Chapter 4
4
‘Home time, I think,’ Mum announced shortly after. ‘It’s been lovely but I’m ready for a rest now.’
Georgia fetched Mum’s coat and scarf and, after Mum said her goodbyes, helped her into it. Mark was the designated driver and offered to drive her the exceptionally short distance to Derwent Rise but Mum insisted on walking, saying she’d spent nearly all afternoon stuck indoors on her backside and was craving some fresh air and exercise. She might well have craved it but her body didn’t. My stomach churned as I watched her shuffle slowly across the car park, over the road and along the path to the bottom of Derwent Rise’s drive. It struck me how small and frail she looked sandwiched between Dad and Mark. The three of them paused for quite some time before setting off up the drive.
‘I wish she’d accepted the lift from Mark,’ I muttered to Georgia.
‘Me too, but it must be hard losing your independence like that.’
I was about to ask more but the rest of the family joined us.
‘Astrid’s getting crotchety so we’re going to make tracks,’ Keira said. ‘See you both tomorrow.’
‘Should we start loading the car?’ Regan asked.
With a stack of gifts, flowers, balloons and the cake to carry, we’d agreed that it made more sense to load up Mark’s car than do loads of trips over the road so Regan, Clarke, Georgia and I set to work clearing everything from the conservatory. The boys had already said goodbye to my parents so they headed off once the car was packed. Mark returned and drove his car across to the house and Georgia and I followed on foot, helping him to unload.
‘Thanks for bringing everything over,’ Dad said as he placed the giant eight and zero balloons in the corner of the lounge. ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea but your mum’s gone for a lie down and I don’t want to disturb her.’
‘We understand,’ Georgia said. ‘It’s been a long day so we’ll leave you to relax.’
We both hugged Dad and then I followed Georgia and Mark back to Pippinthwaite in my car. Mark carried Georgia’s flowers and a bouquet of balloons inside then headed into Keswick to pick up a takeaway.
‘I’m shattered,’ Georgia said, kicking off her shoes in the hall. ‘I’m dying to quiz you about Graeme but I’m craving a bath. Would you mind if I abandon you?’
‘Please do. Happy to delay or, even better, forget about my interrogation.’
She shook her head, laughing. ‘Delay? Yes. Forget? No chance.’
Georgia disappeared upstairs and I went into the lounge and flicked on the television but I couldn’t find anything to hold my interest so I switched it off and sat in silence. I felt as though I was approaching another crossroads in my life, this time with three routes. The first involved staying in Newcastle and returning to life as it had been before Graeme – not a particularly appealing choice because it had been pretty bleak. A second one involved staying in Newcastle but coming back to Willowdale far more often. And the third route… I shuddered. Was I strong enough to even consider coming home for good?
‘That feels better,’ Georgia said, appearing in a fluffy dressing gown and slippers a bit later. ‘Sorry about that. So, tell me about Graeme.’
But the sound of Mark’s car pulling onto the drive thankfully put paid to that.
‘You’re not off the hook,’ she said, heading into the kitchen. ‘We’ll discuss this later.’
Tiredness had taken hold of us all and the conversation over food was stilted. Afterwards, Georgia declared she had a headache and needed an early night so I was off the hook after all. I joined Mark in the lounge to watch a crime drama but I soon lost track of what was happening thanks to all the options spinning round in my head.
When the programme finished, I went upstairs to bed. I was usually a good sleeper but I couldn’t settle. The bed in Georgia’s spare room was incredibly comfortable, the temperature was spot on and it was wonderfully peaceful and quiet… except in my mind. No matter how hard I tried to relax, I could not switch off. I kept picturing Mum being helped across the conservatory and, later, across the road and worrying about how much I didn’t know about her health. I kept thinking about how little contact I had with everyone except Georgia and how much I missed being a part of a close family – both emotionally and physically. I imagined my life back in Newcastle without Graeme and tried to weigh up which would be the most difficult – being lonely and cut off in Newcastle, or being back in Willowdale with my family but surrounded by painful memories and at risk of bumping into Flynn.
