Chapter 3
‘I’m opening a bottle, want to join me?’ I said to my sister Kat on the phone later that evening.
It had been quite a day. Once we’d got back to the office, I’d worked like a demon, first composing an email to the rest of the company explaining that I was taking a break with immediate effect, and then meeting each of my team individually to delegate my workload and put a positive spin on my departure.
After updating Anna and finessing the terms of my sabbatical with Human Resources, I’d left the building for the last time until April.
Now I was home again, the house felt emptier and quieter than ever and without my distraction technique of pulling out my laptop and checking emails, I needed some company.
‘But it’s a work night!’ My sister did a fake gasp.
‘It is,’ I replied. ‘And it isn’t.’
‘Please don’t talk in riddles, I’m not as clever as you.’
I tutted at her. ‘Don’t put yourself down, you’re amazing, remember that time when—’
‘Mags!’ she cut in. ‘Now is not the time to be my cheerleader. What’s up?’
She was the only person who I allowed to call me Mags. Actually, there was one other person, but I didn’t count him because that was a lifetime ago.
‘Everything.’ I heard rustling noises. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Putting my coat on.’
‘You’re the best.’ I already felt better.
I’d known she’d come. Saying no to people or animals wasn’t an option for Kat Winkleberry.
Hence her ever-expanding menagerie of cats, rabbits, and chinchillas – not forgetting the blind dog she’d adopted from Macedonia or the gang of birds that hung out on her patio for the seed she bought in bulk.
‘Andy? I’m going over to Mags’s for wine,’ she shouted to her husband, not bothering to put her hand over the phone.
I winced at the assault on my ears.
‘Maggie’s drinking? On a work night?’ I heard Andy yell back. ‘Bloody hell. Give her a hug from me.’
‘Tell him thanks, hug appreciated,’ I said.
‘On my way, sis,’ Kat said with a slam of the door. ‘Hang on in there.’
We lived close to each other in the Cotswolds village of Honeybourne, and within ten minutes her bicycle was parked in the narrow hallway of my cottage, where it would remain for the rest of the night.
She always walked home if she had more than two glasses of wine.
I loved having her nearby and she felt the same.
We’d had each other’s backs since we were kids, there at the drop of a hat, or as now, the tweak of the corkscrew.
I was five years older than her and, growing up, I’d been the one she’d turned to. These days it worked both ways.
‘I lost my job today.’ I poured us both a glass of Pinot Grigio while she divested herself of coat, cycle helmet and boots.
Kat froze, one boot dangling from her foot. ‘Sacked? No way.’
‘Technically, I avoided being sacked, but I’m not allowed back into the building from now until Easter.’
My sister kicked off the boot, sank onto the sofa and accepted the glass of wine. ‘I’d normally say cheers at this point, but it doesn’t feel appropriate. Can you sue?’
I wrinkled my nose. ‘It’s my own behaviour which landed me in this mess.’
‘Oh dear.’ She looked at me solemnly.
I cocked my head. ‘You don’t seem surprised.’
Kat produced a bag of crisps from her bag. ‘Do you remember when Mum made a load of elderflower wine, thinking she’d sell it for a fortune; it did nothing for ages, and one day every single bottle exploded?’
I nodded – the carpet had been so sticky we’d had to get rid of it and make do with second-hand rugs to cover the draughty floorboards for the next two years.
‘Not something I could ever forget. Why?’
‘Because, Maggie,’ she said softly, ‘you’ve been bottling up your grief since Bronte died. It was only a matter of time until you blew your top. Like that elderflower wine.’
‘Rubbish.’ I felt my jaw tighten. ‘I’m not bottling anything up. I’m getting on with my life, keeping busy. Let me tell you what happened today. I bet you’d have done exactly the same.’
Over wine and Kat’s sweet chilli crisps, I brought her up to speed with the last twenty-four miserable hours of my life.
‘I had to agree to this sabbatical, as we’re calling it, because otherwise I won’t have a shot at being promoted to the board and Lee–bloody–Masters will get the job instead.’ I added a log to the fire, prodded the embers viciously with the poker, and plopped back down beside her.
Kat looked at me for a few moments. ‘Oh Maggie, I’m so sorry.’
