Page 80 of The Stolen Child

She loved her parents.

They were flawed, yes, there could be no doubting that. But they’d done their best with Lily as they’d learned to live with their grief.

Or was it their guilt rather than grief with which they had to live? Lily’s mind went back to Ben’s birthday again.

Guilt never allows you to let go – that’s what her mother had said.

What had her parents done that night?

BEFORE

November 1979

Sally

Elite, Wandsworth, London

Sally gazed at her reflection in the mirror as excitement and nerves bubbled in her heart. Her hair, meticulously styled into soft waves, cascaded to her shoulders. Nicola pinned a delicate white floral headpiece to her crown and stepped back to ensure it was perfectly aligned.

‘The prettiest bride I’ve ever seen,’ Nicola declared, rearranging one stray strand of hair on Sally’s shoulder.

‘Let me touch up your make-up,’ Elsie said, moving forward. She opened a large cosmetic case and pulled out powder, dabbing it onto the bridge of Sally’s nose. Then she reapplied another layer of pink lipstick. ‘Perfection.’

‘Thank you, both. I couldn’t have done this without you.’ Sally’s eyes welled with gratitude as she looked at them, dressed in pretty powder-blue dresses specially bought for this day as her bridesmaids. ‘And you both look stunning,’ she added, her voice filled with affection.

‘Between our hairdressing skills and Elsie’s make-up artistry, we can’t fail to stun everyone!’ Nicola said, giving them a little twirl. She pulled a bottle of Cava from behind the reception desk, popped its cork and filled three coupé glasses with the frothy liquid. ‘We’ve got half an hour before we need to get you changed into your wedding dress, so let’s have a little snifter here first of all.’ She passed them their drinks. ‘A toast. For Sally and Ian. A whirlwind love story.’

‘Cheers!’ they all called out as they clinked glasses.

‘Are you sure?’ Elsie asked, taking her by surprise.

Nicola made a face at Elsie, as if warning her to stay quiet, but Elsie never listened to anyone else. When she had something to say, she usually did. ‘It’s only been six months since you met Ian. It’s not too late to back out if you’re unsure. That’s all I’m saying.’

Sally felt a flush of anger at Elsie’s comment. She replied in a clipped voice, ‘Of course I’m sure. We love each other. Why should we wait to get married?’ Her best friend and the woman who had become her surrogate mother looked back at her in silence. ‘I wouldn’t have said yes when he proposed if I wasn’t one hundred per cent sure!’

‘Well, that’s okay, then,’ Elsie finally replied with a smile.

But Sally didn’t return the smile. Elsie’s question had touched a nerve.

‘Why can’t you be happy for me?’ Sally asked.

As ever the peacekeeper, Nicola said, ‘Elsie is looking out for her best friend. That’s all.’

‘Look, if you are happy, so am I!’ Elsie said, holding her hands up as if in surrender. ‘Come on, don’t be cross with me. Not today.’

Sally took a sip of her drink, her resolve firm. She was determined not to let anything dampen today’s happiness, so she let Elsie’s comment slide, no matter how much it irked her. Yes, her relationship with Ian had been a whirlwind, but she believed in their love.

When Ian had arrived at the salon the week after her mother’s cremation, Sally had felt butterflies dance in her tummy. She knew that his presence was a statement. He waited until Sally was free so that she could wash and cut his hair. Massaging shampoo into a scalp had never felt so intimate before. As she trimmed his long, dark, feathered hair, she felt his eyes watching her every move.

He was the most handsome man that Sally had ever met. His muscular frame made her feel safe and secure. When he asked her to go to the pictures with him after work, she had no choice but to say yes, because all plans of being coy flew out of the window when he touched her hand, sending shivers down her spine. Ian drove them to the Granada Theatre, at Clapham Junction, and they sat on the front row of the balcony, which had a plaque noting that the Duchess of Kent had sat there too, when it had opened. And Sally had felt like a duchess too as she sat there.

They saw The Champ, which was the new Jon Voight and Faye Dunaway movie. By the final credits, Sally was weeping and she leaned into Ian’s comforting embrace. He passed her his white handkerchief and kissed her hand gently as she dabbed her tears away.

Sally knew, with every fibre of her being, that her future was with this man.

Less than three months later they were engaged, and now, six months after their first date, they were to be married. It was a small civil ceremony, followed by a reception in a nearby hotel. Ian had insisted that he organise it all. And Sally knew that this in part was why Elsie was irked. She’d wanted to help, but Ian had refused all offers. They decided to have an intimate ceremony, with two witnesses each. Ian had persuaded her that it was best to have it this way, as it wouldn’t seem right if they had a big celebration so soon after her mother’s death. And, when he put it like that, she could understand his logic.

This meant that Sally could not invite Sister Jones and the gang from the cleaning company. She would have loved them to be there, to watch her make her vows. Ian wasn’t close to his parents or siblings, so they were not invited either. And, as Sally was an orphan with no siblings, that suited her too.