The Second Chance Shoe Shop Read Online Free Page A

of two. I feel blessed to have her.
    Sadie paused for a moment, remembering when Ross had died. For a long while, she didn’t know if he would be coming home again, and whether it might be the last time she would see him at the hospice. She’d been on constant alert, waiting for the call. She didn’t want him to pass away without her having the chance to say goodbye.
    She’d needed Esther to be there too. Both sets of parents thought she was too young but Sadie was adamant that she stayed until the end. Esther had been only five but Sadie had needed her there. She knew she was being selfish, but she hoped one day that their daughter would take comfort from it, that she was with her daddy when he died.
    Her shoulders drooped. Everyone said it would get easier with time. It hadn’t, but to the outside world she was getting over it. People were even asking her when she was going to find someone new. As if that would help erase her pain.
    She continued to read the words she had written the night before:
    I’m dreading the anniversary of his death − what do other people do on those days? Do I take Esther out, maybe somewhere Ross and I used to go? Share memories of the past? Or do I make new memories for her? Or get photos of Ross out and create a collage, or something? What do I do?
    Somehow it helped Sadie to cope if she wrote down her feelings. It was better than spilling it all on the Grieve Together website that she had joined. She’d been a member of the site for a few months now, anonymously, of course, going by the name of Clara Goodwin. She never mentioned any personal details and no one knew Esther’s name either, just that ‘Clara’ had a young daughter.
    After a few more minutes she decided to log on to the site to see if her friend Tanya had replied to the last private message she’d sent her. Yes, there it was:
    Tanya: I think it’s best that we grieve for however long we need to, don’t you? We are over it when we are over it, and if that is never, then that is fine too. Maybe we will move on, but for now, being in limbo is okay.
    Sadie found herself nodding to the empty room. Tanya was a widow too, and they’d formed a bond, often chatting in private rather than for everyone else to see.
    Hearing footsteps above her, she closed down her laptop as Esther thundered down the stairs.
    ‘Mummy!’ Esther ran towards her with her arms outstretched.
    ‘Morning, poppet.’ Sadie gave her a hug and picked her up to sit on her knee. ‘What would you like for breakfast today?’
    ‘Toast and strawberry jam.’
    ‘Toast and strawberry jam . . . ?’
    Esther nodded vehemently, her brown curly hair, like her mum’s, bobbing up and down. Long lashes framed wide brown eyes that reminded Sadie of Ross every time she looked into them. She was a happy child, despite losing one parent at such a young age.
    Sadie looked at her but didn’t speak.
    ‘Oh!’ cried Esther. ‘Toast and strawberry jam, please!’
    ‘Good girl.’ Sadie put her down on the floor again. ‘Right, let’s get you dressed, fed and watered and then we’re out of here.’
    ‘Morning, Daddy.’ Esther waved at the urn which took pride of place on the hearth.
    Sadie wrinkled her nose. Talking to the urn was a habit that Esther had developed and, although it made Sadie feel uncomfortable, she was hoping Esther would just grow out of it. Christine thought Sadie was mad to leave the urn on display, but it had been something that Ross had asked. ‘Burn me up and keep me on the hearth,’ he’d told Sadie when she’d been on one of her regular hospital visits. She remembered batting away his comment, saying that he would have to live forever because he couldn’t leave them to fend for themselves. He’d left them barely six months later − a very painful six months for Ross. Sadie had suffered a different kind of pain ever since.

    D an woke to the sound of his phone. Eyes still closed, he reached across to the side of the bed and fumbled