Chapter 27
27
A week or so later, things were back to semi-normal as much as they could be. Cally had been busy at the chemist, continuing with the training course on the distribution system and Logan had gone back to work. After she’d finished work, Cally had realised she’d left her iPad at the cottage before the accident and had decided a walk and some fresh air would do her the world of good to clear her head after a few days of learning the ins and outs of the system. She’d made a hot blackcurrant, taken her time and strolled up to the manor. Having not been to the cottage for a few days, she’d let herself in and was surprised by what hit her; a horrible mess as soon as she stepped in the door.
Cally frowned and shook her head. The cottage was usually cleaned by one of the Manor cleaners from an agency in the next town, but by the way it looked the cleaners had not been near nor by it. Logan’s shoes were strewn in the hallway, his work bag looked as if it had been dropped on the floor, and when she got to the kitchen, she raised her eyebrows. The sink was littered with dirty dishes and a pint of milk on the worktop looked as if it had seen better days. Loads of dirty mugs stood by the kettle, and the kitchen table was scattered with all sorts. The microwave door was open, showing a bowl of congealed baked beans that appeared to have been heated up and then forgotten. A bottle of wine with a third left in the bottom stood with the top off besides a dirty glass. Cally wrinkled her face in surprise. It was not like Logan at all to live like a slob. In fact, he was usually fairly meticulous about things. Right in front of her, she could see grief doing its thing.
Taking off her cardigan and rolling up her shirt sleeves, she got to it right away, opened the dishwasher, started to methodically unload the clean dishes and one by one put them away. As she dumped the baked beans in the bin, turned on the tap and began to rinse the plates and load them neatly into the empty dishwasher, she thought about all that had happened since she’d arrived back from Scotland. The image of Reginald’s face as he’d come through the hospital waiting room door was scorched into the frontal lobe of Cally’s brain. She’d never be able to unsee the unfiltered pain and she hoped that she’d never witness it again in her life. Reg’s face had been half horrified and half shocked. Cally had never seen a look like it. Since then, she’d seen Reginald at the London house and at the manor and he aged twenty years in a few days. He’d appeared as if he was in freefall, flailing around not sure what to do or say. As if he would never hit the ground again. Cecilia wasn’t far behind.
Cally sighed as she removed everything from the worktops on either side of the sink, unplugged the kettle, put it on the kitchen table, and copiously sprayed the sides with kitchen cleaner. Working from the wall out, she systematically cleaned the worktops until they were sparkling, plugged the kettle back in, popped a tablet in the dishwasher, and pressed go. The microwave was not giving off good vibes; she cut up a lemon, squeezed the juice into a bowl of water, dropped it in, closed the door, and pressed the button for three minutes on high. Fiddling with her necklace as she watched the bowl spin around for a second, she puffed a huff out of her lips. At least she was doing something useful in the midst of the terrible time. There was that.
Just as she was taking a bag out to the bins behind the stables, she saw Doreen coming the other way with a jumble of empty recycling containers in her hands.
‘Hey, our Cally. How are you?’
‘Not too bad. You?’
Doreen shook her head and sighed. ‘I’ve been better. Not good times. I’m keeping my head down and staying busy.’
Cally lowered her voice. ‘How are things?’
‘Cecilia is not in a good way. She’s going downhill fast now rather than the other way. Grief is a funny old thing.’
‘Hmm.’
‘What are you doing? How is Logan?’
‘I’m fine. Yeah, Logan is struggling.’
‘I thought so. I saw him yesterday. He didn’t want to talk.’
‘No, it seems to be his way of dealing with it. I came up because I’d left my iPad here a while ago and it’s got a list on it I need.’ Cally gestured in the direction of Logan’s cottage. ‘I’ve spent the last hour cleaning. It was a right mess in there.’
Doreen clucked her tongue. ‘Logan said he didn't want anyone there. It was cleaner day for the cottages today and so I told them not to go in.’
Cally shook her head. ‘I gathered that. It’s very unlike him to be messy. In fact, he’s usually the other way.’
‘Grief does strange things.’
Cally nodded, her heart heavy. 'I suppose it does. I'm worried about him.'
Doreen sighed and put down the recycling containers. 'It's not easy losing someone so suddenly. Especially someone like Alastair. He was always here, there, and everywhere.'
Cally thought about her mum and her grandma. ‘I know. I’ve been through it a couple of times but not like this and as suddenly. I think a lot of it is the shock.’
‘Who would have thought? You just don’t know what’s coming your way, do you?’
'No. Logan’s trying to put on a brave face. He and Alastair were close...’
