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“Then maybe Alli will realize that,” Liz said. “Maybe she was just angry and she’ll come to her senses and come crawling back. Because you were just doing your job. The way I see it, it doesn’t look like you had much choice. If she doesn’t come back, well, then it wasn’t meant to be.”

It made sense. Sort of. But there was something growing inside Bea, some certainty, some sense of something that she couldn’t quite put into words.

“You can’t let her walk all over you, though,” Liz said now.

Bea laughed bitterly. “She’s the one person who hasn’t. And besides, that’s over now. I’m going to stand up for myself more, get more of what I want out of life.” She looked over at Liz, who looked disbelieving. “I got my bedroom back from Marilyn and Robbie,” she said, as proof. “And told Marilyn that they need to move out.”

Liz looked suitably impressed. “What brought all that on?”

Bea thought back. “Alli,” she admitted. “She’s taught me a little something about making my voice heard, about taking care of myself because no one else will and no one else should have to.”

“Seems like a sensible way of looking at life.”

“I can’t go on the way I am. The way I was,” said Bea. “I’m over thirty. I’m living with my ex and the woman he cheated on me with. I don’t have a real job. I need to start living for me, not for someone else, not just to make other people happy.”

“I agree,” Liz said. “It seems like a healthy change. And sometimes people come into our lives just to teach us lessons like that.”

“And then they leave,” Bea said, her heart crumpling again, tears threatening again. She was thinking about the way Alli held her, the softness of her. She was thinking that she missed her, even now.

“She might come back,” said Liz, reaching out to hold her leg again. “She might.”

Bea shook her head. “I lost her her job. It was the only thing in the world that was important to her. Even though it was killing her. Even though she was stressed by it. She’ll never forgive mefor that. She won’t come back, Liz.”

Liz sighed. “She taught you something. Maybe you taught her something in return.”

“Like what?” muttered Bea, rubbing her eyes with her sleeve to stop the tears leaking out.

“Something about forgiveness, about intentions, something about being caring and loving.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bea sank down in her seat. “It doesn’t matter even if she did.”

“Why on earth not?” asked Liz.

“Because you’re right. I can’t have someone talk to me like that. I can’t be with someone who could lose her temper any second. I can’t put myself in that position. If I’m going to look after myself, then I have to do just that. I have to put myself first.”

“Even if that means being without her?”

Bea closed her eyes. “She doesn’t think she has a problem. I think she does. I don’t see how this can work out, Liz. I really don’t. And…” She hiccuped a sob. “And it hurts. It hurts so much.”

“Why?” Liz asked quietly. “Why does it hurt so much?”

“Because I think I was starting to love her,” Bea said. “It was fast and soon and I’d never say the words to her so early. But there was something there, something in the way we improved each other, something about how she made me feel. Not like she’d look after me, but like I could look after myself. I think I was falling for her.”

“Oh, Bea,” Liz said softly. “Oh, love.”

There were no words that could make this better. And Bea was sobbing again.

Chapter Thirty

Days were so long. Too long. Alli could swear that someone had put at least six extra hours into every day. And given that she didn’t know what to do with the usual twenty-four hours, she certainly didn’t know what to do with six extra ones.

Three days since she’d been fired and she had no idea what to do with herself. Other than think, of course, and that wasn’t something she particularly wanted to do. So when Izzy rang, she found herself accepting an invitation to coffee.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” was the first thing that Izzy said when Alli showed up at the small cafe.

“I can leave again if you like,” said Alli.

“Please don’t.”