Chapter 29
29
I t was a day or so later and Cally had just left the manor house. She’d spent most of the day with Doreen, helping to prepare for the funeral. When she’d first offered to help Doreen, to be honest, she’d expected Doreen to say no. Despite the number of staff at the manor, Doreen, however, as the funeral had approached, had leant on Cally for all sorts of little jobs here and there. Cally had been running around all day, tying up loose ends left, right, and centre. You know those little flies with blue bottoms? She was one of those.
With a takeaway hot blackcurrant in her hand Doreen had made for her just before she’d left, she walked away from the manor on a path beside the edges of the perfectly manicured lawns. A long line of well-cared-for trees swayed back and forth in the wind, and coming from the direction of the marquee that had been erected for the funeral, she could hear the distant chatter and occasional laughter from some of the manor workers. The laughter in the air was at odds with what was going on with the family inside the manor. There wasn’t much to laugh about in there at all.
Cecilia had become more and more distressed as the funeral had approached and was barely getting out of bed. Reg had turned to the bottle, and Logan wasn’t far behind him. Cally shook her head as she thought about it and reached the area of the garden where the path narrowed and led down a small hill in the direction of the main gates. She took careful steps towards the bottom and as she pondered what was going on, she felt that, as usual, the same old familiar thought that the Henry-Hicks family was entitled and didn’t even know it. She thought about Cecilia staying in bed all day. Yes, it was more than terrible what had happened, but Cally couldn’t stop herself from thinking about how when her grandma had passed away, she certainly hadn’t had the luxury of staying in bed, far from it. She had, in fact, had to get up and get on with what was left of her life. She’d teetered on being homeless and had been racked with constant worry. Shuddering at the thought, Cally ploughed on in the direction of Lovely Bay and thanked her lucky stars, she was closer to buying her own place.
From the road, she could hear the sound of the bin man coming up the lane and, faintly on the breeze, the sounds of Lovely Bay Primary School at playtime. Life outside the manor continued, while inside, it felt as if everything had stopped with Alastair’s passing. Cally shook her head as she got closer to the gates, and just as she was about to press the button for them to open, she bumped straight into one of the gardeners who was kneeling down weeding a bed.
‘Afternoon, our Cally,’ the gardener said, standing up and placing his hands on the small of his back. ‘How’s everything going up there at the house?’
Cally raised her eyebrows. ‘Not great. I’ve been helping Doreen. She was in a bit of a pickle with it all.’
‘Yes, I thought that when I went up for lunch earlier.’ The gardener's weathered face creased with concern. ‘What a sorry old state of affairs, eh?’
Cally nodded. ‘It's been awful. The whole family is in shock. I suppose you would be…’
The gardener leaned on his rake. ‘I remember when Alastair was just a young lad, running around these gardens, getting into all sorts of mischief. Always had a smile on his face, that one. You can’t believe it…’
‘I know.’
The gardener nodded. ‘It just goes to show, doesn't it? You never know what's around the corner. One day you're planning a grand adventure, and the next, well, the next, you're not.’
‘Logan's been saying the same thing. How fragile life is, how quickly everything can change.’
‘That it can.’
Cally swept her hand across in front of her. ‘The gardens look beautiful. The poppies are so pretty. Everything always looks lovely here.’
The gardener waved off the compliment and sighed. ‘It's the least we can do for the family. They've always been especially good to me. Alastair always had a kind word or a joke to share when he'd see me working, too. Well, I'd best get back to it.’
‘Yep. See you at the funeral, I guess, if not before.’
‘Will do. And, our Cally?’
She looked back. ‘Yes?’
‘You take care of yourself, too, you hear?’
‘I will. Thank you.’
As Cally waited for the gates to open, she could hear the scrape of the rake behind her. Strolling along the road in the direction of Lovely she thought about the gardener’s words and rolled her eyes. She didn’t need to take care of herself. She’d seen it all before.