‘Yes, of course we do.’ Fiona squeezes Mum’s hand.
After we’ve finished our tea, Mum goes upstairs to the bathroom and I make a start on rinsing the plates and loading the dishwasher.
‘That’s good of you to offer to open up the café,’ says Fiona. ‘I seem to remember you saying something along the lines of never wanting to step foot in that greasy spoon again.’ There is no malice in Fiona’s words and we exchange a wry smile.
‘I’m only doing it for Mum. One less thing for her to worry about.’ I scrub at the saucepan to remove some of the mashed potato that has already hardened around the edges
‘When do you have to go back to London?’ asks Fiona.
‘I’m not sure. Ed has shuffled the staff rota around, but I don’t know how long he can do that for. I don’t want to stay here longer than necessary.’
‘It’s not that bad here,’ says Fiona, cleaning the work surfaces with anti-bacterial wipes. ‘I came back and, if I’m totally honest, I’m glad I did.’
I pause from rinsing the saucepan. ‘It was different for you, though,’ I say eventually. ‘You liked it here. You had lots of friends. You had Sean and Sophie. And since then, Molly. I have nothing and no one to come back for. You came back to happiness, I’ll come back to misery.’
‘That’s not strictly true,’ says Fiona. ‘You have your family to come back to.’
‘It’s not that easy.’
‘Things do change. People change.’ Fiona drops the used wipe into the bin. She comes and stands beside me and brushes a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear. ‘We miss you.’
‘I know. I miss you and the kids too. And Mum.’ I study the bottom of the pan as I tamp down the unchecked emotion churning in my stomach. Confident I have it under control, I look up at Fiona. ‘Just meeting Jody Wright again and the mention of the Marshalls is bad enough. And then I bumped straight into them.’
‘Oh no, did you?’ Fiona’s face creases into a wince. ‘Did you speak to them?’
‘Didn’t have much choice. They were parked right next to me. I just explained about Dad.’
‘Are you okay?’ There’s real concern in Fiona’s voice.
‘I’ll be fine,’ I say, as much to convince myself as my sister.
‘There’s something you’re not telling me,’ says Fiona.
I should have known it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from her. She has always had this uncanny knack of being able to read my moods, my body language, or whatever it was.
‘Erin! Erin, your phone’s ringing!’ Mum’s voice comes from the hallway.
‘It’s okay,’ I call back, about to add that I’ll leave it to go to voicemail, when Mum appears in the kitchen carrying my handbag. I dry my hands and take the bag, but by the time I’ve fished around for the phone, it has stopped ringing. I check the screen. ‘It was only Ed. I’ll phone him later.’
‘Are you ready, Fiona?’ asks Mum. ‘I want to get back up to the hospital before it gets too late.’
‘Sure,’ says Fiona. ‘Have you got your coat?’ She turns to me. ‘We’ll chat tomorrow. It will be okay, whatever it is. Trust me, I’m your big sister.’ She gives me a brief hug before ushering Mum out to the hall to find their coats.
Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to believe her. She’s never let me down in the past, but this…this thing with Roisin, well, it’s bigger than anything either of us have had to face before. Certainly since I left Rossway as a teenager. For the first time in my life, I have doubts about Fiona’s ability to make things right.
Chapter 6
Normally at six in the morning, I would be going for my morning run or sweating it out in the gym. Today, however, I’m standing inside the doorway of Seahorse Café wondering if I’ve stepped back in time. Nothing has changed since I walked away as a sixteen-year-old.
The easy-wipe Formica tables with their padded bench seats are lined up and down the café in three uniform rows of four. Each table is set the same as it has always been. I remember cleaning the tables every night and arranging the red and brown sauce bottles to stand behind the salt and pepper with the plastic menu slotted between to keep it upright.
The counter at the rear of the café looks the same too. A cold cabinet for cakes to one side and the cutlery and napkins to the other, next to a small selection of crisps and biscuits. Behind the counter is the tea and coffee making machine, together with a fridge for the milk and cold drinks. Through the serving hatch where the orders are pushed, I can see the stainless-steel kitchen equipment, all exactly as I remember.