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Pascal quietly pulled a chair up for Becky and she gratefully sat in it. Maud held both of her hands and the pair grinned at each other. ‘Thanks, Pascal,’ Becky said, not looking around.

‘It’s OK. I think I might go for a walk now.’

‘Oh, you don’t have to!’

‘ Non , it will give you two a chance to talk.’ He leaned down and kissed Maud lightly on the cheek, then turned to Becky, pausing as if deciding whether to do the same to her. He shook his head lightly and smiled before walking off.

Had he not wanted to kiss her in front of Maud?

Or did he already regret last night?

This was one of the reasons she’d stayed single for so long, she remembered. The exhausting second-guessing that came with meeting someone new.

‘Such a nice boy,’ said Maud when he’d gone. Was it Becky’s imagination or did Maud give her a knowing look?

‘He really does seem lovely.’

There was a moment’s silence. When you have twenty years of absence to unpick, it’s hard to know where to start. In the end, Becky said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘What for?’ Maud looked at her with interest.

‘Well, all of it, I suppose. For losing contact. For not responding to your Christmas cards. For… well, for not realising you were alive. And I guess the kind of… monetary way I seized on the café.’

‘That’s a lot to apologise for,’ Maud observed.

‘Well, yep.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ she said firmly. ‘Goodness, you were only ten when I last saw you. You could hardly have defied your mother and flown to see me on your own. And memory is fickle at that age; your parents are your whole world. I never blamed you for any of it.’

Becky was determined not to let herself cry again, but she was having trouble keeping her resolve. ‘Who do you blame?’ she asked, more interested than anything. ‘Mum? Cynthia, I mean?’

Maud shook her head vehemently. ‘Poor Cynthia. Has she changed at all since I last saw her? Mellowed, perhaps?’

Becky snorted, unintentionally. ‘Sorry. But no. She’s, if anything, more forceful.’

‘I’m not surprised. Losing Peter must have been quite awful.’

Any humour she had felt at Maud’s observations on her mother faded. ‘Yes. Poor Dad.’

‘He was a good man.’

‘Yes. Yes, he really was.’

‘But Cynthia,’ Maud shook her head. ‘Not the easiest woman to love.’

‘No.’

‘God knows I tried to be there for her after her mother died. And other times, too.’ Maud’s lips pursed slightly. ‘Silly girl would never let anyone close.’

Becky felt a wave of sadness. ‘But she’s happy, I think.’

‘Yes. I expect she is, on a level. But…’ Maud shrugged. ‘Perhaps this isn’t the best subject to discuss right now.’

‘Go on. It’s OK.’ In fact, Becky was intrigued. It was years since she’d been able to talk to anyone else who knew her mother, properly; someone who knew the heart of her.

‘I was just going to say – it’s a shame that her happiness comes at the cost of those around her.’

‘Oh.’

‘You disagree?’

‘She’s my mum,’ Becky shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t say she’s cost me happiness. There are times when she could have been more thoughtful, maybe? But she is who she is, I guess.’

Maud nodded. ‘I don’t expect you to take sides,’ she said after a beat.

‘Thank you.’

‘I think Peter was the tonic she needed. She certainly softened a bit when they first met.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. They balanced each other out somewhat. Although they’d argue horribly sometimes.’

‘Oh. I don’t remember.’

‘You know, he’d wanted to come and live here for a bit? A sabbatical, he called it. He wanted to write a book, I think.’

‘Dad? Write?’

‘Yes. I think your mother was equally surprised. Engineers aren’t known for their creativity, after all. But your father had something… the stories he used to tell you at night-time. Off the top of his head! They were… I still remember some of them now.’

‘I do too…’ Becky hadn’t thought of those stories for years. The little trains and their funny little stations. The world he created with words. He never wrote anything down, yet could tell her stories for hours. ‘And Mum didn’t want to?’

‘You mustn’t blame Cynthia too much. We’re all a product of our upbringing.

My sister – your grandmother – was the same.

We had strict parents by today’s standards.

