Impossible To Forget Read online

  ALSO BY IMOGEN CLARK

  Postcards from a Stranger

  The Thing About Clare

  Where the Story Starts

  The Last Piece

  Postcards at Christmas (a novella)

  Reluctantly Home

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2022 by Blue Lizard Books Ltd

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Lake Union Publishing, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Lake Union Publishing are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781542021180

  ISBN-10: 1542021189

  Cover design by Sarah Whittaker

  CONTENTS

  START READING

  August 2018 . . .

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  The unlikeliest people are hiding halos beneath their hats.

  Anonymous

  August 2018

  My dear friends,

  If you are reading this, then I must be dead. (I’ve always wanted to say that – so very Agatha Christie! And please don’t cry, Leon. It’s only a bit of fun. x)

  Seriously though, I want to thank you all for being there for me over the last couple of months. It’s been pretty tough, but having you lot in my corner has made it easier to cope. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d have done without you. I couldn’t have wished for a better bunch of mates.

  But there’s just one last thing I need to ask you to do for me.

  Obviously, my biggest concern is my beautiful girl, Romany. I will never understand a universe that lets a parent die before they have finished preparing their child to live. It’s all kinds of wrong. Yet we are where we are.

  Without me, Romany will be left all alone. Even though she’s about to turn eighteen, she’s really still a child with so much to learn about the world, good and bad. She needs someone to be there for her, a guardian if you like, to guide her until she finds her feet. It won’t be forever, just until she finishes her A levels and gets a place at university, but I can’t bear to think of her struggling through school on her own. I had to do that, and I don’t want history repeating itself.

  That’s where you come in. I charge you, my dearest and most trusted friends, with the vitally important task of steering her through the challenging months ahead.

  I know it wouldn’t be fair to suggest that just one of you shoulders this massive responsibility, so I’ve decided to ask you all to play to your individual strengths.

  Maggie – as my most highly qualified and pragmatic friend, please would you help Romany with all things legal and formal, and anything else that she should read before signing. I was never any good at that stuff and I know you’ll make a much better job of it.

  Leon – to you I leave her cultural needs. Make sure that she listens to all kinds of music and not just whatever crap is in the charts. She should read loads, and write if the muse puts in an appearance, and I want her to be a regular at the theatre and the cinema. Art galleries too – basically all the things that will lift her day-to-day life above the mundane and make her wonder.

  Tiger – I need you to keep her horizons wide. Make sure she travels whenever she can and absorbs different ways of life as easily as she absorbs sunlight. Help her to keep her eyes, and her heart, open.

  And finally Hope. You may wonder what you’re doing here. I know we’ve only known each other for a comparatively short amount of time, but I think I know you well enough to ask you to help, and something tells me that you would be the perfect candidate to keep an eye on Romany’s relationships, friendships and affairs of the heart. Please show her how to judge people accurately and fairly, so that she can forgive the weaknesses of others.

  So, even though my baby girl is setting forth on life’s great adventure without her mum by her side, she will have you four, her guardian angels, to protect her. I know that she couldn’t be in better hands.

  All my love, forever,

  Angie x

  1

  The solicitor removed her glasses, settled them artfully on top of her head and looked up at the collected ensemble. The four guardians sat slack-jawed, trying to process what they had just heard. Merely losing their friend Angie was not enough, it appeared. Now they had to step up and take responsibility for her child too, or at least parts of her. It was hardly surprising that they had turned a little pale.

  The solicitor waited, giving them each a chance to absorb the letter’s contents, and as they did she eyed them all with mild curiosity. Who were these characters to Angie, she wondered, and how had they ended up being cast in these unforeseen and rather challenging roles?

  Directly opposite her sat the daughter, Romany. She was tiny, built as if a breath of wind could blow her away like a cobweb, but there was something in her not-quite-brown eyes that suggested that she was more robust than she might appear. She was barely eighteen and already she had had to deal with the terminal illness and death of her only parent. You didn’t manage that without coming apart unless you had some inner resources to draw on. And she didn’t look as if she was coming apart. There’d been no drama or histrionics. She had listened to the reading of the letter calmly and without reaction.

  The solicitor knew that her client’s wishes would have come as a surprise to all five of them. Angie had been very clear on the matter of secrecy, almost gleeful in fact, at their meeting several weeks before.

  ‘I’m not going to tell them what I’m planning,’ she had said. By then, her skin had taken on a yellowish pallor and was pulled tightly across her cheekbones, making them appear angular and sharp. ‘I’m sure they’ll all say yes if I ask them now, but I’d rather not give them the option. If they don’t know what’s coming, they’re less likely to make excuses or refuse.’

