Chapter Eight
With one eye on the clock, keen to leave on time, Enya wiped her hands on her jeans and put the lettuce in the salad crisper. Her phone buzzed with a text from Jenny.
For The Love Of God, Just Take The Goods, Don’t Let Her Bring Them Back Here! I Can’t Face Any More – We’re Drowning In Sugar. Why Can’t She Get A Different Hobby That’s Kinder To My Hips? Delete This Text Immediately!!!!!
Enya was about to re-read the message to try and make more sense of it when a knock on the door drew her from her thoughts. She dashed to open it.
‘Holly! Hello, sweetie. Cup of tea? I was just going to put the kettle on.’
The girl looked flawless, subtle make-up, a shiny, swinging ponytail and toned legs snug inside her leggings. ‘Ooh, yes please. I made these.’
She handed Enya a pale wooden tray lined with a red and white gingham cloth on top of which were piled generously sized, freshly baked blondies that smelled heavenly, and Jenny’s text suddenly became clear.
‘You clever old stick! They look gorgeous!’ And they did.
It was a skill Enya both envied and admired, the way the young woman took such care over everything she baked, everything she made.
It wasn’t enough to whip up items that were moist, delicious and moreish, she would also set them on a cloth or in a basket with handwritten labels and flourishes of ribbon.
Her knitted gifts too, always with a dinky label sewn into them, and delivered wrapped in brown paper and string that put her in mind of days gone by.
It was beautiful and joyful and yet she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Holly had too much time on her hands.
Not that she’d shared this with anyone other than Angela, who had sprayed her laughter and strawberry shortbread crumbs over the front of her dress at the very suggestion.
‘The girl wants a baby, then we’ll see who’s got time for bloody knitting and titting about, she’d be too busy wiping arses, mashing carrots and crying from a lack of sleep!’
‘Sounds like you might be wishing that upon her, Angela. Do I need to remind you we are talking about our little Holly Hudson, who we love dearly? And besides, Aiden has mentioned in the past that babies won’t be on the agenda for a good few years.’
She had felt torn by the revelation, excited at the prospect of grannyhood, especially as it was a road she’d be travelling with Jenny, but also a little relieved that her son was giving himself time to get his life in order, to establish himself, hoping that in these discovery years, he and Holly would find some parity and that the beloved girl would settle down and show the streaks of independence that Enya knew were vital for resilience.
‘Do I need to remind you that it was you who started it?’ Angela had shoved the remainder of Holly’s home-made shortbread into her mouth.
Enya smiled now to think of her sister, hoping she and Frank were having a better time on their break. The last time they’d spoken, it had all sounded a little fraught. A month was a long time to be holed up with their parents, even for Angela, the angel.
‘They’re Aiden’s favourites!’ Holly slipped off her Birkenstocks and Enya was grateful. ‘I’ve missed him so much!’
‘Well, I’ve just put the phone down on him. He sounded tired, but said his flight was on time. I’ll pick him up about sixish.’
‘He didn’t call me ...’ Holly stared into the middle distance, as if it might be the end of the world. ‘I would have gone to get him, but I’ve got this Insta Live thing and it’s been arranged for weeks. I’m going to do it from your kitchen where the light is good, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course it is!’ She had no idea what the event would entail and hoped there’d be no need for redecorating, which seemed to be Holly’s current preoccupation.
‘Thanks, Enya. It’s a collab with an American guy called Columbus. He’s super-talented and makes dog collars, pup jackets, cat clothes and stuff, but we think there’s crossover – his demographic is, you know, cutesy, home-loving, slightly vintage, the Dink market.’
Entirely unsure of how to respond to the words that she recognised, but which made little sense to her, Enya smiled widely. ‘Right. Good.’
She watched Holly make her way into the kitchen. Pickle immediately perked up and gave an elongated stretch, arching her back in a way that looked blissful, before hopping down to slink around the girl’s legs.
‘Hey, little Picks!’ Holly dropped to the floor and patted her outstretched legs. Without the slightest hesitation, Pickle settled on to Holly’s lap and closed her eyes as she was treated to back rubs, tummy tickles, paw holds and even kisses to the top of her pretty head.
