Cupid's Way (18 page)

Clearly, she was on some kind of drive to self-destruct.

Evie realised she was pacing around the living room, and forced herself to sit down. The sofa was next to the picture window and the lights outside glittered orange and red. She said, ‘Fine. Just fine. Yes, everything’s absolutely fine. Better than fine, in fact.’

‘You sound so far away, Evie. Hold the phone closer to your mouth.’

Evie adjusted the receiver, then sighed in exasperation.

‘Mum, I’m in England. I
am
far away.’

Angela Stone cackled into the mouthpiece and Evie tipped her head back, wincing.

‘Oh, Evie. Always the same. Always there with the funny comebacks. How are Mum and Dad?’ She sounded as though she was eating a packet of crisps.

‘They’re fine,’ Evie told her, chewing on a nail. She wondered whether she should spill her news, then remembered that her mother had said she had exiting news of her own. ‘Mum, what was it you–’

‘Fine? I thought there was some big drama over the street being knocked down. How are they fine?’

‘Well, if you knew how they were already, why did you ask?’

‘Sorry, Miss Grumpy-Pants. Excuse me for breathing.’

Evie forced herself to take a deep, calming breath. Why was she being so difficult? Maybe she was hungry. She’d been so full of energy since leaving work that morning, charging around the city, making plans, she’d forgotten to eat. And phone calls with her mother were never easy. There was just too much history hanging around, like their personal rain cloud threatening to break open.

But it had been over a year since they’d spoken – shouldn’t she be happy that Angela wanted to share her news? Wasn’t that what she wanted, really? To feel important, to have a normal relationship?

And wasn’t this the day for fresh starts?

She softened her voice. ‘Gramps and Gran are doing okay, Mum. Thanks for asking. They’re stressed, naturally, but we’ve got a few ideas about how to fight the planners. In fact, if everything works out okay it might be–’

‘That’s lovely, sweetheart. I’m so glad. Anyway, the reason I was phoning was …’

Evie looked at the phone in her hand, and then back at the window, as though hoping there might be someone out there to sympathise with her. ‘See what she’s like?’ she might have said. ‘See what I have to put up with?’

She returned the phone to her ear. Her mother was still talking. ‘Sorry,’ Evie said, ‘I missed that. What did you say?’

Angela sighed. ‘Daydreaming again, were we? Well, when you move out here you’ll have no time for daydreaming. It’ll be hard work, but we’ll see you right. Toby said it’s always best to keep things in the family.’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘He’s such a lovely man, Evie. I really landed on my feet when I met him. To think what I had to put up with all those years, all those men with their stupid–’

‘Mum? What exactly are you going on about?’

‘Coming to Canada, of course. Toby and I want you to come and help us run the mail order pet supplies business. And the great news is, we’ve found some office space to rent in town so Toby’s going to clear out the spare room. You’ll be able to live right here with us.’

Evie blinked. The pounding music from the flat below started up again, and out in the corridor a door slammed shut, making the thin walls shake.

One door shuts, another one opens.

Evie let out a hysterical laugh. She hadn’t thought she’d be offered another job quite so soon.

‘Mum, I really don’t think I’m ready for that.’

‘Oh, I know you’re going to want time to think about it. That’s what I said to your gran the other day. Evie always has to consider everything from every angle, weigh up all the pros and cons. I was just like that at your age.’

‘Hold on – you talked to Gran about this?’

‘She didn’t mention it to you? She said she was going to mention it to you.’

‘I guess she had other things on her mind.’ Evie narrowed her eyes at the window. ‘Mum, have you ever heard of someone called Tommy?’

Silence down the line. Then, ‘I don’t think so. Was he one of your boyfriends?’ Angela laughed. ‘Was he one of
my
boyfriends?’

Evie bit her lip. Forcing her own fresh start was one thing, but this was her gran’s secret to tell, not hers. She decided a change of subject was the best thing, and she knew just what to say.

‘Mum, I walked out of my job today. I’m going to move away from Manchester. But not to Canada,’ she added quickly. Her mother’s cheering stopped abruptly.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Then where are you going?’

‘Home,’ Evie said, with a beaming smile on her face. ‘I’m going home, Mum. I’m going back to Cupid’s Way.’