But they wanted the best for us. Things were different then.

We needed to earn and they wanted a good life for us.

It meant working hard; high expectations.

All things that are quite admirable. And my sister, God rest her, only had the one child to focus on.

I think she created quite an impossible situation for your mother. ’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, your grandmother had a lot of regrets educationally; and she was frustrated in her work. She pushed Cynthia hard to save her from living the same life. And it worked, of course. She’s enormously successful. But it took its toll in other areas. And on you.’

‘Oh. I didn’t know that about Grandma.’ Becky’s grandmother had died before she was born. She’d never felt quite real to her.

‘She didn’t mean it. You have to remember that in those days, we didn’t know so much about child development.’

Becky nodded.

‘Anyway, at one point, when you were eight or nine, I think that your mother was warming to the idea of the move. Just a little.’

‘Really! Mum?’

‘Well, she loved your father. And she could see how much it meant to him.’ Maud smiled, remembering. Her eyes looked distant. She still clutched one of Becky’s hands in hers.

‘Yes.’

‘But when it came to it, I think she was too afraid.’

‘Of moving to a new country?’

‘That, yes. But mainly of letting go of what she had. It was – is perhaps still – her safety net, you see. Her evidence that she hasn’t let her mother down. I doubt she realises that even now.’

‘Oh.’ Becky looked at this woman who hadn’t seen Cynthia for two decades, yet could see a side of her that Becky had never known. It made sense, from this distance. She felt a well of sympathy in her chest. ‘You’re being very… forgiving about it.’

To her surprise, Maud threw her head back and laughed.

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she said, after a moment.

‘I wouldn’t say I’ve completely forgiven her.

I have my moments, even now. What could have been.

Your father… his health. You. Perhaps it’s just old age creeping up on me!

When you’re young, older people seem quite one-dimensional,’ Maud said.

‘You can’t imagine they have a past. But you see things differently when you get to my stage of life.

Everyone seems young. Everyone seems… forgivable. ’

‘Still, I wish we’d stayed in touch.’

‘Oh, me too. Of course. But apparently, I was leading you astray. Your father too, I think, in your mother’s estimation.

When it came to it, she couldn’t take the risk of a freer, less predictable life.

And my being a bad influence, or a troublemaker, was her way of justifying it to herself, I think. ’

‘A bad influence?’ Becky looked at the neatly dressed old woman in front of her.

‘I know! It’s laughable, looking back. Anyway.’ Maud seemed to right herself. ‘That’s ancient history. Besides, I could have made more effort too – especially after Peter died. None of us was perfect, or is now. But hindsight certainly adds clarity.’

‘It’s not too late,’ Becky suggested.

‘Perhaps. Anyway, I’m sure you didn’t come to map out the mistakes from the last twenty years. Tell me about you. I’ve seen some things online of course. Lovely offices. But tell me about your work, your life in London. It looks like you’re having a marvellous time.’

‘Does it?’

‘Yes, although I think those platforms are designed to make everyone look glamorous,’ Maud admitted.

‘Well, I’m a director,’ said Becky, trying to suppress a proud smile. ‘Youngest they’ve ever had, apparently. And, you know , well, on track to get onto the board. That’s it, I suppose. It’s going well – or it was.’

‘On track? Sounds like something Cynthia would say.’

‘Ha. Well, I suppose it’s her who showed me how to write five-year plans, strategise, that sort of thing.’

‘Oh, goodness. I’d forgotten about Cynthia’s five-year plans!’ Maud chuckled affectionately. ‘Anyway, you said things were going well – do you mean the burnout? Pascal mentioned it.’

‘Did he? Oh, it’s nothing. I just… I had a bad day and things got out of hand.’

Maud looked at her, intelligent eyes reading so much more than Becky said. But she didn’t offer a counter opinion.

‘And you’re enjoying this… break? Enjoying the café?’

‘It’s wonderful!’ she said without thinking.

‘And do you still paint?’

‘Oh? No. I don’t really do that any more.’

‘I see. No time, I expect.’

