumbled. ‘It’s not me –’
‘Never mind, never mind,’ Laura said, cutting her off. ‘Let’s get you all through the gate now.’
Laura turned her eyes to Molly and winked. Up close, Molly could see the resemblance between Laura and her daughters. It wasn’t just the same bright skin and straight nose; it was the energy that seemed to radiate from them.
Molly stood for a moment, wanting to protest, wanting to tell this woman and the entire group with their patronizing smiles that she wasn’t the one upset; she was completely fine. It was her mum who needed the support. But watching Laura gripping Joyce’s arm, Molly realized this was her chance to go without a fuss.
‘Why don’t you and I go get a coffee?’ Laura said to Joyce. ‘The girls will