Chapter 33
KATE
With hair up-staring—then like reeds, not hair.
The wind has picked up, and by the time they get back to Pia’s house, Kate is conscious that her bristle-brush hair is even more on end than usual.
They bundle inside, and Kate heads for the mudroom where she knows there is a toilet and a mirror.
Emerging a few minutes later, she finds Pia and Linda studying photographs that line the corridor leading to the stairs.
She can hear the others above in the big living space, exclaiming at the view.
Linda is looking at a photograph of a younger Pia on a march through some city. “Pride?” Linda asks.
“Um. That was in London, I forget how many years ago.”
Leonard appears beside his wife. “You need to come and see this view, Linda. Beautiful house,” he adds to Pia. Then he catches sight of the photograph. “Linda goes to Pride every year.”
“Do you?” Pia and Kate exclaim.
“Oh yes. Well, since about 2010.”
They start to mount the broad wooden stairs to join the others.
“Do you mind me asking why you go?” Pia says.
“Well, that would be because of jury duty,” Linda replies. “My goodness, Leonard, you were right, it is a wonderful view.”
“Jury duty?” Kate asks, perplexed.
“Um, yes, let me help you,” Linda offers, and they head toward the kitchen area.
Leonard returns to studying the view. “I was called for jury duty, and one of the other people on the jury was a young girl. Well, I say young, maybe mid-twenties. Certainly, younger than the rest of us. Lovely girl. We started talking about festivals, as our boys were heading off to one that weekend. She ended up telling me about going to Pride, and she said that sometimes people like me went.”
“Like you?” Pia quizzes her.
Linda smiles, “I think she meant because I was ‘Mumsy.’ She said women like me went along to give out hugs. Some of the people who went to Pride had been ostracized by their families, and many really just wanted a hug from their mom.”
“Oh, Linda.” Kate’s eyes are swimming. It reminds her of something. “Alice came out to my parents when she was about eighteen. Mom was fine . . .” JoJo Rose. God, she had almost forgotten her painting past. It comes as a shock to be reminded of it.
“So your mom was fine . . . but?” Pia asks.
“Well, I don’t think Dad was. I didn’t realize until Alice was ill that she had stopped coming home so much because of that reason.
She said he used to dodge hugging her, pretend he was busy with something, get her a drink, and take her bag upstairs.
Anything rather than touch her.” A second memory comes to Kate.
With it comes guilt. She pushes against it, forcing it back into the place where it lives.
“That’s sad,” Linda comments. “How were your parents?” she asks Pia.
“I can’t even remember telling them. I think it isn’t a big thing in Denmark. But I still like to go to Pride sometimes. Do you still go?”
“As long as there are people who need a hug, I shall keep going,” Linda says, placidly.
“I think we all need hugs.” It is the hesitant, tentative Pia.
Linda pulls Pia unceremoniously into an embrace and then reaches out an arm to include Kate.
Kate feels bundled up in cashmere, warmth, and the faint scent of magnolia.
She hears Linda murmur, “Thank you for Leonard’s bird lesson.
” She smiles and rests her head on Linda’s shoulder, feeling suddenly sleepy but also hugely grateful to have met these women.
“Can anyone join in?” Lou asks, and looking up, the others are watching from behind the counter that faces into the room. Satya, beside Lou, watching the three of them.
“Enough of this,” Linda says briskly, giving both Pia and Kate’s backs a final rub, “time for coffee and cake.”
They are sitting on the horseshoe of gray sofas, coffees and an assortment of Danish pastries laid out on the table in front of them.
Pia has just produced a bottle of white wine, which Satya, Linda, and Kate have accepted a glass of.
Pia and Tay are talking in more detail about Tay’s work.
All seems so much better, and Tay has nearly finished her college course.
The others have been discussing the proposed trip to London and decided the National Gallery would be a good place to start, and then maybe to take in the National Portrait Gallery as well.
There is a sudden scrabbling sound, and Tay is instantly on her feet, heading toward Noy, who appears at the top of the stairs. He dances around her while Tay makes a fuss of him. Brenda follows shortly after, “Oh, he likes you, don’t you, Noy Boy?”
