Chapter 10
Another year dawned and I lay in bed for several minutes listening to the wind outside, hurling bits of broken twig and leaves at the window. Today was officially five years since Cliff’s death, although it was possible it had been late on New Year’s Eve when he left us.
During our thirty-three-year marriage, we’d never ventured out on New Year’s Eve.
We’d booked a table in a restaurant for our first New Year’s Eve as a married couple but I’d come down with a horrendous cold and couldn’t face it.
Cliff had made me a mulled wine for medicinal purposes and had challenged me to a game of chess.
Our chess skills (or perhaps lack of them) were evenly matched so it was always enjoyable playing together.
The game took my mind off how ill I felt and I’d admitted afterwards that it had been the best New Year I’d ever had, despite feeling lousy.
We’d concluded we preferred spending quality time together at home rather than going out so chess and wine became our New Year’s Eve tradition.
‘I’ll keep you with me for company. Sleep well and see you next year.’
But he didn’t see me again.
‘Good morning, sleepyhead,’ I called, crossing the room the next morning to draw back the curtains. ‘I can’t believe you’ve slept at the table. You’ll have such a crick in your neck.’
No answer.
‘Cliff?’
Heart thudding, I rushed over to him and gave him a gentle shake.
Something fell from his hand onto the wooden floor – the white queen – and my stomach lurched.
My fingers grappled for his wrist, desperately searching for a pulse, but I already knew I was too late.
The room was eerily quiet, he was too still, too cold.
They told me later that the massive cardiac arrest which took him away from me would have been instant and he wouldn’t have felt anything.
It was a tiny sliver of comfort as I couldn’t bear the thought that he could have been alone and scared, unable to call out for help as his life slowly ebbed away.
The wind hurling another twig at the window made me jump and I pulled the duvet tighter around me, wishing I could stay in bed all day.
But the longer I lay there, the more thoughts circled round my head about the two major crossroads I’d encountered in my life and whether I’d made the right decision.
The first one – accepting Cliff’s proposal and leaving home – still felt right, but the decision I’d made at the second crossroads when I turned forty remained shrouded with doubt.
If I’d taken the other route, would it have worked?
Would I be in a different house with Will by my side right now?
Would Cliff and I have been able to stay friends or would me leaving have destroyed him?
A million what ifs and maybes clawed at me and I threw back the duvet, gasping for air.
Why did I start off every New Year torturing myself in this way?
It wasn’t as though Cliff and I hadn’t been happy together.
It was just that things could have been so very different.
I stood in the shower for several minutes with my eyes closed as the hot water cascaded over me, seeking comfort from the warmth.
A strong tea and a chat with Trevor helped me feel more like myself but it didn’t take long before the restlessness set in.
Maybe I should start a new crafting project?
Or decide on the new skill I’d learn this year as I hadn’t yet done that.
I went back upstairs into my craft room to seek inspiration but found myself staring blankly at the shelves.
The rain had stopped and, although it was still windy, the sun had put in an appearance. I checked the weather app on my phone to see whether it was temporary, but it indicated sun and cloud for the rest of the day. I’d go for a walk instead, blowing off the proverbial cobwebs.
* * *
Pippinthwaite wasn’t quite as picturesque as Willowdale with its enviable position between Derwent Water and the fells, but it was still a pretty village.
It was bigger than Willowdale thanks to the two housing estates stretching the borders to the east and west, but it had fewer amenities – one pub compared to Willowdale’s two and a small café which wasn’t a patch on The White Willow in terms of space or food range.
The butcher was excellent and Betsy had said the hairdresser was superb, but I hadn’t tried her.
Going to the hairdresser wasn’t my thing.
I’d only ever coloured my hair from a box dye and Cliff had always cut it for me – something I attempted myself these days although a cut was now long overdue.
I set off from our estate in the east. It was late morning and there were a fair few folk about.
Young children in colourful wellington boots splashed through the puddles and couples linked arms or held hands, love and contentment radiating from them as they faced a fresh year together.
Watching two dogs chasing each other on the village green, I wondered for the umpteenth time whether a dog might take the edge off the long days by myself, but I couldn’t have one because of Trevor. Dogs and parrots didn’t mix.
As I approached The Fox and Rabbit which overlooked the village green, the door opened and a young man emerged holding an A-board which he secured to the wall with some chains.
Happy New Year to our wonderful customers!
We used to be customers. Cliff and I had enjoyed Sunday lunch in there every few weeks followed by a walk around the village to burn off the pudding.
I’d booked the function room for his wake but had never stepped inside since.
Cliff would be disappointed in me for not supporting our local business.
Not that I supported a chain instead – I just didn’t go out at all.
I continued past the pub. The houses all around the green were the oldest and, in my opinion, the prettiest in the village.
Milly had said she lived in an old cottage near the pub, but I wasn’t sure which one.
I imagined she’d have a beautifully presented home but, as they all looked good, that didn’t help me narrow it down.
I glanced back towards The Fox and Rabbit.
When Cake & Craft Club resumed, could I be bold and ask Milly if she fancied meeting me in the pub for lunch one day or for an evening drink?
Perhaps we could extend the invitation to the others?
I shook my head and tutted to myself. I was getting carried away.
One step at a time. I’d see if Paulette held me to that raincheck for a Chinese and take it from there.
I’d reached the far end of the village. Wandering aimlessly around the other estate didn’t appeal so I headed for a tree-flanked track which skirted the top of Pippinthwaite and emerged near the village green.
It was a lovely walk with rays of sunlight dancing between the branches, making the puddles shine.
‘Will!’ a woman called and I stopped dead, my breath held, my heart pounding.
A Lakeland terrier ran past me and a woman appeared round the bend, a dog lead in her hand, gasping for breath. She grimaced at me before calling, ‘Will!’ once more and resuming her chase.
Every. Single. Time. Will was a common name and every time I heard it, I had the exact same reaction. How was it that I still thought about him after twenty years? Still dreamed. Still hoped.
When I got back home, my cheeks red from the cold and my hair in knots from where the wind had whipped it, I made a mug of tea before removing the old slimline calendar from the wall and turning over my new one to January.
I didn’t want every month to be blank like it had been for most of last year and I didn’t want the only entries to be my weekly Cake & Craft Club either.
Cliff and I had always gone out together for coffee, meals, walks, trips to the cinema or theatre and on holiday.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel comfortable enough in my own skin to go out for a meal or on holiday on my own, but what was stopping me going for walks or to the cinema or theatre?
I’d done that on my own loads of times before I lost Cliff.
And what was stopping me asking any of my new Cake & Craft Club friends if they wanted to join me for any of those things?
Me! I was stopping me. It was that little voice in my head that told me that when you started spending time with people, you had to talk to them about more than the weather and everyday life.
You needed to exchange stories about the past and that was where things became tricky.
Would they understand? Would they judge?
Would they walk away? I couldn’t bear the thought of that, but fear of rejection had controlled my life for far too long and I didn’t want it to anymore.
I’d had enough of keeping my distance from people so they didn’t get a chance to push me away.
I had a milestone birthday coming up on the 18th of the month and I was damned if I was going to let fear control my sixties.
I was in charge. I was going to make this year special and the first step had to be letting my new friends in.