‘Did you finish the bedroom?’ She placed the tray of blondies on the countertop and filled the kettle.
‘Nearly! It looks fab, I’m just waiting for the knobs off the chest of drawers to dry, I’ve covered them in pages from old books and clear glue.
The actual drawers I’ve painted in a tea colour, but with the edges distressed, and the knobs will just finish it off.
The whole room has like a vintage ship’s library vibe!
I recorded a time-lapse video of the restoration, got loads of likes. ’
Vintage was obviously the word of the day.
‘Well, that sounds...’ Enya tried to find the words that wouldn’t dull the light of enthusiasm in Holly’s eyes, while trying to disguise her own bewilderment as to why you might want to sleep in a vintage ship’s library.
If Enya had the time or inclination to decorate her own room, she’d do it in the style of a very comfortable bedroom, with the emphasis on extreme cosiness, but what did she know?
Her taste was a little more eclectic. She bought things she liked rather than considering how it might affect the whole.
Jonathan, she remembered, had reached for his sunglasses when she’d placed the bright, bird-embroidered cushions on the raspberry-coloured sofa.
It was also more than simply not having the time or inclination to improve the house since Jonathan had died, but rather that she wanted to leave things just as they were.
This so she could better picture him in their bed, on their sofa, standing right here, leaning against the countertop with his legs crossed at the ankle, waiting for the kettle to boil.
She smiled at him, as Holly fussed over Pickle and the cat purred obligingly. ‘It sounds very you , Holly!’
‘I hope Aiden likes it. Mind you, if he doesn’t, I can change it, a chance to make some content showing that you don’t have to get it right first time.’
‘Good point, yes!’ She had no idea what she was enthusing over.
‘I’ve missed him so much! Can’t wait to see him!’ Holly tensed her arms and legs and beat her feet on the floor with delight. She was giddier than usual, if that were possible. Pickle jumped off.
‘Well, only a couple of hours or so and he’ll have landed. I think even you can wait that long!’ She grabbed the mugs from the wooden mug tree, feeling the unwelcome flicker of irritation at the girl’s besotted display. It had been sweet at first, endearing, but sometimes it smacked of neediness.
‘Only just, Enya. I hate being apart from him.’
‘I know.’ She smothered the unfavourable thoughts that it might be healthier if Holly were not so dependent; what right did she have to judge how they loved? ‘Your mum’s coming over later.’
‘Yeah, she said. Just think, Enya, in a few months you’ll be as boring as her, filling your time with flowers for weddings and funerals!
’ Holly teased. ‘Although I can’t imagine you two getting much done, you’ll be too busy laughing and skiving off for cups of tea.
The business will go bust, but at least you guys will have a good time watching it sink! ’
‘Ha! Your mum has it all very much under control. I’m going to be her apprentice, it’ll take me a while to learn the ropes, but I can’t wait.
’ She felt lifted at the prospect of the challenge ahead, knowing that Jonathan would be delighted that she was using some of the money he’d left to part-own her own business.
‘Talking of weddings, d’you remember a while back I said I wanted a basket of sweet peas to carry up the aisle?’
‘I do indeed.’ It was also a little concerning that Holly had almost planned her entire wedding, despite the fact she and Aiden were not engaged and there had been no mention, as far as Enya was aware, of any impending nuptials.
‘Well, I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to go for lavender with the odd blue thistle and gypsophila, lovely blues to contrast with Aiden’s open-necked, natural linen shirt, what do you think?’
‘Oh.’ What did she think? That to give so much thought to an event that wasn’t even on the horizon was a bit previous.
‘I think whatever you choose, for whenever that is necessary, will all be perfect, because that’s your thing, Holly – making everything look wonderful, inviting. You’ve certainly got the knack.’
‘I need every little detail to be absolutely on point. I want people to take loads of photographs and when they go to work or the pub, to show everyone the pictures and say it was the best wedding they’ve ever been to.’
Pickle turned her head to stare at Holly, before wandering out into the garden.
It was the first time Enya had ever stared at the little creature who sauntered off into the sunshine and envied her, wishing she could crawl across the floor and slip into the garden, off in search of peace and quiet, to feel the sun on her face, just for a minute.