Chapter 2
2
Having settled the bird and left it water, Jade locked up the converted pigsty, which she referred to lightly as ‘the hospital block’, and went to collect the white roses she’d abandoned by her front door. Then she strolled along the quiet roads past untidy hedges that spilled out like overgrown mops of hair, revelling in the peace and enjoying the clear honey-coloured light of the September evening.
Ten minutes later, she was letting herself through the lichen-covered gate of the churchyard, aware of the small wooden thud as it swung shut behind her. She walked slowly along the mossy cobbled path between the graves. It seemed rude to run through a cemetery, disrespectful somehow, and however much she longed for this visit to be over, she didn’t want to offend anyone. These people, whose headstones rose higgledy-piggledy from the ground on either side of her, seemed almost like friends, their names were so familiar, and she’d often wondered about their lives.
There was a newish headstone, close to the path, which she always noticed because it had been erected just after she’d started coming here.
Benjamin and Evie McTaggart
Together Again
From the dates, it looked as though Evie had died a few weeks after her husband. How sad. There was a pot of wilting yellow carnations, which seemed out of place somehow, more of a wedding flower.
Jade paused to trail her fingers over the twin cherubs on their final resting place. She knew she was putting off the moment of confrontation. Silly to still think of it as a confrontation, yet a year of coming here hadn’t made things any more bearable than they’d been in the beginning.
Sighing, she continued on until she was in one of the most peaceful parts of the cemetery, shaded as it was by a giant oak. Its leaves were caught halfway between summer and autumn. Soon they would fall, but for now they shone gloriously orange in the liquid golden light that preceded sunset.
She halted, her heart pounding, by the gleaming milk-white headstone with its marble angel, wings folded peacefully and head bowed, eyes cast forever downwards.
Elizabeth Foster
16 September 1969–21 September 2023
Rest In Peace
Such a simple epitaph for such a complex woman, Jade had thought at the time, but she’d been unable to think of anything else to say. She’d always had trouble knowing what to say to her mother. And when she’d died so unexpectedly of a stroke just before her fifty-fourth birthday, it had suddenly been too late for words.
‘Hi, Mum,’ she whispered, pausing for a few moments and feeling a little shiver run across her bare arms. It still felt odd to be talking to a grave, as if her mother could somehow hear her from beneath six feet of soil. And why should she be listening in death, when she had never listened in life, Jade wondered as she knelt on the dusty ground.
She laid the white roses on the grave and stroked their petals, feeling their cool perfection beneath her fingertips. Silken and unscented, so perfect on the outside, but with something vital missing. Like Jade’s childhood had been. She’d had everything she’d ever wanted in material terms. Her own pony, piano lessons, swimming lessons, ice skating lessons and a string of childminders to take the place of her mother, whose hotel business paid for it all. On the outside she’d had an idyllic rural upbringing, which she knew that her school friends, with the exception of her best friend, Sarah, who was far more perceptive than most, had envied madly. But she’d have swapped it all for the chance to have spent more time with her mother instead of being looked after by strangers.
She sat back on the warm ground and hugged her knees to her chest. The Arleston Court Hotel, her mother’s flagship hotel, and also the one where they’d lived, had been a business, not a home. And the biggest regret of her life was that she’d never really known the woman who now lay beneath this Wiltshire soil, and now she never would.
‘The sanctuary’s coming along well,’ she murmured. ‘I rescued a red kite today, a bird of prey – beautiful…’ She tailed off because even as she spoke, she could see the disappointment in he r mother’s dark eyes and hear her voice in her head, contemptuous and impatient. ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Jade. Most people grow out of wanting to save the world when they’re about twelve.’
Guilt washed over her. It left a deep uneasiness in her, even now, knowing that her mother would have been furious that she’d sold the family business – the four hotels, including the flagship Arleston Court – and spent the money on buying a smallholding. This included an old cottage, with five acres of land, stables, and several farm buildings. It had been the perfect place to set up an animal rescue centre.
Jade knew Elizabeth would have scorned her plans, but she’d gone ahead and done it anyway, rebelling after her mother’s death in a way she’d never dared to do while she was alive. She hadn’t spent all of the money. She had a large chunk of it invested too, so maybe she’d inherited some of her mother’s hardheaded business acumen after all.
