Chapter 29
Was cake an appropriate thing to bring to a grieving family? Jamie had seen it in the window of the bakery and bought it on a whim. Now he wasn’t sure. Flowers would probably have been a better option.
He’d already rung the bell though, and could hear footsteps. Nothing to do about it now unless he wanted to pretend the cake wasn’t for them. That’d be weird.
“Hi.” He held the cake out as though it were an explosive device he wanted to get rid of. “I brought this.”
Mr Langford smiled wanly. “Thank you. That’s thoughtful. People keep bringing food but mostly savoury stuff. This looks delicious.”
“I wanted to stop by and pass on my condolences again.”
“That’s good of you.” He tipped his head and stood aside. “Come in. I wanted to speak with you, actually.”
Jamie stepped into the hallway, trying not to look at the place where Marguerite had been lying on his last visit.
“You got a new banister,” he said dumbly, taking in the fresh wood which ran up the stairs and along the landing.
“Yes.” Mr Langford cleared his throat. “Something I wish I’d done a long time ago.”
“I still don’t understand what happened,” Jamie said. “I feel terrible.”
He shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself.” He placed the cake on the side table and shuffled past Jamie. “Come in.”
In the living room, Jamie thought of his previous visit. Mr Langford had been so confused and upset, and Heather had been distraught.
“I feel I’m stuck in limbo until after the funeral,” Mr Langford said, sitting and gesturing for Jamie to do the same.
“We don’t know yet when it will be, but once that’s out of the way I’ll need to figure out what to do with myself.
” He stared at his hands, clasped in his lap.
“The last two years have all been about caring for Marguerite. I find myself wandering from room to room now. The house feels empty.” He whipped his head up.
“Heather’s staying with me for a while. I don’t know what I’d do without her. ”
“It’s good that you have the support.”
“Yes.” He looked around the room as though he’d never been there before. “I’m tempted to sell up and travel the world.”
“Really?”
“We always enjoyed cruises. Wanted to do more of it as we got older.” He smiled fondly.
“A few years ago, Marguerite had this wild idea of selling the house and spending our time on cruises. We were going to find ourselves a little flat around here to have as a base and then we’d go off travelling the world. ”
“That sounds fantastic.”
He nodded. “We were really going to do it. That was the fun thing with Marguerite. If she had an idea, she followed through. We put the house on the market and everything.”
“What happened?”
“Marguerite fell and broke her hip. A nasty break. They did surgery back then, but it took a long time to heal. They think favouring her other side is what caused the problems with her other hip. That’s why she had another surgery recently.”
“Sorry,” Jamie murmured.
“I knew we wouldn’t ever get to do our cruise. It was clear Marguerite would never manage it. We’d both accepted it, but now and again we’d indulge in our little dream and talk about it as though it still might happen.”
“At least you hadn’t sold your house,” Jamie remarked, then hoped he didn’t sound insensitive.
“I often think the same. But like I say, it feels empty now. Maybe I’ll sell after all.” He huffed out a laugh. “It’d make Trisha next door happy anyway.”
“How so?”
“When we had the house on the market, her sister put in an offer on it. We’d accepted it verbally and were all set to sign the paperwork, but then Marguerite had her fall.
I felt terrible actually – Trisha’s sister had been looking for a place in the area for ages.
She was all excited about living right next door to Trisha.
If you ask me, siblings living next door to each other is a recipe for disaster, but these two are thick as thieves by all accounts. Twins, they are!”
Jamie’s brain went haywire. “I’m sure Trisha and her sister didn’t hold it against you,” he said, hoping to keep the conversation going.
“I think you’re right. She’s a terrible gossip, Trisha, and a bit of a drama queen, but as neighbours go she’s all right. She’s been good at checking in when Marguerite wasn’t well.”
She had a key, Jamie remembered, so they must have got on well, and she’d have been able to come over whenever she wanted.
“Did her sister find somewhere else?”
“Not as far as I know. Trisha mentioned us selling again a while ago. She asked if we might get to do our travelling once Marguerite had recovered.”
“What did you say?”
He flicked his hand. “That it wasn’t very likely.
Even if Marguerite would have recovered physically, two years of being housebound had changed her.
It wasn’t just the physical ailments anymore.
” He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even offer you a drink.
I’ll put the kettle on. We can have a slice of that cake too. ”
Mr Langford had only just walked out of the room when the sound of the front door opening drifted through.
“I’m back,” Heather announced. “I’ve had an idea about after the funeral . . .” She appeared at the living-room door, eyebrows shooting up when she clapped eyes on Jamie. “Hello. Sorry, I didn’t know we had company.”
“Jamie popped over with cake,” Mr Langford called. “Did you get all the shopping?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. Have a sit with Jamie, I’m making drinks.”