  The solicitor’s training made her uncomfortable with such vagaries and she wanted to object, get Angie to put something more concrete in place for the girl; but then again, Romany had already turned eighteen and so technically, there was no need for the appointment of a single guardian, let alone four. Whether the chosen ones were prepared to step up to their allotted tasks
was not a legal matter and therefore not one with which the solicitor need concern herself unduly. She had the sense that there was something else at play here, though, some greater purpose that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

  But she wasn’t paid to decipher clues from her clients. She had drafted the will and read the letter out as instructed and with that her responsibility for the matter ended.

  Romany took a tissue out of a pocket now and held it in her hand, anticipating tears, but none fell. The same could not be said for Leon. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he wiped them away noisily using a blue cotton handkerchief that had been ironed into a neat square. He was a plain man, his features unremarkable, his dark hair parted neatly and combed to one side as his mother might have done for him on the first day of school. Angie had mentioned that he was a chemical engineer, this information imparted with a degree of scorn as if it were a laughable career choice, although it seemed perfectly acceptable to the solicitor, who had firm and possibly old-fashioned ideas about what constituted a good job.

  Maggie, the friend newly responsible for Romany’s contractual well-being, opened her mouth to speak and the solicitor, anticipating a clashing of legal horns, cut across her.

  ‘I also have Angie’s will, a copy of which will be provided to each of you. She appoints you all as her executors . . .’ She saw Maggie raise a neatly shaped eyebrow. ‘I am aware that having so many executors is unusual, and I counselled Angie against it. However, she felt that it was important, in the circumstances, that you each had equal responsibility for her estate. That said, you can sign a Renunciation if you wish to resign from the role.’

  The guardian named Tiger (a ridiculous nickname for a man in his fifties, she thought) seemed to shift uncomfortably in his seat and then cast a sidelong glance around the room at the others, but when he failed to catch anyone else’s eye he turned back to look at her and did not speak.

  The solicitor’s eyes were drawn to the one called Hope. The woman was outstandingly attractive and consequently quite mesmerising. The solicitor was reminded of a tall tank of luminescent jellyfish that she’d once seen in an aquarium. Beautiful, but ever so slightly threatening. Now, though, the woman’s brow was creased, and her mouth not quite closed as her eyes flicked around the others. Where Tiger looked irritated by the news, the word the solicitor would choose for Hope was baffled.

  She continued.

  ‘Now, on to more practical matters. Obviously, as Romany here is now of age, she could live alone. However, in light of her being in her final year of school, Angie was keen that someone should move into their flat to help support her.’

  Now they looked anxious, mouths tightening and sidelong glances being cast as they played through the possible options in their heads. The solicitor could almost see their minds whirring as they thought up excuses as to why this might not be practicable for them. She was tempted to let them sweat a little longer. Her days in the office were very long and generally uneventful, and making people to whom she had no duty of care squirm a little might add a touch of spice. But then again, she did feel sorry for the poor girl. This was her life, after all. She pressed on.

  ‘Angie has requested that Tiger should move into her flat for the next year whilst Romany finishes her education. She hoped that Romany will take up a place at university next September and then will no longer need anyone to live with her. The arrangement would be rent-free, as Angie left funds to cover the mortgage payments. There is also money to cover basic utilities, food and other household expenses for Romany and from which you, as a householder, would also benefit.’

  Maggie’s expression suggested that she thought Tiger had very much fallen on his feet with this proposal, but Tiger seemed to have other ideas.

  ‘Hang on,’ he said, sitting up in his seat, suddenly alert. ‘Angie said what? That I’d move in? Well, that’s a total non-starter. There’s no way . . . I mean, what was she thinking? I can’t do that. Of course I can’t.’

  His eyes flicked around the room, desperately looking for support from the others, but they sat in silence – no doubt, the solicitor thought, delighted that this particular imposition had not landed at their feet.

  ‘I’ve got stuff to do, you know?’ he continued to protest. ‘Places to be. I’m supposed to go to Guatemala to meet some buddies next month and then I was planning on heading down to South Africa for Christmas. Does she really expect me just to drop all my plans to babysit her daughter? And for a YEAR! It’s ridiculous.’ He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, as if this was the final word on the subject.

  Romany was sitting very still, clearly not wanting to draw attention to herself, the daughter in need of a babysitter. One by one the others seemed to remember that she was present, and glances passed between Maggie and Leon before Leon spoke.

  ‘Come on, Tiger,’ he said in a low voice. ‘Think of where you are. This isn’t the time.’

