16. Stirring things up
STIRRING THINGS UP
It was almost nine o’clock by the time Ursula got up.
Quite late by her standards. It must have been the talking into the early hours with Andi and the lack of sleep that followed.
They’d spent all night reminiscing about the happy times, before Pablo arrived on the scene and before she’d married Anton.
It was amazing how they’d found so much to talk about but, once they’d started, they were drowning in good memories.
You’d think that would have been enough to send her to sleep with a warm feeling inside, but all she had in there was regret.
Charlie Big Potatoes was sitting on the kitchen table.
He gave her an imperious look but eventually decided she was worth his attention and jumped down to greet her with a loud wail and a leg rub.
The noise made Don look up from the sink where he’d been washing the dishes.
‘Morning. Help yourself to breakfast. They’re all out working on the bothy, except for Esme.
I think she’s out there staring at the vegetables and willing them to grow. ’
‘Is Andi working on it as well?’
‘Yep.’
They wouldn’t be resuming last night’s conversation this morning then. Ursula put the kettle on and cut two slices of bread for the toaster. ‘I’ll go and help them too.’
‘You don’t have to. I mean, we all do our bit but it’s not compulsory.’
‘I like to be busy.’ That was an understatement.
She needed to be busy. It stopped her thinking about things that troubled her, although she wasn’t so sure that was the case anymore.
Lately, those things had a way of crossing through.
Maybe she just hadn’t been busy enough. Although it could just as easily be the lack of structure.
Her mind drifted back to the allotment while she was waiting for the toast to pop up.
She’d have already done a good few hours work by now if she was there.
Don was wiping his hands dry, his forehead wrinkled up like he was trying to solve a puzzle. ‘I know what you mean. Helps to keep your mind occupied. Cooking’s the thing for me. I’m always thinking of new things to try.’
‘You’re very good at it. Were you a chef before you came here?’
‘Only an amateur one. My last job was a taxi driver in Aberystwyth.’
‘That must have been busy.’
‘Depended on the season. A lot of the time you were just waiting around for jobs.’
‘I expect that can be a bit lonely.’
Even though she didn’t think it was possible, Don screwed his forehead up even tighter until it looked almost painful, then he let it relax.
‘It could be, but I ended up here because of it so I can’t complain, can I?
I picked Pablo up once when he’d had too many bevvies to drive home.
It’s a good hour and twenty, door to door, so we had plenty of time to talk.
You know Pablo, he can talk. I suppose he sold the place to me.
The next day he was back in Aber to pick up his car and he came to find me.
Said they had a spare room going if I was interested.
Been here ever since. Can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.
It’s not the same since Pab left, mind.’
Ah, Pablo. The man everybody loved and the man who loved everybody equally. Perhaps too equally.
Esme was in the middle of the vegetable patch wearing her customary sour expression.
Ursula couldn’t help wondering what kind of life she’d led to make her so permanently angry.
It was this thought alone that made her put on her veil smile and wish Esme a good morning.
She received a blank stare and a nod in return. It was progress, she supposed.
Brett, Howard and Andi were in consultation over some boulders when she reached them. ‘We’re trying to work out which ones go where. It’s been slow progress so far,’ said Andi. ‘We need an expert really, but that costs money.’
Anton would have worked it out easily. He had an eye for that sort of thing.
That said, Anton would have pulled the whole thing down and replaced it with something stunningly modern in its place.
Then he would have built a wall around it and kept it for himself.
Ursula tried to imagine how he would have approached it.
No, she couldn’t. But she could think of it in a different way.
She could imagine it through her mum’s eye.
‘I was thinking, how would Mum have done it?’
Andi thought for a minute, then smiled. ‘She would have looked for shapes and patterns.’
‘Your mum was a builder?’ said Brett.
Ursula shook her head. ‘She was a dressmaker. One of the best in her day.’
‘And a designer,’ added Andi.
‘She would have said she was more of a magpie than a designer.’
Andi tutted and rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, but we both know that wasn’t true. We’ll lay this wall out on the ground first. Look for patterns and shapes. Let’s be more Gillian.’
Howard patted a bewildered looking Brett on the back. ‘You heard her, man. Let’s be more Gillian.’
They each picked up a rock from the pile that had previously been created and put them down in a clear space, then four more, and another four.
It took a few more rounds before they found three that looked like they belonged together.
They shuffled rocks this way and that, picked them up and re-placed them, and slowly, very slowly the missing wall began to appear.
