Chapter Eighteen
When Piper got back to Aunt Connie’s, she was greeted by Buster jumping up at her legs and immediately rolling onto his back, his entirely body wriggling with joy.
‘Balcony!’ Connie yelled from the kitchen. ‘Before he pees!’
Piper grabbed the giddy dog around his middle and rushed across the room, holding him at arms’ length, before depositing him on the tiny balcony where he immediately let go, a small puddle spreading across the concrete.
‘Honestly, mate, keep it together,’ Piper said.
He scratched at the concrete a little before trotting back inside.
‘Nice,’ Piper said, looking down at the puddle. It was a good job her stomach had settled. But then she had Rob to thank for that.
‘Did you have a good time?’ Connie said, coming through to the living room.
Piper closed one of the balcony doors and turned to look at her aunt, who was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but with an apron over the top.
‘I did, thanks,’ Piper said.
‘How’s your head this morning?’
Piper smiled. ‘Better than it was when I woke up.’
‘Have you had something to eat?’
‘Yes. Thanks. Rob made a cooked breakfast.’
‘Robbie Kingsford? I saw his mum in the bank the other day. What’s he doing now?’
Piper frowned. ‘He’s a teacher. At Rocklands.’
‘Oh yes,’ Connie said. ‘I think I knew that.’
‘He lives in one of those new flats on the prom.’
‘Does he?’ Connie gasped. ‘More money than sense then.’
‘It’s nice. He’s got a huge balcony looking out over the river.’
‘I’ve got a balcony,’ Connie said, pointing. ‘It might be covered in dog wee right now, but it’s nice to sit out of an evening.’
Piper smiled. ‘It’s lovely. The whole flat’s lovely.’
‘And I didn’t pay over the odds for it either. Tea?’
‘Please,’ Piper said. She sat down on the sofa and Buster immediately jumped up on her lap and turned around a couple of times before flopping down, hot belly over Piper’s thighs.
Connie brought the tea through and then went into her bedroom for another box. Piper’s heart sank. She loved the ring Connie had given her, had been wearing it every day, but she knew Connie had some of her parents’ stuff to show her and she wasn’t sure she was ready for that. In fact, she was sure she wasn’t ready.
‘Now I know this is hard for you,’ Connie said, lifting out a photo album, ‘but it’s been eight years. And I’m not going to be here forever. I would hate to think something might happen to me and all these things would be lost.’
Piper shook her head. She couldn’t look at the photos – there was no way.
‘You don’t have to look at them now,’ Connie said. ‘But take this home with you and look at them when you’re ready. But don’t leave it too long, eh?’
‘Okay,’ Piper said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
‘There’s these too.’ Connie handed her two small notebooks. Piper took them and then realised they were address books.
‘Your dad’s Little Black Book there!’ Connie said, laughing.
Piper held her dad’s book, which actually was black, up to her nose. She didn’t really expect it to smell anything like him and of course it didn’t, but she had to try. She opened it, but as soon as she saw his smooth round handwriting on the first page, she had to close it again. She wasn’t ready.
Her mum’s book was gold, the paper not dissimilar to fish scales – just holding it in her hand took her right back to sitting on the floor at her mum’s feet and fishing it out of her bag to look through. She suspected it may even contain pages she’d scribbled on. But she couldn’t look.
Her phone pinged with a message and she put the address books down next to her, on top of the photo album. When she got home she’d have to find somewhere to put them where she couldn’t see them, but where they’d be safe until she was ready.
‘Rob’s going to give me a lift to the station,’ she told her aunt.
‘New Brighton?’ She looked confused. New Brighton station was only a few minutes’ walk away.
‘No. Lime Street. He’s going to pick me up.’
‘He was always a lovely boy,’ Connie said.