Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Greengate and Greengate, Enya speaking, how may I help you?’
She was certain that long after the firm of solicitors had closed its doors, she would still be saying this in her sleep.
She’d only been settled behind her desk for a minute, Thermos mug of coffee in hand, mentally preparing for the day ahead.
If calls started this early, it was usually an indicator that it was going to be a busy one.
‘Enya, hi, hope it’s okay to call, I got your work number from Aiden. I tried your mobile, but...’
‘Trish, hello!’
Her heart jumped at the unexpected contact, remembering the way Iris’s mother had pointed directly at her and slurred that she was going to be keeping an eye on her.
‘My phone’s probably hidden in my bag somewhere. And of course that’s fine, call any time, although not after September as I won’t be here anymore, none of us will.’
It was easy to trot out the words with a jolly undertone of relief, inviting comments about her becoming a lady of leisure and all other associated clichés.
She’d had a plan to go into business with Jenny, invest, learn, and spend time with her best friend.
It would have been perfect. The memory of Jenny leaving on Saturday night, spitting lava and hurt as she did so, still sat behind her eyelids.
Her new stance to encourage strength and self-reliance made no allowance for the way her heart lurched.
The truth was, she would miss it here. All of it: the two sweet men who she had never grown close to on account of their position, hers, and the era they belonged to.
She’d miss the generations of families who knew that if the Greengates were handling the matter, they were in safe hands.
But mostly she’d miss the routine, the reason to leave the house, the walk to and from the High Street, even the sweet fatigue that came after a day of office work.
It was therefore vital she found a new job and soon; whiling away her days in a melancholy state while she watered that infernal plant in the hallway wouldn’t do at all.
‘Yes, Aiden said retirement was on the cards.’
Retirement? It was one of those words that struck her as funny and entirely misused when it referred specifically to her. A word for old people, old people like widows.
‘Is everything okay, Trish?’
‘Everything’s fine – well, as fine as it can be when you’re running around like a headless chicken trying to organise a wedding in whistle-stop time and no one else on the planet seems to share your urgency.’
This Enya took personally; was it a dig, was she being accused of not sharing the urgency , let alone the workload? As per her new MO, she kept her voice steady, a woman in control!
‘Can I do anything? As I’ve already said, I’m more than happy to get involved.’
She tried to strike the balance between offering help and forcing herself on the woman or making her feel like she was hijacking part of the process, while making it clear she was not about to let Iris’s mother ladle guilt over her.
‘Oh, let me have a think, maybe, erm, we might need a hand with collecting a couple of bits from Bristol when they’re ready. I’m thinking the place-name holders that Iris has ordered and a board thing with pegs on for photos, that might be good.’
‘Great, just let me know where and when and I’ll go fetch them.’
‘That’d be brill.’
There was a moment of awkwardness where Enya wasn’t sure if she should fill the silence or whether Trish was about to speak.
‘Reason for the call,’ Trish swallowed, ‘I was wondering if you fancied meeting up for a coffee?’
‘Oh! I’d love to.’
This wasn’t strictly true, she was about two parts trepidation and one part love at the prospect. Instantly, she wondered what Trish wanted to say and prayed it was not to discuss Dominic.
‘Great, don’t suppose you’re free later, after work? I’m out and about and I could nip by, is there somewhere to go for coffee where you are?’
Enya looked out over the High Street, which might not have all mod cons but could boast a decent coffee shop or two, a deli with a reasonable cheese counter and a rack of crisps whose price tags could rival those of any fancy store, Jenny’s florist’s, of course, and a lovely bookshop. What more did they need?
‘Yes, that sounds great. I wish I could say I have to cancel my many plans, but my diary is depressingly empty, as ever.’
‘You should join a club.’
The woman’s suggestion was a little left field.
‘What kind of club?’ She was curious.
‘I don’t know... badminton? Or, or do a class, pottery, or something?’
