‘What’s that thing called?’

‘Mum, I have no idea what you mean.’ Ashley rubbed at her temples, phone clamped to her ear.

‘You know… lots of people pay for the thing you need and you promise them something in return… Jane’s daughter did it to make that short film…’

‘Crowdfunding?’

‘That’s the one. Why can’t you do that?’

‘What on earth can we offer in return? It’s not like Molly will have something to give people when they donate. At least, not for years.’

‘Do you have to give something to them?’

‘I’m pretty sure that’s the way it works.’

There was a sigh from the other end of the line. ‘Why won’t you let Maurice help? You’d save all this worry and trouble if you’d just let him help, and he wants to.’

‘I can’t—’

‘He thinks of you as family now and he’s happy to give you the money; at least let him pay for the first year so you have more time to find the rest. When you can manage it, if you really feel terrible about it, you can pay him back, though he won’t miss the money, so I’m quite sure he wouldn’t nag about it.’

‘Whether he misses the money is not the issue, Mum. I’ve never wanted handouts to bring Molly up and I’m not about to start taking them now.’

‘It’s not a handout – it’s an investment in Molly’s future. And you can’t keep punishing yourself for a mistake you think you made all those years ago by refusing every scrap of help from everyone. If anyone was to blame for what happened it’s that boy, the one you met on that stupid holiday… But that’s all water under the bridge now. Molly is my granddaughter and don’t you think I want to see her do well? She’s got this wonderful talent – and I don’t have a clue where she got her musical ability from because the rest of us are tone-deaf – and why shouldn’t she have the best chance to show the world what she can do?’

‘I’m not taking Maurice’s money.’

‘Would you take it if it were mine?’

‘But I know it wouldn’t be yours because you don’t have that much cash.’

‘How do you know?’ Sue squeaked indignantly. Ashley, despite the nature of the conversation, had to hold in a laugh.

‘Because I grew up with you, don’t forget. We’ve never been rich enough to pay for things like music-school fees.’

‘We never needed to before. Maybe we’d have found the money if we’d needed to.’

‘Mum, I know it’s Maurice’s money you’re offering, and that’s why I’m saying no. And I’m going to say no every time you bring it up so you might as well stop. I understand why Molly phoned you with this, but I wish she hadn’t because I haven’t even had a chance to see if I can reach a solution yet without involving everyone else.’

‘So what are you going to do? Last month you couldn’t afford the new brakes on the car…’

‘I’ll think of something… Maybe I’ll call the building society about remortgaging the house.’

‘No!’

‘Why not? It seems the simplest and cheapest way.’

‘It’s a one-way ticket to disaster!’

Ashley sniffed. ‘Lots of people do it.’

‘And lots of people get into trouble doing it. More debt is not the answer.’

‘It’s the only answer I have.’

‘I’ve told you—’

‘I know,’ Ashley cut in. ‘And I’ve told you that I just can’t take Maurice’s money.’

‘Bloody stubborn. Proud and pig-headed…’

‘I wonder where I get that from.’

There was a another sigh on the line, but Ashley could hear the exasperated smile in it.

‘Don’t be angry,’ she said. ‘I know you and Maurice mean well but I can’t be indebted… not to anyone. Me and Moll, we’ll make our own way in the world or not at all.’

‘I’m not sure Molly agrees with you on that. And what’s the point in being so noble about it when there’s a simple solution that would give everyone the outcome they want? I wish you’d swallow this stupid, stubborn pride, just once, and let people help.’

Ashley paused, her gaze wandering to the ceiling. Upstairs, Molly was in her room, probably having to talk herself into a future that she didn’t want, a plan B that she’d have to make the best of but one that was a million miles away from the plan A she’d dreamed of.

‘I’ll give it some thought,’ she said finally.

‘I’m not going to let it drop, so don’t think you can say that and I’ll conveniently forget about it.’

‘I would never suggest such a thing,’ Ashley replied with a wry smile.

‘There was something else I wanted to talk to you about while I have you on the phone,’ her mum added.

‘Go on.’

‘Now I don’t want you to start telling me how you can’t afford it…’

‘Mum!’

‘OK, Maurice’s aunt Violette has a big birthday coming up and the whole family – I mean the whole family – are going to be there. That means he’d like us to go.’

‘But we’re not really family—’

‘As far as Maurice is concerned we are. He couldn’t have children with his first wife, and he’s very fond of you and Molly; you’re as close to a daughter and granddaughter as he has, you know that.’

‘I know, but—’

‘Please. I know you’re absolutely fixated on this idea that you have to pay your own way, and I know you won’t be able to afford this, but it’s not fair to Maurice to turn us down flat. For once, put your pride to one side and think about the greater good. Yes, it will mean someone has to help you to pay for your travel down to the South of France, but it also means that you’ll make Maurice, his aunt and the whole family very happy by being there.’

