Nicole could actually see the matchmaking gleam in her mother’s eye. ‘Mum, we’re just friends.’ She didn’t want to admit that they’d never actually met and Clarence wasn’t even his real name; she knew what conclusion her mother would draw. That Nicole was an utter coward. And there was a lot of truth in that: Nicole was definitely a coward when it came to relationships. She’d been burned badly enough last time to make her very wary indeed.
‘You are allowed to date again, you know,’ Susan said gently. ‘Yes, you picked the wrong one last time—but don’t let that put you off. Not all men are as spineless and as selfish as Jeff.’
It was easier to smile and say, ‘Sure.’ Though Nicole had no intention of dating Clarence. Even if he was available, she didn’t want to risk losing his friendship. Wanting to switch the subject away from the abject failure that was her love life, Nicole asked, ‘So did you grow up in Surrey Quays, Mum?’
‘Back when it was all warehouses and terraced houses, before they were turned into posh flats.’ Susan nodded. ‘We lived on Mortimer Gardens, a few doors down from the cinema. Those houses were knocked down years ago and the land was redeveloped.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything when I moved here?’
Susan shrugged. ‘You were having a hard enough time. You seemed happy here and you didn’t need my baggage weighing you down.’
‘So all this time I was living just round the corner from my grandparents? I could’ve passed them every day in the street without knowing who they were.’ The whole thing made her feel uncomfortable.
‘Your grandmother died ten years ago,’ Susan said. ‘When they moved from Mortimer Gardens, they lived at the other end of Surrey Quays from you, so you probably wouldn’t have seen Brian, either.’
Which made Nicole feel very slightly better. ‘Did you ever work at the cinema?’
‘When I was a teenager,’ Susan said. ‘I was an usherette at first, and then I worked in the ticket office and the café. I filled in and helped with whatever needed doing, really.’
‘So you would probably have ended up running the place if you hadn’t had me?’ Guilt flooded through Nicole. How much her mother had lost in keeping her.
‘Having you,’ Susan said firmly, ‘is the best thing that ever happened to me. The moment I first held you in my arms, I felt this massive rush of love for you and that’s never changed. You’ve brought me more joy over the years than anyone or anything else. And I don’t have a single regret about it. I never have and I never will.’
Nicole blinked back the sudden tears. ‘I love you, Mum. And I don’t mean to bring back bad memories.’
‘I love you, too, and you’re not bringing back bad memories,’ Susan said. ‘Now, let’s order dinner. And then we’ll talk strategy and how you’re going to deal with this.’
A plate of pasta and a glass of red wine definitely made Nicole feel more human.
‘There’s a lot about the cinema on the Surrey Quays website. There’s a whole thread with loads of pictures.’ Nicole flicked into her phone and showed a few of them to her mother.
‘Obviously I was born in the mid-sixties so I don’t remember it ever being called The Kursaal,’ Susan said, ‘but I do remember the place from the seventies on. There was this terrible orange and purple wallpaper in the foyer. You can see it there—just be thankful the photo’s black and white.’ She smiled. ‘I remember queuing with my mum and my friends to see Disney films, and everyone being excited about Grease—we were all in love with John Travolta and wanted to look like Sandy and be one of the Pink Ladies. And I remember trying to sneak my friends into Saturday Night Fever when we were all too young to get in, and Brian spotting us and marching us into his office, where he yelled at us and said we could lose him his cinema licence.’
‘So there were some good times?’ Nicole asked.
‘There are always good times, if you look for them,’ Susan said.
‘I remember you taking me to the cinema when I was little,’ Nicole said. ‘Never to the Electric Palace, though.’
‘No, never to the Electric Palace,’ Susan said quietly. ‘I nearly did—but if Brian and Patsy weren’t going to be swayed by the photographs I sent of you on every birthday and Christmas, they probably weren’t going to be nice to you if they met you, and I wasn’t going to risk them making you cry.’
‘Mum, that’s so sad.’
‘Hey. You have the best godparents ever. And we’ve got each other. We didn’t need them. We’re doing just fine, kiddo. And life is too short not to be happy.’ Susan put her arm around her.
‘I’m fine with my life as it is,’ Nicole said.
Susan’s expression said very firmly, Like hell you are. But she said, ‘You know, it doesn’t have to be a cinema.’
‘What doesn’t?’
‘The Electric Palace. It says here on that website that it was a ballroom and an ice rink when it was first built—and you could redevelop it for the twenty-first century.’
‘What, turn it back into a ballroom and an ice rink?’
‘No. When you were younger, you always liked craft stuff. You could turn it into a craft centre. It would do well around here—people wanting to chill out after work.’ Susan gave her a level look. ‘People like you who spend too many hours behind a corporate desk and need to do something to help them relax. Look how popular those adult colouring books are—and craft things are even better when they’re part of a group thing.’
‘A craft centre.’ How many years was it since Nicole had painted anything, or sewn anything? She missed how much she enjoyed being creative, but she never had the time.
‘And a café. Or maybe you could try making the old cinema a going concern,’ Susan suggested. ‘You’re used to putting in long hours, but at least this time it’d be for you instead of giving up your whole life to a job you hate.’
Nicole almost said, ‘That’s what Clarence suggested,’ but stopped herself in time. She didn’t want her mother knowing that she’d shared that much with him. It would give Susan completely the wrong idea. Nicole wasn’t romantically involved with Clarence and didn’t intend to be. She wasn’t going to be romantically involved with anyone, ever again.
‘Think about it,’ Susan said. ‘Isn’t it time you found something that made you happy?’
‘I’m perfectly happy in my job,’ Nicole lied.
‘No, you’re not. You hate it, but it makes you financially secure so you’ll put up with it—and I know that’s my fault because we were so poor when you were little.’
Nicole reached over the table and hugged her. ‘Mum, I never felt deprived when I was growing up. You were working three jobs to keep the rent paid and put food on the table, but you always had time for me. Time to give me a cuddle and tell me stories and do a colouring book with me.’
‘But you’re worried about being poor again. That’s why you stick it out.’
‘Not so much poor as vulnerable,’ Nicole corrected softly. ‘My job gives me freedom from that because I don’t have to worry if I’m going to be able to pay my mortgage at the end of the month—and that’s a good thing. Having a good salary means I have choices. I’m not backed into a corner because of financial constraints.’
‘But the hours you put in don’t leave you time for anything else. You don’t do anything for you—and maybe that’s what the Electric Palace can do for you.’
Nicole doubted that very much, but wanted to avoid a row. ‘Maybe.’
‘Did the solicitor give you the keys?’
Nicole