Chapter 14
Back at home after my Sunday roast with Milly, I couldn’t stop smiling as I wrote our February lunch date on the calendar – my first entry that wasn’t a Cake & Craft Club meeting!
Was this the start of living for me? I added in the first Sunday for the next few months and felt hopeful about adding further events, although I realised that meant me stepping forward and taking the lead rather than waiting for the others to suggest them.
Milly had shown a clear interest in the cinema and theatre and we’d exchanged phone numbers so I’d definitely get in touch when I spotted something that would appeal to us both.
Inspired by the way in which Milly’s journal had instigated such a major change in her life, I looked back over what I’d written.
I still couldn’t think of a third start entry but the others definitely reflected how I wanted my year to pan out.
My priority was living and I felt as though I’d made great progress with that and would continue to do so as long as I kept the momentum going.
As for start loving and feel love, it could relate to friendship and it could also mean self-love – something I definitely needed to work on – but my real intention was romantic love.
Like Milly, I wanted to find someone special who loved me with all their heart in every way possible for the rest of my days.
I closed my eyes, hoping to manifest it, but all I could conjure up was Will’s face.
‘Stop it!’ I murmured to myself. ‘You had your chance and you blew it.’
* * *
That evening, I went online and ordered some washi tape and stickers in designs which reflected my plans.
The following morning, I nipped into Keswick to check out the shops stocking stationery and craft supplies and bought up a few more items, which meant I could crack on with my journal rather than waiting for my online order to arrive.
Committing most of the entries to paper gave me a fizz of excitement around taking control of my life at last and pulling myself out of my reclusive slump.
But the entry around stopping chasing a relationship with Marianne made me sad.
I knew it was the right thing for me – and for my sister too, considering how she reacted around me – but I hated how cutting out my only remaining family member was essential to truly move on with my life.
Between journalling, I spent time online checking out the sale prices of houses like mine in Pippinthwaite and searching for a potential new home.
There were six houses currently for sale in Willowdale.
Four were too big or financially out of my reach but there were two possibilities so, on Wednesday afternoon, I set off for Cake & Craft Club half an hour early to walk around the village and check them out.
The first was an old semi-detached cottage which I ruled out immediately – too similar to my childhood home.
The second was a 1950s-built semi on the edge of the village and I shook my head.
What had I been thinking? It was significantly larger than my current house and Trevor and I didn’t need all the space we had now.
When I moved, I needed to downsize rather than go bigger.
I returned to my car and removed my bag from the boot.
As I hadn’t decided on my next quilting project, I’d brought my journal with me, intending to finish decorating the last couple of entries.
Paulette and Saffy were walking towards the village hall and Saffy was pulling a pink crate on wheels behind her.
‘Lovely to see you again,’ I said to Saffy, ‘but I thought you were going back to your mum and dad’s.’
‘I was. I did. And it was an epic fail so I’m back with Grandma for a while.’
‘My bag’s heavy,’ Paulette said to Saffy. ‘Would you be a sweetheart and take everything inside?’
Saffy took Paulette’s bag and disappeared into the village hall.
‘Did I put my foot in it?’ I asked, grimacing.
‘Not at all, but I wanted to give you an update. Saffy caught the train home last Thursday and told Andrew and Joanne that her mind was made up and she wasn’t returning to Birmingham.
Joanne hit the roof and said they were meant to be talking about it before any big decisions were made.
Saffy, quite rightly, said that they’d already talked a lot and Joanne clearly wasn’t going to change her mind but Saffy wasn’t either and, as she was an adult now and this was about her future, she had the ultimate say.
She asked if they could take her to Birmingham to clear her room in the halls and Joanne refused.
She said that if Saffy was determined to be an independent adult then she could behave like one, starting with working out for herself how to get her belongings back. ’
I winced. ‘That’s harsh.’
Paulette nodded. ‘I don’t understand why she’s digging her heels in so hard. Saffy caught the train across to Birmingham on Saturday, I drove down to meet her and we cleared her room together. Now Andrew and Joanne aren’t speaking to me.’