“Brenda, come in and meet everyone,” Pia says from the sofa.
Brenda joins them, still clutching a leash and what looks like an orange woolly hat. Pia makes the introductions, but Kate can see she is eyeing the hat with misgivings. One of Brenda’s or a new knit for Noy?
“Would you like a coffee or a glass of wine?” Pia offers.
Brenda looks longingly at the wine. “No, no, I don’t want to disturb you all.”
“Well, if you’re sure—”
“Nonsense,” Linda interrupts, budging up on the sofa, and she starts to pour a glass for Brenda, also pushing the depleted plate of pastries toward her.
Brenda beams at them, and as she sits down, Noy jumps up on the sofa to settle between her and Pia, very much at home. Kate is not at all sure Pia is pleased to be sharing what is clearly her and Noy’s usual spot. Tay slumps on the floor next to Noy’s head and helps herself to another pastry.
The Noy Fan Club.
She notices that Tay has her arm and shoulder near Pia’s legs, almost touching, and it strikes her that since the disciplinary meeting, there has been a bond between the two of them.
“Well, this is very nice, and you are all artists, you say?” Brenda sips her wine and nibbles on an iced pastry.
Bardy explains about the group. “Do you paint or write, Brenda?”
“I did try doing some paintings of flowers once. I wasn’t very good. My husband Brian said he’d seen better at the local primary school.”
“Maybe he just didn’t appreciate your particular style,” Linda suggests, kindly.
“Oh, no,” Brenda responds, “Brian knows much more about art than I do, and he said I shouldn’t bother, as I was never going to be an artist. I think he’s probably right. He says I’m not a creative person.”
Kate frowns at her acceptance of these unkind comments, and she wonders what else Brian has opinions on. It prompts her to say, “But you are creative, Brenda, you knit.” Kate avoids looking at Pia as she says this.
“Do you?” Linda enthuses.
Kate sees Brenda glance uncertainly at Pia. “Well, yes, I do. It’s something to do as I watch TV or when Brian is out with his fishing pals, which he is rather a lot.”
“What do you knit?” Linda asks.
Brenda glances at Noy, who is now nuzzling into Tay, happily having his ears stroked.
“Oh, this and that.”
But this is not good enough for Linda. She starts to ask Brenda about the sweater she is wearing, and before long, the two of them are discussing the diagonal basket weave stitch and the reverse stockinette.
Kate leans her head back on the sofa and half listens as the others form knots of conversation. Lou and Leonard talking local council politics; Pia and Satya chatting about a new Netflix series; Tay listening in.
Bardy’s voice brings her back to the room. Was she falling asleep? “Kate, would you like me to top up your wine?”
She must have been half dozing. She smiles at him sleepily, and his look reaches out and holds hers. His eyes are gray, but there are flecks of brown she hasn’t noticed before. And still they look at each other. The moment stretched on.
Oh, I see you, Bardy.
And Kate knows he sees her. In their gaze, everything else falls away. The questions, the what-ifs. She can’t name what is left, but she knows with complete certainty she will remember this moment even when she is a very old woman and is finally weary of life.
Linda’s rich laugh makes them both look away, and Kate is left reeling, dizzy, and feeling somehow bereft. “But these are wonderful,” Linda is saying. She seems to be studying something on Brenda’s phone.
Brenda glances nervously at Pia, who is still chatting to Satya. “They’re just a bit of fun. I had all this wool to use up.”
“What’s that?” Tay is now leaning in, looking.
There follows a very un-Tay-like gurgle of laughter. “They’re beaut!” She pats Noy some more. “You’re a superstar dog.”
This does attract Pia’s attention. Kate isn’t sure what is coming next, but she knows it’s not going to be good.
“Noy is the perfect model,” Linda comments, laughing.
As she holds out Brenda’s phone to show the others, Brenda makes an ineffectual grab for it.
She is too late. They are now all looking at photos of Noy modeling a series of fetching outfits.
A jester whippet in gold and blue with extravagant pom-pom buttons.
A clerical whippet, somber black coat with a white dog collar, and a black beret.
Kate puts her hand over her mouth and stifles her laugh. The others are less successful.
