The Secrets We Left Behind Read Free Page A

unusually
pale. Scott had had an olive complexion; he had long dark hair and he didn’t wear glasses, but there was something about this man that reminded me so much . . . The man half turned towards me
and for a moment I was unable to move. It was him; it was Scott and he was here in Sheffield. I couldn’t hear anything except a rushing in my ears; I couldn’t feel my own body. Then
someone touched my arm. ‘You all right, love? Here, come and sit down for a minute, don’t worry about your shopping, duck. We’ll sort that out.’ I wasn’t sure what she
meant at first, then I realised I’d actually dropped the shopping basket, and now I could see a shop assistant and another woman picking everything up as I was led, by an elderly lady, to the
chairs they put along the wall to be sat on by elderly ladies.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ Then I was sitting down and someone was offering me a glass of water. The old lady had her arm around me. ‘Do
you want us to phone anyone, duck? My daughter’s got her mobile if you—’
    ‘No, I’m all right now, but it’s very kind of you.’ I gulped the water and took my bags from the shop assistant. ‘Thank you. I felt a bit faint, that’s all
– didn’t have any breakfast.’
    I looked around for the man as I joined the queue for the checkout but there was no sign of him now. It couldn’t have been Scott, I told myself. Scott’s in New Zealand. He was
taller, anyway. And heavier; and he had long hair. But then, the last time I saw Scott was when Hannah was eight months old and that was over thirty years ago. Of course he’d look different
now; I looked different too. Back then, my hair was dyed red and I’d cut it short soon after Hannah was born because it was easier when I was looking after a baby all day. Now it was back to
its natural colour, not grey enough yet to warrant regular treatments, but not the rich, velvety brown it was when I first met Scott and Eve. I paid for the items in my basket and went out into the
street. I couldn’t think about present shopping now, so I’d have to pop back later. I started to make my way home, eyes darting around, scanning the crowd for a balding man in a big
dark coat. I felt raw and exposed and I was shivering so much that my teeth were chattering. As I waited for the bus, I remembered that Duncan had an early surgery today – it was only routine
vaccinations, mostly cats and dogs, so he’d probably be home by now and he’d wonder why I was back so soon. I could have said I had a migraine coming on, but I didn’t want to lie;
I’d never lied to Duncan, only about things that happened before.

CHAPTER TWO
    I was up early on Boxing Day morning and by seven o’clock I was showered, dressed, and in the kitchen making coffee and toast. Yesterday had been nice; Duncan cooked
– beef Wellington for himself, caramelised onion tart for me, followed by home-made chocolate truffle ice cream. Then we watched Christmas telly, drank port and ate mince pies. It was a good
day, and I was touched at the trouble he’d taken to make it feel festive. But today was the real deal; the proper Christmas.
    I ate my toast standing up and drank my coffee as I took things out of the fridge. There was a lot to do. I had to prepare the turkey crown for Duncan and Marcus, make apricot and parsley
stuffing and finish the cashew nut and almond loaf for Hannah and me.
    ‘Okay.’ Duncan came into the kitchen, hair still damp from the shower. ‘Give me a job.’
    ‘Peeling, please.’ I handed him the peeler and a carrier bag full of potatoes and parsnips, and he kissed my cheek before setting to work. ‘Cheer up,’ he said.
‘We’re going to have a lovely day.’
    I’d felt a bit down yesterday. I knew it was selfish of me, but I wanted them here, my daughter and grandson. ‘I don’t begrudge Marcus’s parents.’ I added cranberry
jelly and a pinch of ground cloves to the red cabbage and