Doreen nodded. 'They were more like brothers than cousins, I sometimes thought.'
‘From what I saw, I guess so.’
'Thick as thieves when they were little. Always getting into some mischief or other. When they were about eight or nine, they decided they were going to run away and join the circus.'
Doreen chuckled. 'They packed their little rucksacks with sweets and comics, and snuck out in the middle of the night. We found them asleep in the old treehouse by the lake covered in bites.'
‘Aww, sweet.’
Doreen tutted. ‘It’s hard to get your head around it.’
'I wish there was more I could do to help.'
‘You're doing plenty, love. Just being there for him, that's what he needs right now. I mean, what else can you do?'
'Not a lot. How are the funeral preparations coming along? You’ve taken on a lot of that from what Anne said.'
Doreen pressed her lips together. 'As well as can be expected, under the circumstances. They were talking about it being in London, did you hear that? I didn’t think that was a good idea, but it’s not up to me.’
‘Yes. I thought the same.’
‘I’m glad they settled on the church in Lovely for the service. It seemed more fitting in my humble opinion given the family's history with the place.'
'Agree.’
‘The reception in the marquee near the summer house surrounded by the beautiful poppy fields will be nice. If “nice” is a word that can be used in this situation.’
Cally nodded and raised her chin in the direction of the summer house. 'It's a beautiful spot.’
‘Who wouldn’t love those poppy fields, especially when they are in full bloom like this?'
‘True. The funeral is going to be a lot of work.’
Doreen sighed and rubbed her forehead. 'Yes, there are loads coming which is why the marquee is also a good idea in my opinion. The family alone is extensive, as you know, and then there are all of Alastair's friends and colleagues. We're looking at a lot of people turning up, if you ask me.'
‘I reckon so. Do you need any help?’ Cally offered.
‘I might need some help here and there and at the church. Everything here is mostly covered with the staff. I was going to mention it, actually. I just know you’ll get your head down and get on with it. I can’t be doing with any, well, you know what I mean.’
'Of course. Just let me know when and where.'
'I'll let you know the details. I’ll message you.’ Doreen lowered her voice. ‘I just thought I can rely on you. You know? I phoned Birdie earlier. She's going to rally the troops.’
'Of course. I'll make sure I'm available.’ Cally lowered her voice. ‘Have you heard anything about Octavia?’
'Not well, I'm afraid. She's still in shock. Can't quite believe it's real.'
Cally nodded. 'I can't even imagine.’
Doreen clicked her fingers. ‘All those dreams and plans, gone in an instant.'
'It's strange, isn't it? How life just goes on,' Cally gestured towards the fields. 'The flowers are still blooming, the birds are still singing. It feels like the whole world should stop, but it doesn't.'
Doreen nodded. 'That's the way of things, I'm afraid. The world keeps turning, as they say.'
'I suppose.’
'Speaking of life going on,' Doreen said, glancing at her watch, 'I'd better get back to work.'
‘I hope you’re okay. I know it can't be easy organising all of this.'
'It's the least I can do.'
With that, Doreen picked up her recycling containers and headed off towards the main house, leaving Cally standing by the bins. After depositing her recycling, she walked back to the cottage, her mind full about the funeral. When she walked back into the kitchen, it was a vast improvement from what she’d found. The dishwasher hummed away, the worktops gleamed, fresh air came in through the window, and she’d put away stuff that had been all over the kitchen table. Strolling into the laundry room she put a load of whites on and started to fold things from the tumble dryer. Then in the sitting room, she wiped down the coffee table, plumped up the cushions, and went to the mantlepiece to dust. She sighed as she picked up a picture of Alastair and Logan in a framed photo she hadn't noticed before. Logan and Alastair, arms slung around each other's shoulders, grinning widely at the camera. They looked to be in their late teens or early twenties, standing in front of the stables. Both of them looked so happy and carefree. Putting the photo back down, she sighed, glanced at her phone, felt surprised to see how much time had passed, found her iPad, and made her way back out.
Walking down the long driveway as she stared ahead at the swathes of poppies swaying back and forth in the wind, she couldn't stop thinking about the funeral and how many people would be attending. How sad it was going to be. She squeezed her eyes together at what it would be like for Cecilia and Reginald dealing with the unthinkable task of burying their child.
As she reached the main gates, Cally paused and looked back towards Lovely Manor. The grand old house stood as it always had not looking any different. It appeared seemingly untouched by what was going on in and around it. Shouldering a loss that had shaken the Henry-Hicks family to its core. Cally sighed. Perhaps their life wasn’t quite as gilded after all.