She sighed as she sat opposite him. “How are you?”
“Fine. I wanted to check in on your dad and offer my condolences.”
“That’s nice of you.” She sat ramrod straight, her fingers interlocked in her lap.
“How are you coping?” he asked, the words feeling awkward in his mouth.
“Yeah, you know. I’m okay. Holding up.”
Aware that Mr Langford would join them any minute, Jamie decided to take Cal’s approach and be direct. “I was chatting to Fiona in the café earlier. She was worried about you.”
A smile flickered on and off her face. “She’s very sweet.”
“She said she saw you right after your mum died.”
Her eyebrows shot together. “What? When?”
“It was weird. I guess she got confused about the days, but she said you’d walked here from the café, then went back for your car later. I didn’t correct her, but it occurred to me afterwards that it didn’t make any sense. You didn’t get here until later and you were in your car.”
Heather worried at her bottom lip. “She must have got confused. I was working in the morning – I couldn’t make it over here.
” She gave a shake of her head. “Oh, wait. It’s me who’s confused.
I did see Fiona that morning. It’s all a big jumble as you can imagine.
” She nodded as though she’d got it all straight now.
“I knew Dad was playing golf, so I set off to visit Mum, like I usually did when he was out. I got a work call on the way. I’d forgotten about a meeting I was supposed to be in.
I turned around and went back for the car and went to work.
I wish I hadn’t now. Anyway, it’s not like Fiona to gossip. What made her say that?”
“She wasn’t gossiping,” Jamie said quickly. “She just remembered how upset you looked when you got back to the car. With hindsight she knew why. Or she thought she did. It was only a passing comment.”
“I don’t even remember seeing her. My mind will have been on work. The phone call annoyed me.”
That all sort of made sense. Hadn’t Fiona said Heather had been gone an hour though?
It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the café to the Langfords’ house.
There’s no way it should have taken her an hour.
Even if she’d made it all the way to the house before she got the call, it still wouldn’t have been anything like that long.
The door eased open and Mr Langford walked in with a tray containing mugs of tea and slices of cake.
“What I wanted to say,” he said, once he’d divvied it all out, “was thank you for your help on Tuesday morning.”
“I really didn’t do anything,” Jamie said bashfully.
Mr Langford raised his palm. “You were a calm presence and I appreciate that. It was an awful day, but you made it a little easier and I’m grateful.”
“You’re welcome,” Jamie mumbled, then took a bite of cake.
“Also, I’m sorry about all this business with the banister. Apparently, Trisha was mouthing off about your gardening work too. I think she has a good heart really, but she can be a bit of a nightmare.”
“There’s really nothing to apologise for.
” He paused, thinking. Then he looked at Heather.
“I know you were upset about the plant . . . about it being your mum’s favourite, but I was thinking about it and she was there when I cut it.
She didn’t say a thing, so I really don’t think she had a problem with it. ”
Heather’s jaw tightened. “She probably just forgot it was her favourite plant,” she mumbled.
“Oh, Heather,” Mr Langford said. “Don’t start this.”
“Sorry,” she said and picked up her plate.
Jamie waited a moment, debating whether to ask questions. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” he said after a few seconds of silence, “but did Marguerite have dementia? Only she seemed a little confused when I spoke to her in the garden that day.”
Mr Langford shook his head. “No.”
“Dad,” Heather said sorrowfully. “I think she did have dementia. Something wasn’t right.”
“That wasn’t it.” He set his plate down on the coffee table. “She got confused easily and could be a little forgetful, but it was only because of all the pain medication she was on. That and the pain itself. And she didn’t sleep well. That does funny things to a person. It wasn’t dementia.”
Heather caught Jamie’s eye and shrugged as if to say it wasn’t worth pursuing it further.
“The cake’s delicious,” she said. “Most people bring a casserole. This is way better.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
She smiled weakly, then shifted her attention to her phone which vibrated in her hand. “Sorry,” she said on her way out of the room. “I need to take this call.”
Mr Langford continued to mutter about how good the cake was while Heather’s voice drifted from the kitchen. Even with her speaking quietly it was easy to hear her making plans for the evening – meeting someone at the Ship Inn at 7 p.m.
Jamie had just put his final piece of cake in his mouth when she walked back in.
“Making plans?” Mr Langford asked jovially.
“I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” she said, hovering in the doorway. “I can make you something before I go out if you want.”
“I can sort myself out,” he replied. “It’ll be good for you to get out. Is it a date?”
She rolled her eyes. “Just meeting a friend.” Her attention went to Jamie. “I have a few things to do. Thanks again for the cake.”
“You’re welcome.” That seemed like his cue to leave.
He’d probably got all the information he could from them.
For now, anyway.