Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
We walked a little further, then I checked the time.
‘I have to get back – the doctor will be here to see Marilise soon and I must make sure she’s ready.’
We kissed goodbye and I hurried back to the house, glad to have something to take my mind off the situation with Nick.
Was he right? Was I contemplating driving myself into something I didn’t want to do, and for all the wrong reasons?
I let myself into the house and shook off the thoughts.
I would give them a chance later, but for now I had to attend to Marilise.
The doctor’s visit took longer than I had anticipated as she needed to talk us through a change of medicine that she hoped would allow Marilise more energy.
‘But you’re still not to overdo it,’ she said, smiling. ‘No more than one party a week, and you have to make up for that with extra sleep.’
‘It’s not like the good old days, when one party an evening would have seemed boring,’ said Marilise. ‘But I will take your advice, doctor, thank you.’
I saw the doctor out, then brought Marilise downstairs. She wanted to write some Christmas cards and had left it almost too late to make the last posting day.
‘I’m sure they are very mean about it,’ she grumbled, picking up her pen. ‘There was a time when you could post your cards on Christmas Eve and they would still get there. I suppose you have done yours already?’
‘Not at all,’ I said, grinning. ‘I’m usually lucky if mine get there for New Year.’
‘You surprise me,’ said Marilise. ‘So organised in work.’
‘But not in life?’ I asked.
‘I thought you would have done them on December the first. Well, go and get them now, and keep me company. We can try to remember the names of our friends’ children together.’
I ran upstairs to get the cards I had bought, still sitting unopened in a bag, and my address book. I quickly checked my phone while I was up there, to find a message from Nick:
I’ve gone to see a friend in Exeter who needed help with some work stuff. Back tomorrow xx
Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, I thought, as I jogged back down the stairs. We could probably both do with some space to let things percolate. But my sensible, rational thoughts couldn’t quash the worry and sadness that had taken up residence in my heart.
‘Here they are!’ I said in an overly jolly tone to Marilise. ‘I seem to be sending fewer each year, but it’s still such a chore.’
We sat for nearly an hour writing our cards, then Marilise told me she would prefer supper in her room that evening. I joined her, then decided on an early night – surely a good sleep would make everything clearer?
The next morning, I was in the kitchen preparing the breakfast tray, when Astrid came in.
‘Oh, Laura, good morning. Can you check the time of the girls’ Christmas show this evening? I’m terribly worried I’ve double-booked myself.’
I took out my phone and looked at the calendar, giving a sharp intake of breath when I saw the date.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Astrid. ‘Have you double-booked as well?’
‘No – no, it’s okay,’ I said. ‘The show starts at seven, but I’ll get there earlier and help Sofia get dressed.’
‘You’re an angel,’ said Astrid, heading for the door again. ‘See you later!’
I was glad that it had only been a flying visit, as my legs gave way and I sat down heavily on a chair.
I rubbed at my tightening chest and stared at the floor.
It wasn’t the time that had shocked me, but the date.
The anniversary of Paulo’s death. And I hadn’t realised.
After a few minutes, despite my limbs feeling weak and shaky, I stood up again.
The task of preparing breakfast had suddenly taken on a huge importance where continuing to sit there limp and helpless compounded my self-loathing.
I went through the motions on autopilot, fighting the nausea that was churning in my stomach.
Every year up until now I had today’s date emblazoned on my mind for weeks before it arrived.
Scrupulously, I had set aside time on the actual day to honour his memory, looking at photos and making a donation to the charity that had supported us in his final days.
And this year I had been too distracted by all the trappings of Christmas I had sworn off as well as, of course, Nick, to bother remembering.
I threw the knife I had been using into the sink and picked up the immaculate breakfast tray.
At least I could still do my job properly. The thought brought me little comfort.
I carried the tray upstairs and went through the morning routine with Marilise, trying to be cheerful and professional, but knowing that my voice and behaviour were strained.
Eventually, after fiddling fastidiously with the curtain tiebacks, I sat down and poured tea that I didn’t think I would be able to drink through my constricted throat.
Marilise put her hand on my arm.
‘Laura?’
I jumped.
