Chapter Three
Looking at the snow globe almost makes me want to go to Prague. I sit down with it in my hands, gazing into it as if it is some kind of crystal ball and I am mesmerised by its magic. This snow globe is absolutely beguiling. I had quite fancied travelling to Prague with Craig whenever I saw a special offer come up at the travel agent. It always seemed like something out of a fairy tale with its big castles, flowing rivers and beautiful scenery. But I remind myself that I have a river right outside my door, and there is a castle not too far away that I could visit if I wanted to. In some ways, Prague might not be that different to Wales. So, you see, Aunt Grace, I don’t need to leave my country.
I am admiring the details of the castle with its miniscule turrets when the phone rings. I have never had as many phone calls as in the past few days. I may end up unplugging it at this rate.
Nervously, I pick up the phone. Holding it like a lethal snake once again.
‘Hello?’
I hope it isn’t Charlotte asking for the uniform to be returned urgently by post. I haven’t worked up the courage to go to the post office, or even ask Ken if he can help, yet.
‘Ms Edwards, it’s Dewi. Now, did you receive the snow globe okay?’
‘Umm, yes.’ I had to sign for it, so surely he knows I have received it. How much did Aunt Grace pay this man? I know he said that he knew her well, but Dewi must have over-charged her on the legal fees to be this attentive.
‘And what did you think?’
‘Well, I’ve loved it since I first saw it at my aunt’s house. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen it.’
‘No, of course. But Prague. Isn’t the castle beautiful, with the snow? Surely, you’d love to go and see it. For free, I mean… What an offer your aunt has given you.’
Surely, solicitors don’t have time to persuade people to do something they don’t want to. What is it with this man?
‘We have castles in Wales,’ I remind him.
‘Oh, but imagine the smell of chestnuts in the air… I believe they roast chestnuts at all those lovely Christmas markets. You can’t say it isn’t perfect timing that this opportunity has come along?’
Of course, it sounds beautiful, and I could certainly do with some money in my dwindling bank account but, still, the thought of leaving Willow River Mill for a few days is just too much.
‘I’m not really a Christmas person these days.’
‘I don’t understand that. Your lovely aunt was full of Christmas spirit. I always remember when the post office was open in Bethlehem, she used to go up especially for her Christmas cards to be franked with the Bethlehem stamp. That’s how much Christmas meant to her.’
Bethlehem is a little farming village not far from here, and it always amused me the lengths Aunt Grace would go to for her Christmas cards. Emotions come flooding back as I remember the fond memory. The post office has now closed, and she was so disappointed the first year she couldn’t post her cards from there.
‘Yes, well, I do remember that.’
‘A little Christmas cheer goes a long way. Things like that are what people remember.’
‘Yes, indeed.’
‘You know, I don’t mean to speak out of turn—’
‘But you will.’ I interrupt. It’s a good job I respect my elders, or I would probably put the phone down.
‘Yes. I’m sorry, maybe it’s the solicitor in me that can be a bit blunt. But your aunt was a lovely lady. A pillar of the community, shall we say. She did things for everyone else, putting herself last, and I just think you should do this one small thing for her.’
After reading her letter, I realise that she did more than most. Choosing to take in her sick mother-in-law and sacrificing her own happiness with the man she fell in love with is off the scale when it comes to putting other people first. Aunt Grace would do anything for anyone, and I am only too aware that I’m refusing to fulfil her dying wish.
‘You don’t understand my situation.’
‘Try me.’
Can I reach out to a complete stranger, who can be annoying and persistent, and tell him that I have withdrawn from everyone and everything since Craig walked out that night? Should I tell him how the thought of receiving pitiful looks from people we knew as a couple would be too much to bear? How I am terrified of bumping into Craig and his new wife and how grateful I am for online shopping so that I can remain a recluse? Maybe it was the shock that turned me into the loner I have become. I don’t know. I haven’t told a soul how I truly feel. But at this moment, I consider that I can trust someone and tell the truth. Plus, he might then give this Prague business a rest if I am honest with him. If Aunt Grace trusted him, perhaps I can too. But I also know if I tell someone how I feel, they might think I am being silly. What will he think of me when he learns the real reason for my refusal to do anything?
‘Come on. What’s the problem with Prague?’
‘I don’t want to leave the house, okay.’
‘So, you’re saying that you’re agoraphobic?’
‘Well, not really, no. It’s just that it’s too peoply out there. I know that’s not a word. I just find I would rather stay home and live a quiet life. I have a beautiful home, so why go out into all that hustle and bustle?’