  For a moment Tiger looked irritated, but then he softened. ‘Look, I’m sorry, Romany. I know none of this is your fault, but you can see how it is. It’s just not practical. I’m a free spirit, you know. I’ve never even had a place in England. I just come and go as the mood takes me. That’s how it’s always been. Your mum knew that. I thought she understood.’

  Romany nodded but she didn’t lift her eyes from her shoes. The solicitor was beginning to question the wisdom of having her present at this meeting at all, but her client had been insistent about that, too.

  ‘It’s okay,’ the girl said, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘I’ll be fine on my own. Like the solicitor lady said, I am over eighteen and Mum has left me the money I’ll need. Really. Please don’t worry about me. You can call in when you’re around to make sure I’m okay. And you can tell me about your travels. I’d love to hear where you’ve been.’ She gave Tiger a valiant smile. Oh, she was one tough cookie, this one.

  ‘Thanks, love,’ he said, as if this was a decision made. Relief was radiating from him like the stench of stale sweat from a runner.

  The solicitor pondered. Whilst she and her client had discussed the possibility of her friends rejecting her requests, Angie had been so adamant that it wouldn’t happen that they had failed to make a contingency plan. Now a mild but growing sense of unease was taking root. This whole situation was so unusual that she really had no feel for how best to proceed. Romany was of age so there was no practical problem if Tiger refused to move in, but it did render Angie’s statement of wishes somewhat superfluous.

  She was about to comment when Leon spoke.

  ‘That’s just not good enough, Tiger,’ he said, his harsh tone at odds with his rather mouse-like appearance. ‘Angie wanted you to stay with Romany and the least you can do is try to make that happen. It’s only for a year, whilst she finishes her A levels. It’s hardly a life-long commitment.’

  ‘Well, I don’t see you offering to move in,’ Tiger snapped back.

  ‘I’d do it in a heartbeat,’ Leon replied, ‘but it’s not as easy for me. I work away a lot, and long hours too. It just wouldn’t be practical. You’ve got no job, no partner, no ties. It’s like you’ve always said, you are free to go where the wind blows you.’

  The solicitor saw Maggie roll her eyes.

  ‘And for a while,’ Leon continued, ‘that needs to be here in York, in Angie’s flat.’

  ‘But that’s the point!’ said Tiger, frustration making him sound more like a child than a man in his fifties. ‘I need to be free to roam, man. It’s who I am.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ muttered Maggie.

  ‘Look,’ interrupted Hope. ‘I know I’m the outsider in this merry little gang, but could I make a suggestion?’

  They all turned to look at her as if they had forgotten she was there at all. The solicitor was unclear how Hope fitted in. From the confusion on her face, it was obvious that she didn’t understand it either. She was younger than the other three, in her thirties to their fifties, and she was beautiful in a way that would mak
e you turn and stare like you might if you saw a zebra clip-clopping down the high street. Everything about her looked as if it had been formed with purpose and great care, her eyes just the right size and shape, her nose just pointed enough but not too much so. Her hair shone with health and her skin actually glowed as if she had had a filter applied over her face.

  She was seated a little apart from the others. Was that because she was an outsider, or had there been an argument, the solicitor wondered, some rift that had happened just off stage and away from her view? Perhaps it was her beauty that they found off-putting? The solicitor had read in a magazine that beautiful people sometimes found it hard to make friends – how her heart ached for them, the poor little darlings. But perhaps that was the case here. She had their attention now, though.

  ‘You said . . . Tiger . . .’ Hope seemed to hesitate over his name as if she, like the solicitor, found it mildly risible. ‘You said that you were meeting friends abroad next month. So, why don’t you move into Angie’s flat just for the time being? Then, when you need to go on your trip we can look at how the land is lying and decide what to do next.’

  ‘That’s a good idea,’ said Leon. ‘Thanks, er . . .’ He paused, searching for her name. ‘Hope?’

  So, they didn’t know each other, the solicitor thought. This really was the most peculiar arrangement.

  Tiger stuck his bottom lip out as he thought about Hope’s proposal and then, finding nothing to object to it in, nodded his head. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘That could work. And I suppose it’d be good not to have to sofa-surf until then. All right. I’ll do it.’

  ‘It’s not that big a deal,’ muttered Maggie under her breath. Tiger didn’t appear to hear her or if he did, he chose to ignore her comment.

  She was sharp, that one, the solicitor thought, and from what she had seen, an unlikely friend for Angie who, from their meetings, had seemed much more easy-going. She wondered briefly how the pair had ended up being close enough for Angie to ask this enormous favour of her. In fact, what was asked was more than a favour. Angie had given each of these four a chunk of the responsibility for the thing that was most precious to her in the world – Romany. It was a huge ask, whichever way you looked at it.