‘Yes, I’ll think about it.’ This would make Angela roar, she was certain. ‘Do you belong to any clubs or do any classes, Trish?’ Her new assertive stance urged the question from her lips.
The way Iris’s mother howled her laughter in response spoke volumes. ‘Oh, God no!’
‘So what time do you want to meet up?’ Enya thought it prudent to change the subject.
‘I can be with you by five?’
‘Great, see you then.’
‘Yep, see you then, Enya.’
No sooner had she put the phone down than it rang again almost immediately. ‘Greengate and Greengate, Enya speaking, how may I help you?’
‘Mum . . . Mum, it’s me.’
‘Goodness me, well, aren’t I popular this morning! You got back to Bath okay yesterday? It was lovely to see you.’
‘Yeah, easy journey. God, that feels like, I don’t know, feels like it could have been weeks ago that we sat at the table and you made my breakfast.’
She could tell by his tone, in the way you could with someone you loved and were close to, that all was not well. ‘What’s up, kiddo?’
‘Um...’ He took his time. ‘I told her. I told Iris last night. Told her about the baby, about Holly being pregnant. It was really, um...’
She heard him take a stuttered breath.
‘It’s okay, love. Just go slow, take deep breaths, and go slow.’
She had softened her tone and slowed her own pace, hoping he might follow suit, giving his thoughts a chance to catch up with everything that clearly whirred in his brain, while she braced herself to hear the fallout from his discussion with Iris, knowing it could be anything from complete forgiveness and understanding to ‘the wedding is off’!
It was impossible not to reflect on the fact that they had only known each other for such a short time and that the novelty of new, great sex, and all the excitement of the whirlwind could only carry them so far.
Instantly, she felt mean for thinking it; maybe she was just an old cynic.
An old cynic with a whole marriage under my belt who understands what a lifetime of commitment means...
‘I told her the moment I got back to The Mount. We went outside and I just said it. I told her that I loved her and that I never expected to meet someone like her. I said she was the single best thing that’s ever happened to me, which is the truth.
She was so happy, Mum, beaming at me, looking at me like she was looking into me.
Do you know what I mean, when it’s more than just a look, it’s a connection. ’
‘Uh-huh.’
Enya pictured Dominic sitting on the other side of the dining table in the kitchen, and she understood.
She did indeed know the look; a similar one she and Jonathan had perfected over decades of practice, a look embedded in trust, one that came with a shared history.
Yet with Dominic it had seemed almost instinctive, an illusion no doubt.
‘So, what did she say, darling?’
Enya trod the tricky path between wanting to give him time to speak freely while also acutely aware that she was at work.
The clock was literally ticking, and Messrs Greengate and Greengate would at any moment be popping their wiry heads around the door to greet her with a joyous Good morning, Enya!
before disappearing into their respective offices, where she worried one day she might hear a call for help as a teetering mountain of foolscap files actually toppled over on to them.
There were worse ways to go. She thought now of the lingering loneliness and her fading presence in her neighbourhood, a desperate concept.
Wondering if it were possible that she might become smoke and disappear altogether, no more than a trick of the light.
.. she would not let that happen. She would not, there would be a job for her somewhere after this, and never again would she be made to feel like a criminal in her own home.
It bothered her still, Maeve’s tuts of disapproval, Jenny’s anger; it was as misplaced as it was infuriating.
‘I was staring at her, and it was like I could see every bit of her face in detail, and she looked so happy. And just as hard as what I had to say was knowing how my words were going to make her feel. That I was going to deliberately pull the plug on her happiness. I was going to intentionally say something that would hurt her, the thing I’d sworn I would never do, and it was the worst feeling in the world. ’
Enya bit her lip to avoid asking if it was worse than leaving Holly alone and broken while he chose ribbons and red velvet cake and pondered what music might be played as he tripped the light fantastic on the dance floor with his bride in his arms?
But of course she didn’t, because that was unfair and was only a private fleeting uncomfortable thought, the kind that was definitely best not to share.