‘Is it really such a big deal?’

‘She’s a hundred. I’d say that’s a pretty big deal. Let’s be honest, she may well never see another birthday beyond this, and that’s why they’re making such a big fuss. Besides, you’ve never seen Maurice’s home in Saint-Raphaël… it’s beautiful. And surely Molly deserves to see it even if you don’t feel you do?’

Ashley stared at her slippered feet. She supposed it would go some way to making up to Molly for all the disappointment she’d had to endure of late. And it was certainly a lot less expensive than two years of fees for a prestigious music school. Neither could she argue with her mother’s assertions that a centenary was a pretty big occasion in anyone’s book. So when you looked at it that way it seemed only fair to make an effort to go.

‘OK, Mum, but here’s the deal – Molly and I are travelling separately and we’re doing it on a budget. And when I get some money I’m paying you back for anything I might need to borrow. And no swanky hotels, so don’t even think about trying to book one on the sly for us – we’ll make do with a hostel somewhere.’

‘I don’t know where you get your stinginess from.’

‘I’m not stingy, I’m frugal – I have to be.’

‘You don’t have to be anything…’ Sue let out a sigh. ‘We’ll be staying with Maurice’s aunt, anyway, and her house is huge. I expect she’ll have room for two more small ones.’

‘I’d feel bad about putting her out.’

‘I don’t think for a minute she’ll be put out, and she does so want everyone there. Maurice can ask her, but I don’t expect there’ll be any problems.’

‘As long as it’s no bother and people aren’t just pretending we’re not under their feet.’

‘That means you’ll come?’

‘When is it? I’ve got to check the holiday list at work and clear it with my boss.’

‘Next month. I’ll ping over the dates we’re travelling when Maurice finalises them. As for travelling separately you might as well come with us as Maurice is planning to drive down to the South of France and there’s room in the car. It will save all of us a lot of money.’

‘A road trip? Through France?’ Ashley stifled a grin. She’d told her mum that she was only going to this party to make Maurice happy but already she could feel the sun on her face, smell the lavender as they drove through a rolling purple landscape, taste the fresh croissants and seafood. She hadn’t chosen this trip, and she hated the fact that it would set her back financially, but she couldn’t deny that she was more ready for a holiday than she’d ever been. The last time she’d been away with Molly was a soggy week in a caravan in Bognor Regis where Molly had mostly sat messaging friends on her phone and Ashley had been forced to work her way through the extensive but very crappy library that the caravan owners had left in a cupboard for their guests. She’d hardly returned feeling rested, and since then, whenever a UK holiday was mentioned again, Molly had looked horrified at the prospect.

‘We might as well make it one,’ Sue said. ‘Go on, tell me you’re not a teensy bit excited…’

‘Don’t be daft. And remember that I can’t say yes until I’ve checked with work.’

‘But if it’s OK with them then it’s OK with you?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Brilliant!’ Sue squeaked. ‘Maurice will be thrilled!’

Haydon gritted his teeth and swallowed the urge to swear. The last thing he needed was to send Ella home with reports of a foul-mouthed and impatient father when he really ought to be making the very best impression. He needed to keep Janine onside if he was going to persuade her that moving to London was a bad idea for the future of his relationship with Ella and for Ella’s experience of a fractured household.

The van ahead inched forward and then the angry red of its brake lights pierced the rain on the windscreen.

‘Seriously,’ Haydon muttered, ‘what’s the bloody hold-up?’

‘Will you be late, Dad?’

He forced a smile for Ella, sitting beside him with one earphone in, the other hanging down her chest. Not for the first time he marvelled that the volume of the music coming from the unoccupied earphone wasn’t causing blood to come from her nose, though he knew better than to say so. He’d done that once before and the look she’d given him almost shrivelled him on the spot. It was classical music – Rachmaninoff, perhaps, though he couldn’t quite place it – and he supposed that at least it was something cultured.

‘You’re learning to play that piece?’ he asked.

Ella nodded.

‘I could help.’

‘Yeah, but you don’t play piano.’

‘I could help with the basics.’

‘I don’t think they’d be the same.’

Haydon turned his attention back to the road. The car inched forward again before juddering to another halt as the rain slammed into the windscreen. He turned up the heaters to combat the mist that was now joining it to seriously hamper his view of the road – or rather traffic – ahead.

‘What time do you have to get to your student?’ Ella asked.

‘Are you worried I might not make it?’

‘Worried for you, Dad. I know you get stressed about it.’

‘You’re too young to be worrying about my stress. You’ve plenty of years ahead to worry about things – enjoy the lack of a need to worry about things now while you can.’

‘But what time?’