‘Oh, Paulette, I’m so sorry. But what did they expect you to do? Abandon Saffy when she needed you?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s been a difficult start to the year to say the least but it’ll all come out in the wash eventually.’
‘If there’s anything I can do…’
Paulette smiled. ‘I appreciate that. What I need right now is cake but it’s Veronica’s turn and it had better not be carrot, beetroot or parsnip.’
‘She’s made parsnip cake before?’
‘No, but I wouldn’t put it past her.’
As it turned out, Veronica had baked the most divine red velvet cake with a mouthwatering cream cheese frosting which had Paulette and I salivating and longing for seconds.
Milly usually favoured needle felting but had brought a cross-stitch kit with her today – a beautiful sunset view of Castlerigg Stone Circle – and Paulette was knitting a cardigan for Saffy, but I wasn’t the only one working on my journal.
Veronica, Laughlin and a few of the other members had brought theirs with them and I was impressed by the way Saffy passed round us all, checking we had enough materials and giving design ideas.
All the while, she had a smile on her face which was amazing considering the turmoil she must be feeling right now.
‘Did you go with Saffy’s questions?’ I asked Veronica when she returned from the kitchen with a fresh cup of tea for me halfway through the meeting.
‘I rather liked her suggestion of making a journal full of favourite recipes so I decided to make one each for Rebecca and Felicity.’
I pulled my chair closer to hers and she showed me what she’d created so far.
‘We did a lot of baking together when they were little and I always made them a special birthday cake so I’ve got quite a few photos of them baking and blowing out candles and I thought it would be a nice touch to include them all.’
‘That’s such a lovely idea,’ I said, smiling at a photo of them as young girls licking cake mixture from wooden spoons. ‘I used to bake a lot with my mum too and I seem to remember her taking a photo of me doing that.’
I flicked through the rest of the journal. ‘I’m sure your daughters will love it.’
‘I hope so but, if they don’t, I’ve loved the process although it won’t be quite as enjoyable making an exact duplicate.’
‘You’re not making them different?’
‘I wouldn’t dare! They might live in different countries but I guarantee they’ll compare them and if Rebecca likes something in Felicity’s journal more than in hers, or vice versa, I’ll never hear the end of it.’
Veronica sounded fed up, which wasn’t like her. ‘They’re really that bad?’
She nodded. ‘Everything’s about one-upmanship. They claim it’s just a bit of fun and I should lighten up, but how does one lighten up when one’s eldest daughter questions why one’s youngest heard the news of their father’s death first?’
I pressed my hand to my mouth, shocked that Veronica’s daughter would make a comment like that at such a terrible time. And it had clearly had a lasting impact on Veronica, given her strained voice and pained expression.
‘They were six and nine in this photo,’ Veronica said, lightly tapping the image with her index finger.
‘They were so close but it all changed around the time Felicity hit her teen years. Now, if there’s a family gathering, they’re all smiles and politeness but I see an undercurrent.
Something happened to drive a wedge between them but, any time I raise it, they tell me I’m imagining it.
I’m not. My girls despise each other and I don’t know why. ’
The pain in her voice and the hurt and confusion in her eyes made me think of Mum’s disappointment that Marianne and I weren’t close. I wished I could offer Veronica some advice or a solution but nothing Mum or I had tried had ever yielded positive results.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said. ‘I hope you know it’s not your fault.’
Veronica looked up at me. ‘How did you know I was blaming myself?’
‘Because my mum blamed herself for my sister Marianne and me not getting on, but it wasn’t her.
She did everything she possibly could have to make us friends and, for whatever reason, Marianne didn’t want to know.
Sometimes siblings just don’t get on and there’s nothing anyone can do about it so please, please don’t blame yourself.
This is between them and maybe one day something will happen to make them address it and maybe it won’t, but the most important thing is your relationship with them. ’