*

For three days Evie was so busy she barely had time to eat. It seemed that leaving one life behind and moving on wasn’t as easy as packing a suitcase and jumping in your car. There were rental agreements to get out of and bills to finalize; there were pieces of furniture to find homes for and boxes of books and knick-knacks and kitchenalia to pack. She had more clothes than she’d realised, but most of them she put in bin bags and took to the charity shop on the corner. She also gave them most of her shoes and five decent handbags. Evie had no idea what she’d end up doing for work, but she did know she would never again wear a cheap suit to do it in.

On Thursday morning she noticed her phone on the kitchen counter and realised it had run out of charge at least two days ago. She plugged in the charger and waited until her screen lit up. Five text messages and twenty missed calls. Twenty! Evie put down a half-eaten piece of toast and looked at the messages. The first was from Zac:
Great news re Roman finds. Eight more in cellar.
It had come through on Tuesday morning. Evie remembered with a jolt that of all the jobs on her list, she’d forgotten the most essential – she hadn’t called her grandparents to ask whether she could actually stay with them. Not that she expected them to refuse.

She looked back at her phone. The next three messages were from Michael.

Thinking of you.

Flying back to Bristol tomorrow. No point asking if you fancy a drink I suppose? x

Hey there, Phoebe Sloan. Are you still ignoring me?

Evie swallowed. Her decision to move back to Bristol had absolutely nothing at all to do with him. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t thought about him constantly this week, wondering what he’d say when he heard the news. After all, Michael was still the only person who knew she’d lied about her job at Lee, Lee and Meredith in the first place. In bed at night she imagined complicated sets of circumstances that had Michael encountering his own epiphany and leaving his Goliath corporation to take up the fight alongside Evie. Together they would form their own environmental organisation, and their first task would be to save Cupid’s Way.

Of course, this was total bunkum. Pie in the sky. Michael Andrews was a dyed-in-the-wool businessman, a fact Evie could not ignore. There would be no walking off into the sunset ending for them. If she failed to save her grandparents’ home – if Dynamite Construction got its way – she wouldn’t be able to look at him ever again, let alone speak to him. And if she won the day, if they managed to get the street listed or protected in some way, what would Michael think of her then? Would he blame her for the lost opportunity?

She began to type a reply, but then deleted it. She was too full of pent-up energy to think through what she wanted to say, and she wasn’t going to agree to meet up with him until she’d settled back into Cupid’s Way and come up with a proper plan. There was just the slightest possibility that what her gran had suggested was true – that Michael was only interested in her so he could find out what the opposition was up to. She didn’t want to think about this possibility, but she couldn’t ignore its existence.

The final text was from her gran, and it read:
Call me
. Evie dialled straight away. Mavis answered on the first ring, breathless as though she’d been running.

‘Evie,’ she said, diving straight in, ‘you have to come back.’

‘I am. I mean, of course I will. What’s up?’

‘It’s so exciting, Evie. I think all our problems might be over.’

Evie leaned against the kitchen counter and listened. An archaeologist was visiting Cupid’s Way at the weekend to check out the artefacts. Would she like to be there? Evie was busy nodding, even though her gran couldn’t see her.

‘Of course I’ll come. Is it okay if I have the spare room again?’ She didn’t add that she needed the room for the foreseeable – there was plenty of time for that when her gran wasn’t so keyed up.

‘This is it, Evie,’ Mavis said, her voice breaking. ‘I think Zac’s little discovery could be the answer to all our problems. I think Cupid’s Way might be saved after all.’

Chapter 17

This time, Evie drove to Bristol – a journey that cost her dear in the goodwill of her long-suffering car. By the time it limped up to the edge of Cupid’s Way, the ancient Fiat was emitting noxious and worrying puffs of black smoke and a strange knocking had started every time she turned the wheel. When Evie pulled in and switched off the engine she almost heard its sigh of relief.

‘You can rest now,’ she said, patting the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. ‘Well done.’

She jumped out and hauled two battered brown suitcases from the back seat. The rest of her belongings were rammed into the boot; what she couldn’t fit in the car she’d sold or given away or dumped. It was the most cathartic thing she’d ever done in her life. It felt wonderful.

