Hit and Run by Maria Frankland (best book recommendations txt) 📗

Rob has always said marrying Denise was the biggest mistake he ever made. They got together not long after his first engagement was broken off. Bryony had wanted travel and freedom – Rob wanted money and career.

Rob felt he had to marry Denise after she became pregnant with Simone. He later discovered the pregnancy was deliberate but didn’t learn this until after their wedding. His marriage to her consequently only lasted two years. At least he’s beating that record with me. There’s been no love lost between me and Rob’s ex. And I can just about tolerate Simone, Rob’s whining ten-year-old, as long as it’s in small doses. She’s not too keen on me either, but we seem to have developed an unspoken agreement to keep out of one another’s way.

What I want to know is why Bryony is so desperate to contact Rob. I feel like looking her number up and ringing her back. I should have answered the phone when I had the chance, but really, I don’t want to know the truth. Maybe I’m more like Dad than I care to admit.

There’s the start of an email from an employment agency on Rob’s screen. He can’t be looking for another job. The subject line states, Executive Director of Finance. It must be spam or something. There are three missed calls from an unknown number. It’s not even ten o’clock. His phone is having a busy morning. Unlike him, out on his bike, in his own little bubble. He pretends to be all caring, getting involved in this situation with my mother, but I know that he’s simply trying to deflect the attention from himself. From his recent behaviour and distance, I know there is something going on with him. I grab my handbag and car keys. I need to get out of this house.

* * *

I had a moment when I doubted my plans.

I even pulled up at the side of the road.

There was a final chance to change my mind.

But deep down, I knew what had to be done.

Chapter 4

I settle on my sun lounger with a cup of tea and a book. I love my peaceful afternoons and usually get through a novel every two or three days. It’s my escape into a more exciting life. I’ve got an hour before I need to collect Jack. He’s going to be so disappointed when I arrive, instead of Granny Maggie. I imagine her now, she’ll be nearing Devon, without a care in the world, not giving a toss about the stress she’s putting me under, and as for Dad, she won’t give him a second thought.

She’s never really forgiven him for not taking me to court and contesting my grandmother’s will, calling him spineless and every other name under the sun. He was genuinely happy with his fifty grand and insistent that I had what his mother had wanted me to have. This was all wrapped up inside the guilt he felt at their estrangement.

I’ll never forget what Mum said to me after I received my settlement - your diligence paid off in the end, didn’t it Fiona? Like I’d only looked after my grandmother for what I might get out of it. To be honest, Grandma lived a frugal life, and I had no idea she had that sort of money.

Grandma and Mum despised each other with a vengeance. They had apparently never got along, and there was always an atmosphere at family occasions. If Grandma had known about Mum’s affair and Dad’s subsequent overdose, she’d have been spinning in her grave.

My dear mother paid Dad’s spinelessness back by embarking on her first affair – at least it was her first, as far as I knew. She didn’t leave him until the third affair. And by then, the hole of depression was too deep for me to drag him out of.

I put my book to one side. I can’t concentrate. I want to stop my monkey-mind from jumping around its familiar territory, but the harder I try, the more my thoughts scramble over one another.

I spent my childhood vowing that I would never turn out like Mum, as a mother, a wife, or as a person full stop. She was so inconsistent. If we were around others, she would act like mother of the year, but when we were alone, she would not speak to me at best, or be cruel at worst. And when I say cruel…

She once told me she could feel my presence if I was in the house. I had asked her what she meant, and she replied that my being around gave her a bad feeling. Dad once explained that Mum had suffered with postnatal depression after my birth and claimed to have no recollection of me being born. This, he said, had damaged any potential bond she could have had with me.

Yet for all her indifference towards me, she was also controlling. I had buck teeth as a child, yet she wouldn’t allow me to wear a brace. The other thing that still bugs me, is how she always made me wear my hair like a boy. I was never allowed to grow it long; she said it was too messy.

She threw me out of the house at sixteen, whilst dad was at work. She had caught me drinking her vodka from her cabinet. She had slapped my face and screamed at me, saying I was a total disgrace. I took refuge at Grandma’s to start with, but was at an age when I was resentful and hormonal. Before long, Grandma gave me some money for a deposit on a flat. I was obviously too much for her.

One of the first things I did after Mum kicked me out was to get a brace for my teeth. I could finally wear things other than charity shop cast-offs and grow my hair long. She was a strange and cold woman, my