‘So, you don’t work any longer?’
‘No.’
‘I know this is impertinent of me, but if you don’t leave the house and don’t work, how can you manage to keep your home?’
I think back to my latest bank statements. He does have a point.
‘I’ll be okay.’
‘That’s good to hear then. You wouldn’t want to lose your home if you love it so much.’
Lose my home! This thought had never occurred to me. Now that, I couldn’t bear. Until now, my payments from the bank have kept me afloat but I do realise that things will change before too long. Perhaps I can start selling my strawberries and other produce from home. Although, people would have to find the mill for that, and it would mean social interaction.
‘It’s just that obviously, if you had this inheritance, well, you wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that.’
I can see he is trying to win me round, and I begin to wonder if he feels it is easier to persuade me to accept the clause in the will rather than deal with my refusal. Perhaps that is why he is making such an effort with me.
‘I know, but it’s not about the money. If I don’t want to leave the house, then all the money in the world isn’t going to make a difference.’
‘It will make a difference if the bailiffs end up coming round. Look, would it help if you spoke to a doctor about your problem about going out? I know someone wonderful you can speak to if you like.’
‘I don’t need help; I just need to be left alone.’ Why can’t people understand I choose to live like this? I enjoy my own company and am perfectly fine.
‘Maybe that’s the problem. You’ve been left alone too long.’
‘I don’t want to talk about this any longer. You’re supposed to be my aunt’s solicitor, this conversation isn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have said anything.’
‘Look, it’s just your aunt warned me I would have to be pushy. Just think about it all. Please say you’ll do that, at least. Don’t dismiss it. She gave you one month to do this. The deadline is 20 December. I could even book your travel for the latest possible day if you like so that you have time to psych yourself up for it. You could fly back on Boxing Day. It isn’t like I’m asking you to go next week.’
‘No, I can’t do that date. It would be far too close to Christmas.’
‘Oh, are you busy over Christmas then?’
I think about how it will be just me sitting here alone with my beans on toast.
‘Yes, I might have plans.’
‘Surely, there can’t be anything better than spending Christmas in snowy Prague, sipping mulled wine, doing touristy excursions. Why don’t you let me book this? You’ll have plenty of time until you have to go and it means I can put this file down and get on with some of my other work.’
Pushed into a corner, I say something I know I will regret. What happened to me trying to be firm with people and wanting to stop making excuses?
‘Okay, just book it then. But if something better comes along, then I will be cancelling.’ I will work out what excuses I can come up with nearer the time.
‘You drive a hard bargain, Ms Edwards. I shall book it right away. Your aunt chose a stunning hotel to put you up in; you won’t regret it. I’ll send over all the details.’
‘It’s not certain I’ll go, you know,’ I remind him.
I put the phone down, relieved that at least I have got Dewi out of my hair for today. But, as I look at the calendar on the kitchen wall, I realise the date will quickly arrive. I’ll have to think of something soon.
After my conversation with Dewi, I need fresh air to clear my head, so I go back into the garden that I love so much. I sit down quietly as I notice a grey squirrel shooting up the old oak tree near the side of the river. I don’t dare move as I watch him scuttling around the branches. I wish I was that nimble. I try to keep supple by doing the garden, but looking at this squirrel makes me feel stiff as a board.
I could sit watching the squirrel for hours, but then I notice something out of the corner of my eye. It is a little robin on the wooden decking. The robin beadily eyes me up and looks at me as if it wants to tell me something. It doesn’t seem interested in the feeders, and I presume it is searching for something juicier. The robin is so tame that I go inside to find some fruit and seeds so I can watch it eat beside me. I rush inside to find something, but by the time I come back out with a chopped piece of apple, the robin is gone. It is as though it was never there, and I begin to wonder if I imagined it. Did it fly off super-fast, or was it some kind of sign? I once read that seeing a robin is meant to be a reminder from someone in heaven to have faith and trust in your future. Was it sent by my parents? But they died years ago, and I have never noticed anything special before, not even when I was in the depths of despair when Craig left. It must be Aunt Grace. What if she sent the little robin to give me a message?
Surely, Aunt Grace couldn’t possibly have sent a robin to my garden out here in the middle of nowhere to tell me to have faith in my future to go on her mission to Prague. I roll my eyes and laugh at myself for being so ridiculous.
It is simply a little robin foraging for food on a cold day, with absolutely no surreptitious Christmas message.