In the early hours, with no conclusion reached, I gave up fighting sleep and crept downstairs to make a hot chocolate.
‘What are you doing up at half two?’ Georgia asked, shuffling into the kitchen-diner in her slippers and dressing gown and yawning.
The kettle clicked off and I poured boiling water over the contents from an instant sachet.
‘Mind too active,’ I said. ‘Want one?’
‘Go on, then.’
I handed her the mug I’d just stirred and tipped the contents of another sachet into a fresh mug for me.
‘Sorry if I woke you,’ I said as I joined her at the large table. ‘I tried to be quiet.’
‘I was already awake.’ She stirred her drink. ‘It’s not quite the same as a bottle of wine, but how about you tell me about Graeme over a hot chocolate instead?’
‘There’s nothing to tell.’
‘Last I heard, you were talking about moving in together and now you’ve split up. There’s definitely a story there.’
There was no way Georgia was going to let this one go. Nobody had mentioned Graeme’s absence at Mum’s party – and I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or hurt by that – but it was bound to crop up over the Sunday roast and it would be better to have my sister on my side batting away questions rather than leading the charge.
‘I never lied to Graeme,’ I said. ‘Right from the start, I was clear with him that I wasn’t looking for anything serious and he swore he wasn’t either. It seems my definition of not serious and his vastly differed because he asked me to marry him.’
‘He did what?’ she cried, eyes wide. ‘When?’
‘While we were in St Lucia. Just before New Year.’
‘Oh, my God! No! What was he thinking?’
I sighed heavily, shaking my head. ‘Exactly.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mel.’ She grimaced. ‘That’s shocking timing. Did you have any idea it was coming?’
‘Not a clue. I don’t know what possessed him. I’d never expressed any desire to get married again and we certainly hadn’t talked about a long-term future together.’
Georgia wrinkled her nose. ‘But you were moving in with him. Wouldn’t that suggest long-term?’
‘Moving in was meant to be a practical thing and temporary. I thought I’d told you that.’
When Georgia shook her head and looked at me blankly, I continued.
‘The heating’s knackered and the kitchen’s falling apart so the landlord’s getting his team in to do a big refurb next month. In theory, I could stay at the flat and have them work round me but it’ll be too noisy to work – not to mention the mess. He offered to put me up in a B&B but that’s no good either. I need a big room with natural light and you know how much I like peace and quiet when I’m working. So Graeme suggested I stay at his, which would have been perfect if he hadn’t stupidly taken my acceptance of his kind offer as some sort of commitment to spending the rest of my life with him.’
‘Not good. Urgh! I can’t believe he proposed to you while you were away. I’d have credited him with more sensitivity than that.’
‘Me too. You can probably imagine my reaction. What was even worse was that he didn’t get why I was so annoyed.’
‘You’re kidding!’
‘Apparently he’d have expected a negative reaction if he’d proposed on New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day but he couldn’t see why the thirtieth was an issue.’
Georgia winced again. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Me too. I still can’t get my head around why he did it. I liked Graeme but that’s not the same as being in love with someone. I’d never told him I loved him and he’d never said it to me either. If he had, we’d have had a serious conversation a long time ago and it would have been over then. Asking me to marry him was left field enough, but asking me while we were away just beggars belief. He knows why I go away for Christmas and New Year. He knows how difficult that time of year is for me. What would possess him to think that proposing then would be a good idea?’
I shook my head, reliving the excruciating moment when it happened. We’d had a delicious evening meal and were walking back to our room. The swimming pools were lit by pretty spotlights and surrounded by beautiful plants and water features and it looked really romantic. I’d made a passing comment about that and, next moment, Graeme dipped down onto one knee and whipped out a ring.
‘Did you actually split up while you were away?’ Georgia asked.
