I walk Betsy back to her house. I don’t give her room to object to the idea, but I’m still surprised she lets me. I try to think what Grandma would say, and I decide she wouldn’t say much at all – she’d leave Betsy room to talk. So as we make our slow way down Middling Lane in the rain, I just hold the umbrella and wait for Betsy to feel ready.

‘I suppose you’re thinking you know all about my situation, now,’ she says eventually, looking straight ahead.

‘No, not at all.’

‘Good. Because it’s – it’s complicated.’

‘I’m sure it is.’

I chew the inside of my cheek. Grandma would stay quiet. She’d leave it at that. But …

‘Nobody should ever be afraid in their own home. And if you want to leave him, Betsy, everyone here in this village will have your back. Every one of them.’

We reach Betsy’s house. She pauses in front of the gate – I’m supposed to leave, that much is clear, but I’d rather stay until I see she’s safely inside.

‘He’ll have calmed down by now,’ Betsy says, fiddling with the key. ‘Off you go, Leena, you can’t be hanging around here.’

‘You deserve better. And I’m not going to stop telling you that, no matter how many times you kick me out or tell me to stop hanging around,’ I say, with a little smile. ‘I’m always here.’

‘For less than a week,’ Betsy points out.

‘Oh, yes.’ I’d genuinely forgotten for a moment that I was leaving at all. ‘Well, after that you’ll switch back to having the right Eileen Cotton at Clearwater Cottage again,’ I say with a smile, but my stomach twists with something that feels a lot like sadness. ‘That’ll be even better.’

26

Eileen

Bu-bu-bu-BUH-BUH-bu-bu-bu goes Leena’s mobile phone on the café table.

‘Oh, fuck, every time you get a text I think I’m about to have a heart attack,’ Bee says, clutching her chest. ‘That is so loud.’

I intend to tell her off for swearing, but get distracted by my new message.

‘Who is it this time?’ Bee asks. ‘Old Country Boy or your sexy actor honey?’

‘It’s my old neighbour,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘He’s discovered cat videos and has been sending them my way for weeks.’

‘Oh, have you shown him the one where the cat pushes the child into the swimming pool?’ Bee asks, brightening. ‘Jaime and I watched that about six-hundred times.’

‘I see your daughter shares your dark sense of humour,’ I say, putting my phone down again. Arnold can wait. I need the gossip from Bee. ‘Well? How was your third date with Mike?’

Bee shakes her head incredulously. ‘It was good, Eileen. He’s … well, he’s a terrible dancer, he’s definitely richer and more successful than me, and he doesn’t even live in London, so he ticks almost zero of my boxes …’

‘What did he say when you told him about Jaime?’

Her face softens. Ooh, I know that look.

‘He said, “Tell me all about her.” We talked about Jaime for like forty-five minutes straight. He didn’t flinch or freak out or edge away, he listened.’

I smile. ‘Now, “good listener” may not have been on your list, but it was on mine.’

‘He was so helpful about setting up a business, too. He had loads of ideas, but in a really non-mansplainy way, you know?’

‘Not really, but good,’ I tell her. ‘Have you spoken to Leena about these new ideas?’

Bee makes a face. ‘I don’t want to push her – last time we spoke about B&L plans she said her confidence had taken such a knock after Carla died, she couldn’t really countenance it. I get it. I’m happy to wait until she’s ready.’

‘Mmm,’ I say, as the waiter brings our coffees.

Bee raises her eyebrows. ‘Go on. What is it you’re trying not to say?’

‘You’re just not usually a waiting-around sort of woman.’

Bee stirs the foam on the top of her coffee. ‘I am if Leena needs it,’ she says simply.

‘That’s very good of you,’ I say. ‘But even Leena needs a shove now and then. In fact, now more than ever. I’ve never heard her happier than when she’s talking about all those plans of yours, and it’s been sad, not hearing her mention them for so long. Maybe it’s just the thing she needs to keep her going.’

‘Maybe,’ Bee says, perking up a bit. ‘Maybe I’ll just … give her a little nudge again. I don’t want us to lose momentum. I do sometimes worry we’ll end up as Selmounters for ever.’

‘You don’t call yourselves that, do you? It sounds like the title of a smutty novel.’

‘Oh, Jesus, I wish you’d not said that,’ Bee says. ‘Now I’m going to think that every time the CEO says Selmounter. Selmounter. Oh, shit, you’re right, it does …’

*

That night I sit beside Fitz at the breakfast counter and sift through the replies I’ve had about the Silver Shoreditchers’ Social Club. So far five people have asked for transport to come to the grand opening, and there are seven others who have said they’ll confirm nearer the time, plus a handful who sounded interested. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but it does feel rather exciting.

Every so often I check whether Howard’s available on the chat page. His ideas for our website sound wonderful – his grand plan is that we’ll use it for fundraising. I’m keeping it a surprise for now, but I already can’t wait to show Fitz when it’s done. The only downside is that Howard says he needs a little money to get things off the ground. He says he’ll likely double it with fundraising within the week, so I’ll get it back and more in no time, and it certainly still sounds like the website is worth doing. I’m just waiting to hear how much money he needs.

As I work my way through all my messages, I land on my conversation with Arnold, a series of cat videos interspersed with the odd bits and pieces about Hamleigh and the garden. I pause on his name, then on a whim I click to go to his profile.

There’s some writing there now, as well as the picture. My name is Arnold Macintyre, and I’m turning over a new leaf, says his About Me section. Is anyone out there doing the same? I’d love to chat to a like-minded soul …

I rub my neck. I wonder if anyone has responded to Arnold’s question. Is there a like-minded lady out there, chatting to him about turning over a new leaf? It hadn’t really occurred to me that if Arnold’s talking to me on this website, he’s probably talking to other people, too.

I pause over the message button. There’s a green dot by Arnold’s name. It’s funny to think of him up there in Hamleigh, sitting at his computer.

EileenCotton79 says: Hello, Arnold. I’ve got to ask. What do you mean when you say you’re turning over a new leaf?

Arnold1234 says: Well, I felt a little inspired by you, actually.

EileenCotton79 says: Me???

Arnold1234 says: You’ve taken life by the horns again. I stopped doing that far too long ago. So now I’ve started again.