‘I’ve got an hour,’ he lied. ‘Don’t panic. Besides, the lad’s so bloody bad if he had a lesson every day for the next fifty years he’d still make his cello sound like a wardrobe being scraped across a giant blackboard.’

Ella giggled. ‘You must hate teaching him,’ she said.

‘A little. I wish you’d taken up the cello.’

‘I prefer piano.’

‘I know. But it would have been nice to teach you.’

‘Sorry, Dad.’

‘God, don’t be sorry – I didn’t mean anything by it. I love that you play the piano, and you’re very talented. I only meant that you’d have made a fantastic cello student too.’

‘Maybe one day I’ll learn that too.’

‘Maybe you will,’ he said. ‘And I’ll be there for lessons if you ever decide to.’ As the traffic crawled forward another inch he stifled a groan at the sight of the brake lights glowing in front again.

‘You’re going to be late, aren’t you?’ Ella raised her eyebrows.

‘Perhaps a little.’

‘Are you still going to talk to Mum when you drop me off?’

‘I need to, but I don’t know if I’ll have time. Maybe you could tell her that I need a chat and she could call me later?’

‘Yeah, I can do that.’

Haydon nodded. Janine wouldn’t call him even if Ella asked; she was stubborn like that. She’d probably guess what it was about, and she wouldn’t appreciate Haydon’s desire to open up a debate on the possibility that they might move to London with Kevin, even if it did need to happen. She’d tell him it was none of his business, that he had no right to lecture, that he had no right to interfere in her life and perhaps, to a point, she’d be right. But he couldn’t bear the thought of Ella being so far away.

His thoughts were interrupted by Ella’s voice.

‘Dad… the traffic…’

Haydon shook himself and saw that the van in front had moved forward to leave a gap of at least ten yards.

‘Right…’ He yanked off the handbrake to move the car along. Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he held in another groan as he noted the time. He was almost certainly going to be late for his hopeless cello student, which meant he definitely couldn’t talk to Janine until he’d finished up there. He might be desperate to sort this out, but in the face of having to earn his keep, it would just have to wait.

---

‘Hey, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting… Danny in the study?’

Haydon stepped over the threshold. Ten minutes late wasn’t as bad as he’d feared, and his pupil’s dad, Bryn, wasn’t the complaining type. Besides, he suspected that Danny, the teenage boy he was there to teach, dreaded the weekly cello lesson almost as much as Haydon dreaded having to listen to him scratch away at his old instrument, so he was probably hoping that his teacher wasn’t going to turn up. Apparently it was Mum who was keen for her darling boy to play, though strangely, she never seemed to be around when it was practise time. Haydon hated that he was late, but there probably wouldn’t be too much harm done.

‘Aye, he’s ready and waiting. If you call watching YouTube videos ready and waiting.’

‘Are they videos about cello-playing?’

Bryn gave an easy grin. ‘Somehow I think not.’

‘I’ll go through and get started. I can tag an extra bit of time on the end to make up for being late.’

‘Aye, don’t bother yourself. Traffic, was it?’

‘Pig of a snarl-up on the dual carriageway into town.’

‘The roadworks won’t be helping. Or this rain.’

‘God, don’t I know it. It never seems to do anything but – and this is supposed to be summer. I can’t remember what the sun looks like right now.’

‘In need of a holiday, eh?’

Haydon hadn’t really thought about it until this exact moment, but perhaps that was just what he did need? He certainly felt life’s stresses more acutely these days. Impossible, though, with everything going on – bills to pay, an ex-wife to negotiate with and a daughter who might well need him more than ever before.

‘You could say that but fat chance of one any time soon.’

‘Well, that’s a shame, because I happen to have a cancellation for my place in Saint-Raphaël.’

‘Oh…’ Haydon remarked vaguely as he followed Bryn to the study where Danny was waiting to start his lesson. ‘Where’s that?’

‘South of France. Beautiful spot. It was booked out for the summer but the family due there at the end of the month have had to pull out. They paid their deposit and that’s non-refundable, so I could afford to let it go cheap if you were interested.’

Haydon hesitated, his hand resting on the knob of the study door. But then he shook his head.

‘Thanks, Bryn, but I don’t have time for a holiday. It was good of you to think of me, though.’

Bryn nodded. ‘If you change your mind, let me know. I’m putting it out to advert tomorrow, though, so be quick if you want it.’

Haydon smiled as he pushed open the door. Behind it slouched a gangly teen on an old sofa, staring into his phone, cello on its stand at the other end of the room. Haydon had to suppress a wry grin at the sight. Danny – as keen as always to get started.

The boy looked up at Haydon’s entrance, and Haydon was convinced that if he could have leapt from the nearest window and run, he would have. Instead, he pushed himself wearily from the sofa and went to retrieve his instrument. And Haydon had to sympathise – he sort of felt like that himself today.