The Family I Lost: A totally gripping and heartbreaking novel about family secrets by Ali Mercer

Author:Ali Mercer [Mercer, Ali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781803144016
Publisher: Bookouture
Published: 2022-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

PART THREE

JULIE

August 1977 to Spring 1978

TWENTY

Alice’s birthday, August 1977

Julie sets her alarm for seven on the big day and forces herself up and out of bed straight away, rather than lying in the dim morning light and enjoying the chance to have a few uninterrupted waking minutes to herself. The attic curtains at Hillview House are unlined and don’t keep out the sun, but on a promising summer day that’s no hardship.

When she potters down to the first floor she sees that the only bedroom door that is open is her parents’, revealing their modest, neatly made queen-sized bed. They always go to bed at the same time, and get up at the same time. They have that kind of marriage. Is that what it takes for a marriage to last? The idea still frightens her, which perhaps explains why, to her parents’ lasting shame, she is now divorced.

Her mum is sitting at the kitchen table with yesterday’s paper, doing the crossword. Dad must have gone to work already; even though he’s supposed to be easing off, he finds it difficult to let go.

‘There’s tea in the pot. Help yourself,’ Mum says. ‘You sleep all right?’

‘Yes,’ Julie lies.

She’d actually had a really restless night, broken up by bad dreams that she couldn’t remember on waking. Probably because she’s anxious about Mike making good on his threat to turn up uninvited. Anyway, it won’t help to tell Mum any of that. She pours out a cup of tea and sees that it’s very strong and stewed. Mum must have been up for a while.

‘Kitchen looks pretty,’ Mum says. ‘You did a good job.’

Julie had stayed up the night before, blowing up balloons, finding things in the kitchen to tie them to. She had felt a little sad to be doing this on her own. In many ways Mike had not been a great husband, but he had been very good at blowing up and tying balloons.

‘Did my best,’ she says, and cuts herself a couple of slices of bread for toasting. It’s perfect for it – a day-old loaf, no doubt left over from yesterday. And there it is, the smell she most associates with her childhood and her parents, and that, in spite of everything, still makes her feel she’s home.

Mum looks up at the kitchen clock. ‘We’d best make tracks pretty soon if we’re to make it to the bakery for eight,’ she says.

Back in the days when Julie was still getting on with Mike, they’d laid bets each time they saw her parents about how long it would take for the bakery to come up. It’s like another member of the family, perhaps a stern, hard-to-please parent or an equally demanding child. It stands for home and comfort and security but also for duty and responsibility, and for as long as she can remember, all she has wanted is to escape from it.

But today she is going back, even though it is a special day, because her sister is heavily pregnant and they are short-staffed.

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