‘Yeah. I tried to let him down lightly, saying I wasn’t ready for marriage but he managed to add a big yet to the end of that. He was full of reassurances that there was no rush to set a date and I knew there and then that it had to be the end for us. There would never be a good time to set a date because I didn’t want to marry him and never would. I could never give him what he wanted or what he deserved and he could never be right for me because proposing when he did showed how little he understood me.’
‘You said he didn’t take it well,’ Georgia prompted.
‘He was okay with me in St Lucia. He was embarrassed but managed to make a joke out of being relieved that he hadn’t been brave enough to propose in the restaurant in front of everyone like he’d originally intended. He moved into another room and we still spent time together. It was a little strained but I did think we might manage to salvage some sort of friendship. We got home, had some time apart, and arranged for him to come round on Friday night to collect his things and it was awful. He was in a really argumentative mood and demanded to know why I’d said no. I was as gentle as I could with him but I mentioned the inappropriateness of the date and he just didn’t get it. He told me I’d led him on, wasted his time, ruined his life. Nice stuff like that.’
Cold-hearted and frigid bitch had been thrown in for good measure. That hurt. It wasn’t true, but I could see why he’d said those things. I’d held him at a distance, showed affection but not love, kept things from him.
‘I’m sorry you’ve been through all that. Bet you wish you could have spent yesterday curled up in bed eating chocolate instead of feeling like an outsider at Mum’s birthday party.’
‘I never said I felt like an outsider.’
‘Your mouth might not have but your eyes did. The smiles and polite conversation didn’t fool me. You looked lost.’
Lost. It was the perfect word for how I felt right now. How I’d felt for the past seven years. I was fifty-two. I should have everything sussed by now but I’d never felt less in control of my life.
‘I haven’t been burying my head in the sand,’ I said, referencing our earlier conversation outside The White Willow.
‘I shouldn’t have said that.’
‘No, it’s fine. I can see why you would. But you were right about the other part. I did run away to Newcastle. I had to. You do understand why, don’t you?’
She gently placed her hand on my forearm. ‘You know I do, and I think it probably was the right thing for you at the time. It’s just that…’ She paused and sighed, shaking her head. ‘…I’m not convinced it’s right for you anymore, especially now that you’ve split up with Graeme. How about taking that as a sign that it’s time to come home?’
I placed my hand over hers. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day, but I’m not convinced I can do it.’
She nodded vigorously, eyes wide. ‘You can! I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I’ll be here for you. You’ve got so many people here who love you and want to see more of you. Please come back to us.’
I knew how happy I’d make Georgia if I agreed to return, but this was a huge decision and not one I could make in one day.
‘I’ll keep thinking about it,’ I said, my voice soft. ‘I can’t promise you more than that.’
She gave me a weak smile. ‘I suppose thinking about it’s better than a firm no.’
‘You won’t say anything to Mum and Dad in the meantime? If they knew I was thinking about it but decided to stay in Newcastle, I’m not sure they’d forgive me. I already feel like I’m such a disappointment.’
‘You’re not. I just think that, like all of us, they’re struggling to understand why you’ve stayed away. They understood you leaving – they really did – and they might have continued that way if you’d…’ She lowered her eyes as she tailed off.
‘If I’d come back to visit more often,’ I finished for her.
‘A few more phone calls even?’ she suggested.
‘I kept meaning to but…’ I shook my head. ‘Anyway, I want to try to fix it but I’m going to need your help because I can’t do it on my own. I’ve already made that mistake.’
She pushed her chair back and wrapped her arms round me. ‘You’re never on your own. You can count on me always.’
The only response I could give was to squeeze her tighter. I might have distanced myself from everyone physically and emotionally but Georgia had refused to let me go and I couldn’t be more grateful. Her constant messages, phone calls and FaceTime requests as well as the intermittent trips to Newcastle – I need some new clothes or I’d love to see that show at the theatre – had been a lifeline for me and I’m not sure how I’d have made it this far without her.
Although I hadn’t made a decision about my future home, I had finally admitted to myself that running away hadn’t been the answer. But when the question was how do you get over the death of your eighteen-year-old son and the subsequent end of your marriage , was there actually an answer?