She entered Cupid’s Way via the north gate, stopping every few minutes to rest her cases on the cracked path. Although only a week since she’d left, the first signs of blossom had started to bud on the trees and the gardens were proudly showing off patches of bright yellow daffodils. Evie took in a deep lungful of the smell of freshly turned earth from the allotment to her right. The sky above her was that pale, washed-out blue you only saw in early spring. She could hear birdsong and distant voices and the discordant clanging of Pip and Cissy’s wind chimes. She dragged her suitcases towards number eleven, then stopped by the purple bench and listened again. Those voices weren’t so distant anymore – they were getting louder. And louder. Evie looked back and saw a small crowd of people flowing up the central cobbled path towards her. She smiled uncertainly. A welcome committee? It was nice, but not really what she’d expected. She parked her cases and turned around, arranging her face into an embarrassed grin.

The assembled group stopped about three metres away and focused its attention on a short man holding a loudspeaker. No one seemed remotely aware of Evie’s presence. She tucked her hair behind her ears and peered at the man. It was Bob Peacock, wearing what looked like a white bed sheet. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands and looked again. He was definitely dressed in a sheet, thrown over one shoulder and tied underneath his pot belly with a length of rope.

‘Evie,’ said a voice at her side. She looked round, relieved to find Sarah Lowry standing next to her. She’d started to think she might have wandered into a parallel universe.

‘What’s going on?’ Evie said. Sarah pulled a face, and nodded in Bob Peacock’s direction.

‘Did you ever see anything like it? He’s turning this place into a circus.’

‘Is the archaeologist still coming?’

‘That’s what this lot are here for. Half of Bristol have turned out, by the looks of it.’

Evie laughed at Sarah’s exaggeration – there were only twenty or so people milling about under the cherry blossom tree, while Bob fiddled with the loudspeaker.

Sarah saw her expression. She said, ‘You haven’t seen inside Zac’s house yet. There are even more of them in there, and a reporter’s coming from the Bristol Observer, and someone from English Heritage. Apparently your friend’s coming too,’ she added, throwing Evie an odd look. Evie knew instantly who she meant, but pretended she didn’t.

‘What friend?’

Sarah didn’t answer. She sighed and let her shoulders slump. ‘It’s Tim’s doing, although I don’t think he intended this. He’s the one who invited the archaeologist along, but it kind of snowballed. Bob’s pretty much taken over – he’s got this whole Roman thing going on. He’s taking them on a tour in a minute.’

‘Of course.’ It was obvious now. ‘The sheet is supposed to be a toga.’

‘Poor old Freda’s been forced into one, too. And the renters – not that they needed much persuading. It’s all a bit of a laugh to them.’

‘I don’t think that’s true. Cissy’s really settled here. They’re just as keen to stay as the rest of you.’ She’d been about to say “the rest of us”, but checked herself in time. She wasn’t officially a resident yet, and now didn’t seem the right moment for a big announcement.

‘I’m going to see what they’re up to,’ Sarah said. She stalked off towards Zac’s house, and after a beat, Evie followed.

She spotted Frank talking to a man in a suit, and was surprised when she got closer and saw it was Councillor Martin. This time his tie was yellow. Evie wondered what her gran made of that colour choice.

As she approached, a woman in her forties with short black hair and a winter tan strolled up to Frank and tapped him on the arm.

‘Do you live here?’ she demanded. Frank took a step back, then nodded, a tentative sort of smile on his face. Evie picked up her pace.

‘Why the hell are you being so selfish? Don’t you want my children to have decent health care? Do you know I have to get a bus all the way over to Farngate just to see the doctor?’ The woman stuck out her chin, fairly fizzing with anger. ‘You people, you’re all the same.’

Evie reached Frank and slipped her arm through his. He looked down at her, dazed. Councillor Martin had already stepped forward and was trying to calm the woman, but his words slid off her like ice cream thrown against glass.

‘You’d get compensation,’ the woman said. Her voice was hoarse.

‘It’s not about the compensation,’ Evie said, keeping her voice low. ‘These are people’s homes. They’ve lived here all their lives. They don’t want to be moved on, to say goodbye to their memories.’