Esteban, who’d been keeping a distant eye on proceedings, didn’t help when he decided it was more fun to pick up stones and add them to the mix.
But by the time Esme came to tell them lunch was ready, at least a quarter of the wall had been laid out on the ground.
They walked back to the house and all the talk was about how well it was going.
‘Well you lot look happy,’ said Don as they queued up to wash their hands.
‘We’ve had a good morning,’ said Andi.
Howard took his turn at the tap. ‘You know, I actually had a great morning. I’d like to know more about Gillian.’
Andi sat down at the table. ‘Gillian Fry could take one look at a person and work out exactly what style would suit them. Exactly where an extra stitch or a tuck was needed. And then she’d just sketch something out without even blinking. The woman was a genius. Wouldn’t you say, Urs?’
‘So how come we’ve never heard of her,’ said Esme, already bringing the mood down.
How come indeed? Her mum should have been celebrated.
She should have been allowed to grow and fulfil her ambitions.
‘For the same reason so many women get overlooked,’ said Ursula.
‘Men. Men with their money and power. She was treated badly by my father and his family. She had to leave her chosen profession and get an office job to support us.’
‘That’s really shit,’ said Esme in an uncommon moment of empathy.
‘Yes it was. She made lots of sacrifices in her life.’
‘I still have that first dress she designed for me,’ said Andi. ‘The one the three of us made together. Do you remember it?’
‘Your Marilyn Monroe dress. Funnily enough I was thinking about it last night.’
They’d carried on working through the afternoon until it was too dark to see properly.
No one mentioned her mum again. She’d probably put them off with her rare flash of anger.
Thinking of her father still did that to her.
Most of the time she gave the impression of someone who floated through life, untouched by the kind of things that would crush a less spiritual soul.
It was all crap really. Ursula wasn’t at all spiritual and she hurt, she bled as much as the next person.
Only a few people saw that in her and of those select few, only Andi was still around.
Don had produced another fine dinner. It made her realise just how long it had been since she’d cooked a proper meal.
Six years probably. Not that she missed it.
She had been a good cook though. She’d learned out of necessity.
All those tiresome dinner parties for Anton’s clients and friends.
When she’d said yes to his highly inadequate proposal she’d had no idea what she’d let herself in for.
And that wasn’t just when it came to cooking.
She should have listened to her gut instincts instead of giving in to lust. Because that’s all it was.
Carnal desire. Pure and simple. It certainly wasn’t love.
She didn’t even know what love was. Until it hit her.
After dinner, the roaring fire in the lounge tempted her in. A long soak in the bath would have been nice, but one of the drawbacks of this place was that hot water and bathroom time were in short supply, so she’d have to bathe in the soothing warmth of the fire instead.
It wasn’t long before Howard put his head around the door. ‘I’m not disturbing you, am I?’
‘Not at all.’ She’d been expecting it to be Andi and had to resort, once again, to her veil smile to mask the disappointment.
They sat in silence watching the flames. It reminded her of when she and Samuel used to sit together in the evenings on the allotment. Samuel was one of those few people who saw through her. She didn’t have to pretend with him. That was what made him such good company.
‘I’m sorry I asked about your mother earlier.’ He was still looking at the fire when he said it.
‘It really wasn’t a problem.’ The veil smile was back again.
‘I think I stirred things up. For you and Andi. That wasn’t my intention.’
His eyes met hers. She thought of Samuel again and wished it were him she was talking to. ‘We were very close, the three of us.’ Most of the time anyway, but that was between only her and Andi.
‘I got lucky with my parents. They had a very happy marriage. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you and your mother.’
She said nothing. What was there to say that would change anything? ‘How is your wife? Andi said she’s unwell.’
‘Most days she’s lost. Occasionally, she has a good day. I didn’t want to leave her but the kids persuaded me to take a break. Have you ever been around someone with Alzheimer’s?’ She shook her head. ‘You feel so damn useless.’
‘So you came here to feel useful. The photos. Committing each step on the hill to memory so you can relate them back to her.’
‘Sounds a little crazy, right?’
‘It sounds like an act of love.’
‘It won’t bring her back to me though. I know it, but I still keep walking up that damn hill every day.’
She wanted to reach out and take hold of his hand.
If it had been Samuel, she would have done, and God knows this man had a way about him that reminded her of Samuel in his later years.
But this was Howard. She didn’t know him and it wasn’t appropriate.
And besides, they were both so very vulnerable.