Sorry it's been a while since I've updated, but my exams are over now so I've got a bit more spare time on my hands, which has been lovely because I've been enjoying reading all of the Last Tango stories in the archive too! x

Chapter Three | Building on the Ruins

Gillian was in the middle of kneading her scone mixture when her mobile phone rang. She ignored it the first time; Raff was upstairs doing homework (that was the official line, although she very much doubted it) and Alan and Celia were sitting on the wall outside talking about something and nothing. She didn't really care for anyone else.

The second time, she decided she should probably answer. She couldn't afford to lose her job over something trivial like refusing to come in at short notice; she just did what she needed to do to keep the boss happy, as a general rule, however much it inconvenienced her. It was a habit she'd got into when she was married to Eddie, trying to keep people happy, and she'd never really been able to shake that habit, even after his death.

She dusted off her hands as best she could and found her mobile beneath Raff's helmet. She hoped the dampness of the raisins wouldn't react badly with the phone battery. "Hello?"

"Gillian, it's Caroline."

"Oh, hi."

This would be another favour Caroline needed doing, then. Not that she particularly minded; once the bad feelings following their first meeting ("low-life, brain-dead trailer trash", and the like) had thawed, Gillian had found that she rather liked Caroline.

She evidently worked very hard, and Celia spoke very fondly of her on the occasions there hadn't been an argument of some sort. There was something attractive about her assuredness, perhaps because Gillian knew that her would-be sister (the coincidence with the birthdays still bemused them both) wasn't assured deep down.

Caroline still hadn't spoken again. Gillian tucked the phone between her shoulder blade and cheek, and began kneading the mixture again. "What can I do for you? Wondering where your mum's got to? She's sitting outside with Alan; her phone's probably buried somewhere beneath all this junk again. Do you want me to go and–"

"No, I rang to talk to you."

"Is everything alright?"

"Not really," Caroline said, her voice muffled, "No."

It wasn't true that she didn't care for anyone else. She cared for Caroline. "What's happened? Are the boys okay?"

"Yeah, they're– sorry, I shouldn't even be bothering you, it's just I don't really have anyone else to talk to. John's just–"

"A twat?"

"John's a twat, and I don't want to ruin my mother's day when she's so happy with Alan, so I didn't really know–" her voice shook and broke off again, "I'm sorry, are you busy?"

"No, I'm not doing anything important, me. Go on, what's up?"

"It's– it's Kate."

Gillian put the scone mix back in the bowl and wiped her hands on the dish cloth, then sat down on the sofa arm and tucked her legs up. There were some photos laid out on the coffee table; Alan had obviously been showing Celia. It pleased her to see one of them was of her mother, looking beautiful in a long burgundy dress. Her mother had always been beautiful.

"The stuff from the wedding? I thought that was all sorted now. I mean, obviously her dad's not sorted, he's still– but I thought Kate was okay."

"I don't know. I don't know if she's okay or not," Caroline said, "Oh God, sorry, I don't even know why I'm–"

"You don't need to apologise."

"No, I know, it's– she said on that night she didn't want me to go in with her, but she rang me the morning after, that was on Sunday, saying she was feeling better and she was sorry for ruining Alan and Celia's big day. She sounded fine, she said she was going to see her dad later on, she thought it would be better if I didn't go this time."

"That's sort of understandable."

"I know. I rang her on Sunday night to see how she was, and she was really drunk, I mean really– I don't think she even knew who I was. I know I should've gone round or something, but I was just angry. She barely drinks, just a bit of wine when we have dinner, and it just seemed so cowardly to get pissed. My dad used to drink a lot."

"So did Eddie."

Raff came hurtling downstairs, grabbing his helmet from the table and leaning over to kiss her on the cheek. 'See you later', he mouthed. He was going out with Robbie, and then Robbie was coming round for tea. "It'll be ready at five," she'd told him pointedly, and he'd said "Right," in exactly the same way he said "Right" to her pleas that she keep Raff safe. No doubt they'd arrive home about half seven.

"I didn't speak to her yesterday," Caroline continued, "Then today I thought I'd better make peace, because she's always been there for me, so I– I went round with– with some flowers, and her house is all locked up, the curtains are all shut and I tried both of her phones, but there was nothing."

Gillian's heart went out to her for the tremor in her voice. "Has she gone away or something? Maybe she needed a bit of space."

"I asked her neighbour and he said she'd asked him to put some food down for the cat, she told him she might not be back for a while. And I don't know what to do, Gillian, I thought she could've told me anything but she's– God, she could be anywhere, she probably thinks I don't give a damn about her. She was really upset, and I just–"

Gillian looked around at the chaos of the farmhouse. The newspapers (both The Guardian and the Daily Mail now) littered around, unwashed mugs and Raff's Xbox games laid out on the table. She tried to keep the house in some sort of order, but some days there were eight or nine people popping in and out, Raff's friends or Alan's friends or Celia's relatives.

Sometimes she thought about how much time she'd have to clean a home if she didn't have the farm to look after, but then she banished those thoughts; she adored the freedom the farm gave her, and the happiness she felt when she saw the first spring lambs bouncing around the field each year. Chaos wasn't always a bad thing. Sometimes it was quite nice.

"Do you want me to drive over?"

"Would you?"

XxXxX