Now, Jade swiped a stray tear from her eye, not sure whether the hard knot of grief in her chest was down to guilt, or pain because she’d never been allowed to get close to her mother. Never been allowed inside the barriers her mother had erected.
‘Your father would have stayed if it wasn’t for you,’ she’d told Jade once. ‘He never wanted kids. He had big plans. Thought kids would get in the way. Pity he didn’t hang around to see how wrong he was.’ She’d smiled at the young Jade as she’d spoken and with the benefit of hindsight Jade knew her words were intended to be a comfort, not a rejection. But it hadn’t felt like that at the time. Her parents would have stayed together if it hadn’t been for her. That still hurt. It hurt desperately. Especially as her mother had never married again but thrown herself into the business of building her hotel empire, dating periodically, but never getting close to anyone.
Jade let the tears fall for a while. She often cried here when she was alone, although strangely she’d shed no tears at the funeral. Perhaps she was still hoping for absolution, she thought, rising slowly to her feet, wanting desperately to be away from this place of shadows, which seemed to encapsulate all that had been wrong in her life for so long.
She hurried back through the churchyard, her vision so blurred with tears she didn’t see the man until she’d collided with him.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she mumbled, glancing up into startled grey eyes that softened immediately as he looked at her.
‘No problem. Hey, are you all right? No, you’re not, are you?’
It was him, the man who’d stopped to help her earlier. Recognition softened his voice and Jade bit her lip, embarrassed to be caught crying. She wanted to run past, but he was blocking the path so she stayed where she was, trying to sniff inconspicuously and wishing he’d leave her alone.
He looked vaguely familiar. She’d thought so earlier, but now she was less distracted it was more apparent. Perhaps he worked in the village. Perhaps he was one of the business owners she’d approached about sponsorship for Duck Pond Rescue.
It was his eyes, she thought, frowning. His grey eyes were comfortingly familiar, yet she was almost sure they hadn’t met before today.
‘We must stop meeting like this,’ she muttered, trying to bring some levity into the situation, but spoiling it when she had to swipe more tears from her face with the back of her hand because she hadn’t brought a hanky.
‘People will talk.’ He finished the phrase for her, rummaged in his pocket and pulled out a mini pack of tissues. ‘I’m not following you – in case you were wondering – I’ve been visiting my grandparents. They’re in that plot over there.’ He gestured with the tissues and then handed them to her. ‘Here, have these.’
She took the pack, grateful he hadn’t claimed to know how she felt or offered any of the usual platitudes. Practical help she could deal with. Anything else would have felt like an intrusion.
He waited while she blew her nose, not looking at her, but not looking embarrassed either, as if he was quite used to dealing with sobbing women. Even through her distress, she thought how kind he was. She racked her brain to work out why he was so familiar.
‘What did you say your name was?’ she asked when she was in control of herself again.
‘I didn’t. But it’s Finn. Finn McTaggart. I’m not local, although I did spend quite a bit of time down here when I was younger – my grandparents retired here – but Dad and I still live in Nottingham. We’re here to sort out their house and I thought I’d pop by, say hello to them. You know how it is.’
She nodded. ‘I’m Jade Foster. I know your grandparents – well, what I mean is that I know their grave, I pass it every time I come. Yellow carnations. You didn’t lose them long ago…’ She stumbled to a halt, aware of how inane she must sound. He put the carnations there, of course, and she had just trampled like an idiot over his feelings.
‘I’ve been visiting my mum,’ she mumbled, feeling her face burn. ‘It’s a year today since…’ She tailed off, unsure what else to say to him. It felt slightly surreal, standing in the swiftly gathering mosquito-edged dusk crying in front of a stranger. She clutched the pack of tissues, wondering whether she should offer them back. There were only a couple left. ‘Well, thanks for these.’
‘You’re welcome.’ His eyes were sympathetic. ‘And believe me – it does get easier, Jade. I promise.’
‘Right,’ Jade said, touched by his kindness, but anxious to get away. She was beginning to feel supremely embarrassed that he’d seen her in such a state. He’d think she wasn’t capable of looking after herself, let alone running an animal rescue. Annoyed with herself, she looked back into his eyes, her gaze steady.
‘Well, thanks again,’ she muttered, relieved when he moved out of her path. ‘I’d better get going.’