There is Noy in a woolen coat of 3D flowers—complete with a cupcake hat.
And finally, a green and red dinosaur whippet with knitted spines down his back.
In all the photos, Noy is looking pathetically patient, but as before, when Kate saw him in his cerise sweater, his brows are drawn together into a “why me” expression.
Most are laughing now, including Kate. It’s Noy’s expression that set her off.
But Pia is not laughing. Nor is Brenda.
Brenda looks pleadingly at Pia. “It was only a bit of fun. I didn’t take him out in them after you . . .”
“Is this your Instagram account?” Pia’s voice cuts through, her face rigid.
“Yes, but it’s a private account.”
“You will take those photos down straightaway.”
Brenda nods, her round, good-natured face flushed. Kate abruptly stops laughing. She thinks Brenda is close to tears. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
Linda hands the phone back to her, looking stricken. She clearly thought Pia already knew of the whippet knits. The rest of the laughter slowly fades.
“Brenda, I am very conscious of how much you like Noy, and I am grateful for all you do. But he is not your dog. And I will not have him made to look ridiculous by you.”
Brenda winces. And for some reason, Kate thinks of her husband, Brian.
Brenda scrambles to her feet. “No, I’m very sorry. I’ll get rid of it all. Nice to meet everyone.”
But Pia hasn’t finished. “And please stop calling my dog Noy Boy.”
“No, no, of course.” Brenda all but runs for the stairs.
Before anyone can say anything, Tay is on her feet and after her. From halfway down the stairs comes the sound of muffled conversation.
“I cannot believe she did that!” Pia declares, eyes flashing, face flushed.
There is complete silence.
“Blimey, Pia.” This is from Lou.
She whips around to him, “What?”
He holds his hands out, shaking his head, “Nothing. Your dog. Your rules.”
Kate glances at Bardy, but he is looking anxiously after Tay. His face relaxes, and turning, she sees Tay reemerge at the top of the stairs. Noy goes to move off the sofa to join her, but Pia clicks her fingers together smartly and loudly. Noy sinks back down.
Tay approaches and looks around at them all.
“Sit back down here,” Linda says, soothingly. “Now, anyone for the last pastry? Pia, you really must give me the recipe for that . . . what did you call it . . . kransekage?”
Tay ignores Linda and looks down at Pia, a frown on her face. “Look, I know you love Noy, and he’s your dog, but at the end of the day, it was funny. She wasn’t doing any harm. And you . . .”
“And I what?”
Kate has never heard Pia’s voice like this. No hesitancy, no softness. Just a honed edge. Was this what she was like in that meeting?
“She’s not like that twat Jonathan, but you’re treating her like she’s rubbish. She’s not . . .” Tay can’t seem to find the words. She turns abruptly to Bardy. “Can we go?”
He’s on his feet in an instant. “Right. Okay. Look . . . anyway . . . well, great trip, Leonard. Thank you, Pia.”
Pia doesn’t say anything. She’s just looking at Tay. What is it? Shock? Hurt?
Kate thinks back to their conversation in the pub—or rather, non-conversation.
She had walked away that evening, wondering what it was that had made Pia initially reluctant to help Tay.
Did something happen to Pia? She doesn’t think it’s family; Pia always talks about them with great warmth.
Grace? She had clearly been hurt by her last relationship.
Or was there some case that had affected her?
Perhaps it caused her to form a shell around herself.
Now Tay has got in under her guard, and despite the anger and biting comments to Brenda, there is no doubt about it: Pia is upset by Tay’s words. Shocked even.
Satya’s phone buzzes. “Oh, that’s Jack and the boys downstairs.
” She sounds relieved. Pia goes to rise.
“No, don’t worry. Got to run. Thanks, everyone.
See you at next week’s meeting.” Satya throws a final look at Kate, and Kate is conscious that something has upset her.
Not Brenda. Is it Jack and the boys? Then why does she get the feeling it has something to do with her?
Before Kate can even finish this thought, Satya is heading after the retreating figure of Tay.
With a helpless wave of the hand, Bardy follows suit, leaving Kate, Lou, Leonard, and Linda with an indignant Dane and a yawning, oblivious whippet.