‘Oh, sorry, let me do your toast.’
‘Let me do my own toast,’ she said gently. ‘Something has upset you; please tell me, if you can.’
I looked into her kind eyes, then dropped mine.
‘I forgot,’ I muttered. ‘I forgot that today is the anniversary of my husband’s death.
’ I raised my eyes again to meet hers, which were full of sympathy.
‘Oh, Marilise, how could I?’ My voice grew harsh with disgust at myself.
‘Look at me, barely into a new relationship and so preoccupied that I forgot Paulo.’
‘But this is natural,’ said Marilise. ‘You have not forgotten, but you were not, perhaps, dwelling as you have done in previous years. That, my dear, is something to celebrate, not berate yourself for. Life – and you – moves on, and that is the right order of things.’
How could I explain to her that ‘dwelling’ was what had sustained me for the past three years, that holding tightly to my feelings for Paulo and my grief at losing him had sometimes been the only way I could stop myself tumbling into an abyss of despair?
Now that I had let go of that rope, would I go into freefall?
‘I’m not ready to move on,’ I said stubbornly. ‘And not as much as Nick seems to want me to, not so quickly. He wants to leave England and roam the world, but I don’t.’
I knew the words were unfair, but they brought me some sort of perverse comfort. Marilise frowned.
‘Are you sure about that?’
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘You saw that estate agent. Nick might not be going to do anything soon, but he’s getting his ducks in a row.
I’m tired of trying to untangle it all. I’m making plans, too.
I’m going to apply for that training today.
Don’t worry,’ I said, seeing her anxious expression.
‘It won’t mean anything for us. I can do the training in the evenings, mostly, and then use it when I need to.
I promise that I will stay with you for as long as you want me. ’
‘I worry little for myself,’ said Marilise. ‘Although I would be very sorry if you were to go. I worry more for you. This seems a quick decision, one that you are making through your emotions. Please give it some time – maybe you will feel different soon.’
I shook my head. The truth was that making a plan was the only way I could alleviate the turbulent feelings that were churning around inside me. When my mind turned to Nick, I felt worse; I could soothe myself with a sensible plan, even if it might not be my dream life.
‘Very well, you must do what you think is right, but I hope you give Nick a chance, a real chance.’
‘I am,’ I said, hoping myself that I would be properly able to. I changed the subject. ‘Are you looking forward to the girls’ Christmas show tonight?’
She accepted this turnaround gracefully and did not bring up Nick or the maternity nurse training again that day. We had our usual swim and in the afternoon started a game of Monopoly.
‘I can see why you wanted to play,’ I said, regarding my thin collection of properties in comparison to her bulging portfolio. ‘You’re ruthless!’
‘But don’t give up, Laura,’ she urged me. ‘You can still come back, with courage and a little skill.’
‘I would love to,’ I said, glancing at my watch. ‘But it’s time I got to the school. I’m taking the girls for a snack before we have to go back and get ready for the performance. Maybe Angela could take over for me?’
‘I know better than to do that,’ said an amused voice from behind me. It was Angela. ‘I’ve played Monopoly against Marilise before, and I’ve only just recovered. You go, Laura, and we’ll see you at the school at seven.’
Sofia was excited to see me and bounced around, begging to go to a coffee shop that one of her friends had talked about.
I didn’t know where it was, but India did, and soon we were all sipping large hot chocolates and eating white chocolate chip cookies.
We returned to the school about an hour later, when India went to find her own costume and Sofia showed me where her classroom was, down a long, oak-lined corridor, which was unlike any school I’d ever seen.
‘It looks more like someone’s house,’ I said, as she pushed open a heavy wooden door.
‘It used to be,’ she said, as we entered the classroom, which had the desks and wall displays I would have expected, but also a large fireplace and marble mantelpiece behind the teacher’s desk.
‘It got made into a school about seventy years ago. It’s much nicer than my usual school. Look, this is where I sit.’
I was given a guided tour of the desk’s contents as the room filled up with other small, chattering girls and slightly bemused adults, and then she skipped off to some pegs at the back of the room and returned with a carrier bag.
‘This is my costume. I need help doing up the ribbons and then my hair and stuff.’