Chapter 41
At the Harbour Bar, the party continued all evening, and Johnny and I left Granny Annie singing and talking with her friends. Johnny was worse for wear. ‘I barely touched those pints Eddie and Matty kept producing like rabbits from hats, but jet lag on top of it all, I’m done for.’
He slipped his arm through mine and told me about what he’d been up to recently, the topiary in the shape of Maya Angelou’s head in Oprah’s garden, the mango tree, the kitchen garden with sixty-two different herbs.
‘I’d only heard of about three of them, cilantro, curly parsley and the other kind of parsley. ’
I was laughing, when I heard a voice.
‘Hello…’
We both looked up. And there was Henry, standing just outside the hotel.
‘I texted you to see where you are,’ he said, glancing at Johnny.
‘I didn’t check my phone.’
‘Oh, no worries.’ He smiled. ‘I was just wondering how… Sheila was.’
‘Much the same, I think,’ I said. ‘Diana and Ethel headed in this evening. But we’ve been with the knitting circle in the pub.’
‘Right. Well…’ He glanced again at Johnny. ‘I’d better get home. It’s the regatta in the morning.’
‘Of course.’ I wanted him to stay. I didn’t want him to leave. ‘Well, are you all prepared?’
‘Not as much as I usually am. I was with the committee. Barry from the council?’
‘Wispy hair?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Nostrils?’
‘Ginormous. Anyway, I thought I would just try to see if anything could be done.’ He glanced again at Johnny, who now disentangled himself from me and stepped forwards.
‘Johnny,’ he said. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘I thought you might be someone else,’ said Henry.
‘Like who?’ said Johnny, intrigued. ‘Some kind of film star? People often think I look a little like Jonathan Bailey. Or a young Gregory Peck… is that who you were thinking of?’
‘I think he thinks you’re Milhouse Bartlett,’ I said.
‘Old Fartbrains?’ Johnny laughed. ‘No, he’s long gone.
Consigned to the garbage can of history.
’ He peered at Henry. ‘If you’d met the man, you wouldn’t have confused the two of us.
He’s got no style whatsoever and has a face which looks as though it was trapped in a vice when he was a baby.
And he has a voice which is impossible to hear, not that he says anything interesting, ever. ’
I was about to defend Milhouse, but I gave up and shrugged. ‘Fair enough.’
Henry nodded. ‘I just assumed, but not to worry, I’d better get back and…’
‘This is Johnny,’ I explained. ‘My brother…’
‘Your brother?’ Henry brightened.
‘Sadly, yes,’ I said. ‘My little brother. Hasn’t grown out of being annoying.’
Johnny had made himself crack up and was wiping away tears. ‘Honestly, I think I might be drunk, I really do. I’m not used to it, not with now having to get up early with Miss Daisy.’ He held out his hand to Henry. ‘Good to meet you. Johnny Daly.’
‘Henry Campbell.’
‘Henry!’ Johnny turned to me, delighted. ‘It’s Henry! Well! Hello, Henry!’
Henry seemed bemused at this rapturous reception.
‘Sorry, he’s not used to pints and he’s overtired and I need to get him to bed.
He and my grandmother only arrived this morning.
’ I wished I could ask him how it had gone with Flow, only because if it had gone well, it would help me deal with whatever it was I was feeling at the moment.
It would make it easier if he really liked her and that they had made plans to see each other again, so I could return to Boston and there wouldn’t be anything left to worry about.
But instead I bundled Johnny under the arm and tried to bustle him away. ‘Bye Henry, good luck tomorrow.’
‘Yes, see you. You are coming down, aren’t you?’
‘For the regatta?’ Johnny pulled us back, putting on a silly voice. ‘Oh, we wouldn’t miss it for the world! I simply adore the regatta! Will you be at the regatta, Henry?’
Henry nodded as I hissed, ‘He’s sailing in it!’
‘Well, then we’ll see you there,’ went on Johnny. ‘By the way, isn’t my sister beautiful? She always is, but I think Ireland agrees with her. Isn’t she looking remarkably well?’
‘Shut up, Johnny!’ I grabbed his sleeve. ‘Sorry about this,’ I said to Henry.
But he was laughing. ‘It’s fine. I’m enjoying it. And you are, by the way.’
Mortified, we left Henry behind, hoping he didn’t see how burning hot my face was.
I stayed awake until the very early hours thinking about everything, and missing Caitlin harder and stronger than I ever had.
I’d felt so weirdly close to her the last week, as though getting away from Boston had allowed me the space for my grief to breathe and memories of her had filled the vacuum.
And now I just felt so sad because she was gone and there was nothing I could do to save the situation.
And I thought of Granny Annie and the fact she’d lost her best friend, and I knew how it felt to want to run away and never look back.
‘I miss you, Caitlin,’ I said. ‘I’ll always miss you.
’ I’d lost my best friend, my life partner, the woman I thought I would be drinking sherries with when we were Granny Annie’s age, meeting for dinner once a week, going shopping and on holiday, and sharing everything in our lives.
And I could hear Caitlin’s voice in my head, as clearly as if she was here beside me, talking to me in that voice of hers which always seemed to be about to erupt into laughter.
And it so often did, she was one of those people who laughed not just at funny things, but at awful, awkward things.
She was also the most determined person I’d ever met.
She never left anything without finishing it.
We painted our dorm room in college and I soon gave up, but she carried on until every wall was covered.
And she was the same with her treatment.
She didn’t give up on life, until it gave up on her.
She would see this through, I thought. She wouldn’t leave the knitting circle half-done.
And it was clear, I still had work to do.
We needed to find somewhere for the knitters to meet.
And more than that, we needed to remember Lolly DeCourcey properly, for her sake and for my grandmother’s. Best friends were worth fighting for.
I then found Caitlin’s copy of Persuasion. I opened up the first page. And there was Caitlin’s handwriting, a little shaky, a little less strong than her usual fluent hand.
To my best friend forever, otherwise known as Kerry-Anne The Great!
I’ll miss you when I’m gone. But if you ever pick up this book (WHICH YOU SHOULD!
!!!), I want you to read it and know that it’s not enough to have love, you have to have passion, WHICH YOU HAVE IN BUCKET LOADS!
!!! Just carry on being YOU because YOU are AMAZING!
!!! I love you and miss you and don’t want to leave you, but promise me you will be okay?
?? I KNOW YOU WILL BE!!!! Live for the two of us.
And by the way, thanks for being the best friend a girl could have. Your forever pal, Caitlin The Great xxx