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“Shit,” said Lucy miserably. “She must feel awful.”

Billy nodded. “Only one thing you can do about that.”

“Yeah, right.” She sighed, drank her coffee and stood up. “Alright, I’m off to talk to Cal. I’ll see you at home later.”

“We’ll have a drink ready,” George promised, coming back tothe table with a simple ham sandwich. “Either to drown your sorrows or celebrate your success.”

“Let’s hope it’s the latter,” Lucy said, not at all sure that it would be.

She needed to talk to Cal, needed to explain herself, needed to let her know that she believed her. But she wasn’t at all sure that Cal was going to talk to her. Getting her to even open the front door was going to be the first hurdle.

THE BLUE DOOR was solidly closed. Lucy hesitated for a second before knocking on it. Once, twice, no answer. The third time, still no answer.

Crap. Maybe Cal had left already. Maybe she’d written the day off and gone back to the pub. No, that would mean seeing Rosalee and she was probably the last person that Cal wanted to see just now. Gone for a ride maybe.

Lucy rubbed her face.

This wasn’t her fault, she knew that. But she could also see why Cal would feel hurt, and the thought of soft, squishy, lovely Cal being hurt was enough to make her want to cry.

What was she supposed to do now?

She supposed she’d better go back to the cafe and wait until later. She wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of waiting.

Almost as an afterthought, she tried the door handle.

The door opened.

Of course it did. No one in Tetherington locked their doors during the day. Cal had grown up here, she knew that. Pure force of habit had her leaving the door open. Lucy stepped inside the cool hallway and closed the front door.

“Cal?” she said.

“Go away,” came a voice from the living room.

“Go away? Seriously? You sound like you’re five,” Lucy said, trying to be funny and failing.

“Just… go away.”

Lucy stepped further into the hall, until she was in the livingroom door, until she could see Cal sitting on the couch staring at her furiously. Except her eyes were red and the tip of her nose was red and Lucy knew that she’d been crying.

And every word that she’d planned flew out of her head all at once.

With two steps she was inside, then she was on the couch, pulling a now sobbing Cal into her arms and holding her tight, rubbing her hand across spiky hair, feeling Cal’s body shudder as she cried.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” she murmured.

“It’s not,” Cal said, pulling away and heaving in a deep breath to calm herself. “It’s not alright. I lost my temper and I shouldn’t have.”

“You were hurt and defensive,” said Lucy. “Everyone has the right to defend themselves, even if you really had nothing to defend yourself against.”

Cal blinked and swallowed, shaking her head slightly. “I can’t do it, Lucy. I can’t have another person lack faith in me. It was hard enough…” She trailed off.

“It was hard enough when your own mother didn’t believe you?” Lucy asked, sure that she and Billy had guessed correctly.

“I thought she’d stand up for me,” Cal said, looking down at the ground. “I thought when everyone accused me, she would stand up and tell them that I hadn’t done it.”

“And she didn’t.” Lucy touched her arm.

“Everyone was there, or it felt like it anyway. The vicar, Doris Renton, bunches of townspeople. And my mum. They kept talking and talking. And I was sure that at any moment mum was going to stand up and say something. I kept waiting for it to happen, kept telling myself that this wasn’t so bad, that I just had to wait it out. But she didn’t, Lucy. She never said a word.”