LITMIR.BIZ

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council meeting at the community centre. We’ve got less than a fortnight and Karen and Sue want to rally as many faces as possible to show the officials that there are people, like us, who really do value the place. The community ruddy values it.’ Mum stopped folding her cardigan, an expression of illumination warming her features. ‘You should come, sweetheart! We could do with someone there to suggest how to give the place a facelift on a budget. They do it all the time on the telly, everyone coming together and chipping in with a few pots of paint.’

      ‘Earleswicke community centre? Ma, the place doesn’t need a facelift, it needs an identity. Or a bulldozer.’

      Mum leant on the back of the dining-room chair opposite. ‘And where do you think the mother and toddler group is going to convene, young lady, once the council bulldozes it? Or the youth club kids, hmm? Where will they have to go? Or the Macmillan coffee mornings or flower-pressing night? Just because you don’t use the centre yourself any more, Amy, doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t be taking an interest in it.’

      ‘I am interested, Mum.’ I probably wasn’t that interested. ‘But the community needs to come together if they want to hang onto it. A handful of WI members aren’t going to cut it. Not unless you go smaller than a current bun.’ I swallowed my smile. She didn’t look impressed.

      ‘Just remember, Amy, you may have been off enjoying city living these last few years, but Earleswicke is still your community. There’ll be nothing for anyone here to do if they take the community centre. Well, they can go whistle. They’re not having it.’ I felt my eyes widen before falling back to the screen and that name again. The WI was supposed to keep Mum out of trouble. Give her some blue face paint and a kilt and she was about ripe to give Mel Gibson a run for his money.

      ‘If it’s not viable, Mum, it’s not viable. Buildings cost money to run,’ I said, reviewing the figures for Bywater’s building on screen. The numbers did look a little offensive, but that was the point. There was no way he was going to ask me to work on the mill, not at these fees. Good. It wasn’t like I didn’t have enough on my plate at work.

      Mum huffed wearily. ‘The council absolutely has the money to run the community centre, Amy.’

      ‘So? What’s their issue, then?’ I asked, copying Bywater’s email address from the papers on the table next to me.

      ‘What do you think? What is always the issue, the stingy swines?’ Vivian asked.

      I gave up concentrating on my task until Braveheart got through with her rabble-rousing. ‘They can get more money for it if they just get rid?’

      ‘Bingo. They’ll flatten it, and build a car park, or a ruddy pole-dancing club.’

      ‘Probably,’ I agreed absently ‘Although on the bright side, it’d give you somewhere more lively to hold your WI meetings.’

      ‘You could at least pretend to be interested, Amy. It would be different if it were your gym that was about to close down. You practically live at the place, you’d have something to say then.’

      ‘Not any more,’ I reminded myself. James had killed that one for me. I sucked in a deep breath and sank back against the hard dining chair. ‘I’ve got to get through these emails, Mum,’ I said, nodding at the screen between us.

      She took the hint. ‘Right then, I’ll leave you to it. Would you like a nice slice of this key lime pie Sue’s sent back for you?’

      I rubbed a new tension from the side of my head. Did everyone know about my failed personal life? ‘Not until I’m back at the gym.’

      A run-down of all the meals Mum had watched me eat since I’d been staying here flashed through my mind like some sick calorific version of The Generation Game. No gym meant I was going to have to start jogging. I hated jogging. Mum lingered in the doorway. ‘You know, you don’t need to be so controlled all of the time, sweetheart. It’s okay to loosen the reins from time to time.’ I smiled to pacify her. It was quicker than going into the finer details of my fitness regime and the reasons for it. Mum had gained a little after her menopause, but she’d taken it all in her stride. What my mother constantly seemed to forget though, was that I wasn’t in my fifties yet. It probably wasn’t the best idea I’d had at the time, but I’d immersed myself in the horror stories, endless forum threads, post after post about the average weight gain in that first year after surgery. Twenty to thirty pounds, I’d read. Twenty to thirty pounds.

      ‘Have you thought any more about how long you’re planning on staying, Amy?’

      I shook my head.

      ‘You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish, darling, and I’ll support you in whatever you choose. But it would be good to know what your plans are.’

      ‘My plans aren’t really working out at the minute. But I’ll let you know if any light bulbs appear over my head.’

      ‘I know, sweetheart. I’m just worried about you. I’ve been quite excited about having a new grandchild, too, you know. If that’s not going to happen, I’d like to know, Amy.’

      I was suddenly tempted to go and comfort myself with a huge wedge of Sue Shackleton’s key lime pie. Mum had only been home two minutes and I was already in need of a sugar rush. I began pretending to tap out the email to accompany Bywater’s fee proposal, in hopes my bad influence would finally take her cue and bugger off.

      Dear Mr Bywater,

      Please find attached quote. Hopefully, by the time you receive this email, you’ll have done yourself a real injury, and will no longer be in need of our assistance.

      I ran back through the text. I wish. I sunk my finger into the delete key and watched the words disappear again. Mum hadn’t moved. I tapped away.

      Dear Mr Bywater,

      Work for you? I’d rather pull my own eyelids off.

      I deleted it again and sneaked a glance at Mum. She was thinking about leaving me to it, I could tell. Third time lucky.

      Bywater,

      I’d love to see someone kick your arse with your own peg leg.

      I bit at the smile forming on my bottom lip and squinted at his name again.

      Mum had just skulked off into the hallway when the doorbell suddenly echoed to life. She always locked the door after nine, Guy was probably trying to get in after driving a sleepless Harry around. I listened for the sound of their voices. Then I heard him, asking like some vampire to be invited in.

      Mum began dithering in the hallway over her choices. I held my finger on the delete button and cleared my throat. ‘It’s okay, Mum. He can come in,’ I said, apprehensively rising to my feet. James was still in his suit when he appeared in the dining-room doorway, one hand in his pocket, the other fidgeting around his keys. I watched him pull that vulnerable dip of his head, glancing up with uncertain cherubic blue eyes. It didn’t have the same effect it used to.

      ‘Can I come in?’

      I took a few steps backwards and leant against the radiator on the wall there. James took it as invitation.

      ‘Can we talk?’ he said softly. ‘Please? Somewhere … private?’

      I slid my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. ‘Where would you suggest, James? You know all the best spots for privacy. We could go to the gym, or the boardroom, if you like?’ I couldn’t help myself. This was the stuff we didn’t have time to hack our way through on our fast-track to relationship recovery, but I just couldn’t help it.

      James looked up at the ceiling and sighed. ‘Please, Ame. Let’s not do this again. I want to make it right. I love you. You know I do.’

      ‘And have you informed Sadie of that too, James? Or are you keeping that option open?’ James closed the dining-room doors behind him.

      ‘Sadie’s

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