I’d expected her to at least giggle at the bit where Kevin Armstrong’s car keys landed in the canal. But her hand reached for mine.
‘Me too.’ I smiled, grateful for her sympathy. ‘I hope this encourages him to get help with his drinking. He didn’t endear himself to Anna or me, but I don’t wish him ill.’
Kat huffed. ‘If I’d been there, he would have been swimming home. How dare he think it’s okay to drive after boozing?’
We locked eyes. Losing Bronte had hit her hard too.
The two of them had adored each other and Bronte had babysat for Kat’s little boy Sam ever since he was born.
He was nine now, and I felt a pang of guilt for not seeing my nephew enough recently.
I loved Kat and her family dearly and enjoyed being in their company, but returning to a silent house, after spending time in their boisterous family home, brought me down to earth with a bump.
Sometimes it was easier to be alone all day than to be reminded of what I was missing.
‘Exactly,’ I said indignantly. ‘So now, I’ve got three months to kill before I can get back to work and reassert myself as a professional who’d be an asset to the board.’
I shuddered, remembering Anna’s use of the words ‘loose cannon’.
‘So, what are you going to do?’ Kat set her glass down and tucked her feet underneath her.
I appreciated her not saying something motivational like see this as an opportunity for growth . Tonight, I didn’t want to be motivated, I wanted someone to take my side and rant at the unfairness of everything.
‘This place could do with a makeover, I guess. It’s been years since we …’
My voice petered out. I looked around my living room with its open fireplace, honeyed oak beams and the squishy velvet sofa Bronte and I had picked up for free from Facebook Marketplace.
We had decorated this room together. She’d been obsessed with the colour teal and insisted on a feature wall around the fireplace.
‘Maybe not. I don’t know, Kat,’ I said wearily.
‘What do other people do with time off?’
‘Don’t ask me,’ she scoffed. ‘I haven’t worked since having Sam and I still never seem to have a minute to myself.’
Kat’s phone made a trumpet sound. ‘Sorry, that’s a notification from the lost pets Facebook page.’ She looked at the screen. ‘Good news! Mintie the Westie has been reunited with her owner.’
Kat’s life was full to bursting. Hobbies, commitments, volunteering, running their cabin as a holiday let in the Lake District, on top of looking after Andy and Sam.
Perhaps this was my wake-up call to start a hobby.
Perhaps I should rejoin the gym, or grovel to my old book club and see if they’d take me back.
‘You could rescue a dog. Company for you, and think how happy you could make an old dog,’ she suggested.
I held up a hand like a stop sign. ‘No way. I’d be heartbroken when it died. I couldn’t handle losing anyone else.’
‘A puppy then?’
I shook my head. ‘Too much responsibility. I don’t want to be tied down. What if I want to go away?’
She gave me a quizzical look. ‘You don’t like travelling.’
‘I haven’t done much recently,’ I admitted. ‘But I was going to ask to stay at your cabin in the Lakes.’
‘Oh no! We’ve let it for six months to someone.’ She pulled an apologetic face. ‘You don’t want to go there on your own at this time of year anyway: too cold, too remote. You need people around you. No, come on, top me up and let’s brainstorm.’
‘Do we have to?’ I sloshed wine into her glass.
I didn’t agree with her about needing people. People asked questions like: What do you do? Are you married? Do you have kids? People were hard work.
‘It’ll be fun,’ she replied. ‘And I won’t hold you to anything. So, if you could do absolutely anything, money no object, what would it be?’
‘Easy.’ I helped myself to a handful of crisps. ‘Time-travel. I’d go back to the day Bronte came to tell me about her gap year. I’d say that it was a brilliant idea and that I wanted to hear all about it. And she’d leave the house knowing that she had my full support and approval.’
My sister gave me a chastising look. ‘You need to stop beating yourself up about that.’
I shook my head. ‘I should have done better. I let her down.’
‘Not true. You held her up all her life. She knew you always had her best interests at heart. You made her feel loved and heard and seen. She knew how precious she was to you.’
Tears pricked at my eyes. Hello again, grief . I could go for days without it playing out in public, and then suddenly here it was, raking its talons down my spine.
Kat scooched up the sofa and put her arm around me. I rested my head on her shoulder.