‘Yeah. Sadly.’

‘You used to be quite the prodigy in that area.’

‘Ha. I wish.’

Maud shrugged and smiled.

‘The café,’ Becky said then. ‘What made you decide to give it to me?’

Maud smiled. ‘I’ll admit there was a part of me that wanted to… prompt something from you, or Cynthia. Force a response – solicitors’ letters tend to do that.’

‘Oh. So…’

‘But I do want you to have it. If you want it. I haven’t got anyone else – and I can’t work there any more. I wanted to offer you… a lifeline.’

‘A lifeline?’

‘Well, an alternative. To the high-flying lifestyle.’ Maud laughed. ‘You may not want that, of course. But I had to be sure.’

‘Sure of what?’

‘Sure that your life choices are making you happy, rather than fulfilling some need of your mother’s.’

‘Oh! No. They’re all my choices. I love my job! And…’

‘Well, that’s good then,’ Maud said. ‘So if you want to, you must sell the café. It’s no good to me from here. I don’t need the money. And it would come to you anyway when I die.’

‘You don’t need the money?’ Becky thought about the rather shabby furniture in some of the guest rooms. The fact that the café looked a little run-down, at least to her eyes.

‘No. I have plenty of the stuff. From my work as a photographer. I used to sell quite a few photos. Anyway, no matter. That’s the truth. I don’t need it. It’s yours.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I suppose it’s a little unfair of me to have brought you out here like this. Although I can’t be blamed for faking my own death, that’s for sure.’

‘No! That was all in my head.’ They smiled at each other, but there was sadness there.

‘I don’t have to sell it,’ Becky said, suddenly.

‘I could… oversee it. From England if I have to. Find a manager?’ The beautiful flat she was planning to buy flashed up in her mind, but she pushed it away.

It just wasn’t an option – selling the café now simply to raise the deposit would be heartless.

‘You could visit it still, sometimes? I can come over?’

Maud touched her hand. ‘Becky,’ she said. ‘You do you.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t do what you feel I might like, or Cynthia. Or anyone else who’s important to you. Do what you wish. There are enough expectations on people of your age without me piling on more.’

‘Oh,’ Becky said. ‘Thank you.’

The conversation petered out and Maud began to look a little restless.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes, it’s a complete nuisance but I need the loo and I need to get one of the nurses to help me get there,’ she said.

‘I could…’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Maud said. ‘It’s just so frustrating.

It’s what you fear most, you know, as you get older.

Falling. As a child you don’t care. When you’re an adult – a younger adult at least – you just find it embarrassing.

But now? It’s the start of the decline.’ She said the last words with a touch of humour, but Becky could see the fear in them.

‘But you’re getting better?’

‘There’s a limit.’ A nurse noticed Maud’s waving hand and came to help her, talking to her in rapid French. Maud replied fluently, but there was no way that Becky could keep up.

‘I expect you’ll be off, then?’ Maud said, her tone sounding slightly sharper than it had.

‘If you… I don’t want to stay too long.’

‘Right then. Well, it was lovely to see you.’ Maud heaved herself up, the nurse’s hands hovering, prepared to break a potential fall. ‘Do visit again before you go.’

Compared to her welcome, it was cold. But perhaps Maud was tired.

‘Of course! It really was lovely to see you.’

‘You too.’ Maud’s tone softened as she took a couple of steps forward, leaning on her crutch, nurse at her back. ‘Look after yourself, Becky. Burnout is no joke.’

Becky gave a nod. As Maud made her painfully slow way across the wooden floor she tried to avert her eyes, look out of the window, as if something interesting had caught her eye. It was only when Maud reached the door that Becky looked at her fully again and gave a little wave.

Moments later, she walked out to the front drive again, leaned against Pascal’s car and hoped that he hadn’t gone too far. They’d yet to exchange mobile numbers so she couldn’t call him. Instead, she texted Amber, who’d left her on read the last couple of times.

Becky

Can we talk? I’ve just met Maud! Miss you.

But there was no answer.