Return To Bluebell Hill. Rebecca Pugh
breezed into the cottage, humming a merry tune as she disappeared. Left alone, Jessica felt the old familiar feeling of being at home coming over her. Esme and her cottage were capable of that. They always had been. She closed her eyes momentarily and allowed the moment to wash over her, revelling in the sense of calm. Before following Esme inside, she freed her phone from her pocket and tapped out a quick text to Sarah.
‘Here now. It feels okay, not as bad I thought, although still a bit scary. Hope you’re okay. Will keep you updated. J x’
Her phone beeped almost instantly and she smiled as she opened the message and read it, imagining the words being read aloud in Sarah’s voice.
‘Missing you already. You can do this, I promise. Just think of those rugged men fanning us with giant palm leaves on a tropical beach. If that doesn’t help, then I’m here whenever you need me. S x’
Phone back in pocket, she made her way up the cobble-stones and into the cottage.
***
Over a bowl of steaming beef stew later that evening, Jessica curled up in one of the two armchairs that sat beside the crackling fireplace in her pyjamas and listened to Esme as she talked about her friend Jane who had recently fallen ill. It was clear that Esme was very fond of Jane. She hadn’t stopped talking about her since they’d sat down. Jessica guessed that Esme was trying to fill the space between them with chatter, avoiding the tricky subjects.
‘I’ve been popping in and out, making Jane baskets full of food to eat while she recuperates,’ Esme continued. ‘She’s a very close friend of mine and such a lovely old dear, but she’s so lonely. Her husband, Rupert, passed away a couple of years ago, and since then, she’s been steadily going downhill.’ Esme frowned. ‘I think me visiting her is probably the only thing that she has to look forward to. Oh, but we do have a good old natter when we’re together and I enjoy the company myself. I’m just grateful to have a friend.’ Esme dipped a slice of bread into her stew and stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace as she ate, lost in her thoughts and memories.
‘She’s lucky to have you, and you her,’ Jessica commented as she finished off her own bowl of stew. It was one of the truest things she had ever said. Since she could remember, Esme had always been one of the kindest, most genuine women she’d ever met. She had a heart of a gold, arms that were made for carrying children to bed when they’d long since fallen asleep and a face that could make you spill all of your secrets. She was trustworthy and honest, too. Some of the best traits a person could have.
‘Did you still speak to my parents once I left?’ Jessica blurted out once the silence had stretched on for too long. She’d been dying to ask the question. She had to know, and they needed to address the subject.
‘I did.’ Esme nodded slowly. ‘Only very rarely, though. I popped up to Bluebell House every now and again but a lot of the time they were out at work. Sometimes I’d stroll up there and look at the house, remembering my days spent there. Thinking of you. Probably would have looked like a crazy woman if anyone had ever seen me standing there like that but I have an old, sentimental heart and it likes to return to the past sometimes.’
‘That night, once I’d left for London, what happened afterwards?’ Jessica sat up a little straighter and moved closer towards Esme. She was eager to hear the answer to her question. She’d always wondered about it, whenever she’d allowed herself to think about all that had happened back then. She placed her bowl onto the floor beside the armchair. ‘What did they say to you when they realised I wasn’t there? Did they want to know where I had gone? Did they seem bothered? I mean, I’d been expecting them to come and drag me right back but... I heard nothing, Esme. I gave up in the end. On hoping to hear from them, I mean. I felt stupid. I suppose I’d hoped for some attention from them for once in my life, but it was pointless for me to want that, wasn’t it? What did they say to you, Esme? Anything?’ She could hear the desperation in her voice. She didn’t like the sound of it but she couldn’t help it.
Esme clasped her hands together in her lap as if preparing herself for the conversation. ‘When I returned from the station on the night you left, Bluebell House was empty, as it so often was. They were both still working at the hospital so I waited until gone midnight for them to return. When they eventually did, I told them that I needed to have a word in the kitchen. I explained that you’d left, and then passed on the letter that you’d written. They read it together and afterwards, they asked if I had a number to reach you on. I told them that I did, but I’d been told by you that you didn’t want to hear from them. That you were starting fresh, somewhere new. They were beside themselves with worry but I managed to reassure them that you’d find your way and you’d be okay. You had a good head on your shoulders and you didn’t want to be cooped up in Bluebell Hill forever. You wanted to see the rest of the world and begin your own adventure. I told them how you felt, but left the letter to explain everything else. They did care, Jessica. I promise you, they did. They cried that night, kept saying that they’d done it all wrong, that they’d have done it all different if they’d have had the chance. But you’d already gone.’
Jessica nodded. ‘I forgot I’d said that, about not wanting them to contact me.’ She felt a sharp stab of pain in her chest as she wondered whether they would have got in touch if she’d allowed them to. But they’d listened to her and obeyed her orders to not contact her. Perhaps they’d seen that and taken it as their chance to finally do something right when it came to their daughter. ‘It was so messy wasn’t it?’ she murmured quietly, remembering the hurt and pain, the emotions that had turned her against her parents towards the end. ‘I was so angry, so frustrated with them.’ Her hands clenched at the memory of it. She was older now, and wiser, she hoped. Still, her childhood would never be looked upon with fond memories and that would always be a bitter pill to swallow. Most people remembered summer holidays and BBQs, but she remembered wishing it was her parents who had collected her when the school day had finished rather than Esme.
‘I tried to phone the number that you left a few days later, Jessica,’ Esme said quietly. ‘I was worrying about you but when I dialled the number it cut off and said that it was no longer in service.’ Esme’s eyes glittered with tears as she turned to her. ‘You changed your number, didn’t you?’
Jessica swallowed as it all began to come back to her. It was as if she’d unconsciously locked all of those memories away into a box and only now were they beginning to resurface. ‘I did,’ she whispered. How could she have forgotten that? She’d snapped her sim card into two and chucked it away. She’d seen it as the first step to cutting herself off completely from her previous life. ‘I’m sorry, Esme. I truly am.’ She lowered her eyes. How could she have done that to Esme? She’d treated the woman awfully. She knew that no matter how much she tried to dress the hurtful truth up with her explanations and excuses, she’d still hurt Esme more than she’d known. She realised that now.
Neither of them spoke or moved until Esme’s hand reached across the small gap between the two armchairs and clasped Jessica’s. She gave it a tight, comforting squeeze. She’d always looked upon her as a daughter rather than a child who she’d been hired to look after. ‘You’re here now, Jessica. Perhaps a few years late but you’re here, and that’s all that matters, my dear. That’s all that has ever mattered to me.’
On the morning of her parents’ funeral, Jessica dressed slowly. She could hear Esme pottering about in the kitchen below but didn’t feel ready to go downstairs and face the day ahead. She wasn’t quite sure what was expected of her, of how to react or whether she was supposed to cry or remain passive-faced. It was such a weird situation and she felt so emotionally abnormal.
She tugged her hair up into a ponytail and stared at herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers.
The churning, twisting feeling that had appeared after the very first phone call with Esme returned to her as she studied her reflection warily.