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like she hadn’t even read it.’

      A curious look appeared on Molly’s face. ‘Then what?’

      ‘I told her I was going back to England. All she said was, “You do what you need to do.” I could see it troubled her, the colour drained from her face and there were tears in her eyes, but she just stared at her hands which were visibly shaking. It upset me to see her that way.’

      ‘Does she know when you’re leaving?’

      I nodded, ‘Yes, I told her. She stood up and disappeared into her bedroom for a while and I could hear banging about. Then she reappeared clutching a small blue book.’

      ‘What was it?’

      ‘A bank book …’ I took a breath. ‘She told me that ever since I was a little girl, Grandie had been putting money into a savings account for me. She’d no idea if he still did it, as the book couldn’t be updated, but once I’m back in England I can check at the bank and withdraw the money.’

      ‘How much is in it?’ Molly enquired with a questioning look.

      ‘Five thousand pounds, but that was the amount thirteen years ago.’

      I’d been astounded when I’d opened up the book. I’d no idea that Grandie had been saving for me. Mum claimed she hadn’t mentioned it before because, after her falling-out with Grandie, she hadn’t wanted to take anything from him. She was uncertain how to withdraw the money with only the old-fashioned bank book, but now I was returning it should be easy to sort out. The money was mine and all I would need was my birth certificate and driving licence to prove my identity.

      Molly gave a low whistle, ‘That’s an unexpected surprise.’

      I nodded. ‘To be honest, it couldn’t have come at a better time. And it means I don’t have to put my flight on a credit card. You know how those things frighten me, and the interest soon mounts up.’

      ‘Yes,’ Molly agreed, ‘but with this money you can pay it off as soon as possible and have enough left for your flight home.’

      ‘Absolutely,’ I smiled at her. ‘I even asked Mum to come with me, but she just shook her head.’

      ‘Did you attempt to change her mind?’

      ‘Of course, I tried, but she just wouldn’t discuss it. She told me to leave it, repeated that I had to do what I had to do, then stood up and started folding the washing again in a kind of trance. It was like I’d never said anything in the first place.’

      After telling Mum it had felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but I was worried about her. She looked fraught, her shoulders were slumped and now it seemed like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. I knew I couldn’t push the conversation any more but one day I was determined to uncover the secret that had driven us from England.

      ‘It must have been one hell of a disagreement,’ Molly probed.

      ‘It was, and there’s only two people who know the truth, and that’s Mum and Grandie. Mum isn’t talking – she never has – but I can see she is hurting. She must miss him too.’

      ‘It’ll be pride.’

      ‘Stubborn pride. How can you let things slide so badly?’

      ‘I’m not sure, but there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, there’s nothing as funny as folk or family disagreements.’

      I knew the argument I’d witnessed had been heated and had split the family up but the whole situation still puzzled me. We’d had a good life at the farm, everything had been peaceful and calm and we’d both had a relationship to treasure with Grandie, up until that day.

      In New York, Mum had done a variety of jobs, just like me. Mostly jobs she detested, with unsociable hours, but she made enough money to put food on the table. On the surface, she put on a front for everyone, but underneath I knew she was sad and had lost the zest for life she once had in England.

      There she’d been a respected dance teacher, working in the family business. Each year she’d choreographed the village show and the local children and elderly had flocked to her lessons, enjoying every second of them. She must miss her life back in England. If only I could turn back time to the day before the argument, both our lives might have panned out differently.

      I managed a weak nod. ‘What if he dies Mol, and she hasn’t put things right?’ A tear slipped down my cheek just thinking about it. ‘Surely she wouldn’t be able to live with herself?’

      Molly jumped up from the chair and immediately wrapped her arms around me with a hug. ‘You can’t beat yourself up over that, that’s her decision. You’ve asked her to go back with you and she’s said no. What more can you do? It’s her choice. You’re doing the right thing, doing what you need to do. That’s all that matters,’ she reassured me, but it still didn’t stop me from feeling anxious leaving Mum behind. I wanted her to come with me.

      ‘I’m going to miss you, Molly.’

      ‘Don’t go all soppy on me, you’ll have me crying,’ she insisted, trying to keep her voice steady.

      ‘Hey you two, no time for tears in my bar.’

      Our eyes slid towards Jay who’d appeared at the side of our table. ‘And your glasses appear to be empty,’ he grinned, slipping another two flutes of fizzy prosecco cocktail down in front of us and picking up the empty ones before balancing them on his tray.

      ‘You know what Jay, you are the best barman in the city,’ Molly tipped him a wink.

      ‘Thanks Jay, you’re a superstar,’ I added with a watery smile.

      ‘Do get I a hug, Ms Poppins, before you go?’

      ‘You certainly do,’ I replied, standing up without any hesitation.

      Jay hugged me tight. ‘Hurry back soon, it’s not only Molly who will miss you.’

      ‘Make sure you look after her while I’m away.’

      I tipped my head towards Molly who blinked away her tears.

      ‘Without a doubt,’ he answered, flinging his arms open wider. ‘Come on, group hug. And when you get back, I’ll take my two favourite ladies out for a night on the town.’

      ‘That’s worth coming back for,’ I smiled at them both, trying to put on a brave face through my tears but knowing it was unlikely I’d be back any day soon.

       Chapter 3

      I lay on top of my bed with my laptop open and scrolled through my messages. There was nothing of much interest except a few audition emails, notifications of upcoming Broadway Shows which I’d subscribed to. I sighed then hit the unsubscribe button. What was the point in torturing myself, reading those emails? After all, they only ever resulted in yet another rejection letter.

      Logging on to Facebook, I clicked on Grace’s profile which was a portfolio of success compared to my own disappointing timeline. Currently, she was starring in the musical Mamma Mia in the city of Birmingham. I’d followed her career over the last few years and marvelled at how well she was doing. She was living the dream – our dream – the dream we’d had as small children, two best friends. Of course, I was happy for her, but a part of me felt envious of the roles she’d played and what she’d achieved.

      I noticed Grace had uploaded an album of photographs, herself and the cast from her latest production enjoying a night out. She looked stunning, her long russet wavy hair bounced on top of her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled. The Cath Kidston floral dress she wore with her vintage-stitch scallop-edge cardigan looked like something straight out of a fashion magazine. She was standing alongside different groups of people in the various photos, drink in hand and always wearing a perfect smile. I casually

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