39. Goodbyes
Chapter 39
Goodbyes
T hey waited underneath the porch with the sturdy, round cardboard box in Amy’s hands as Peter walked up the lane towards them, head down against the wind. He’d brought old Jen and she plodded solidly behind him.
‘Ready, then?’ he asked.
Amy nodded. ‘Are you sure about this? It could wait, you know.’
‘Not now you’ve come all this way. I’m ready to say goodbye – and I think you are too,’ he said.
Amy took Matt’s hand and they walked up the path towards the tarn with Peter just behind them. Amy let herself think about all those times she’d walked this path with her mam, and she expected the tears to come, but today they didn’t. The memory comforted her rather than making her feel bereft. It was as if her mam walked beside her whispering in her ear, but just too far away for Amy to hear her. They reached Loverswater and stopped beside the great heart-shaped stones which gave the tarn its name.
‘Right. Are you ready?’ Matt said. Amy nodded, and put her hand to the lid of the circular box .
‘Do you think I should say something? Do you want to say something?’ she asked Peter.
‘Everything I wanted to say to her was said long ago,’ he said. ‘You say summat, if you want to.’
‘Goodbye, Mam.’ Amy waited and hoped something else would come to her, the perfect words floating on the wind over the tarn, but nothing did. She’d expected the same tearing pain she had felt at the funeral, but as she stared down at the dark waters of the tarn, she felt nothing at all. He mam had gone long ago, and she’d already said all her goodbyes. This was the final full stop in a long letter of farewell.
It was time.
‘Goodbye,’ she said again.
She took the lid off the sealed cardboard box and began to shake the ashes into the tarn. The water was choppy and grey. It reflected the darkness of the slate scree rising up beyond the water and the pewter sky. The ash floated for a moment and then was gone, whirled away up the valley on the breeze or into the tarn; grey specks disappearing into the landscape where they belonged.
Amy waited for the inevitable wave of grief to overwhelm her, the one which came whenever she saw that box. The wave didn’t come. Instead a fresh breeze blew through her grief. Her mother was everywhere now. She was in the water and the wind and the clouds and the stones beneath their feet. She was there in Amy’s heart, tending the roses in her garden, smiling over Harry’s crib when he was a baby, sitting in her chair beside the fire in the cottage or climbing up the path to swim in the tarn, laughing over her shoulder.
Instead of feeling her absence everywhere, now Amy felt her presence. She’d expected to cry and had even brought a packet of tissues, but there were no tears.
‘Are you okay?’ Matt held out a hand.
‘Yes, I am. Really, I am. What about you, Peter?’
‘Ay,’ was all Peter would say. ‘Me and Jen’ll take a bit of a walk, I think. No offence, like. Just want some time to meself. Before I get back to our mam.’
Peter headed further up the track, and Matt and Amy turned back. The rain, which had held off while they scattered the ashes, started to fall again as they approached Elder Fell Cottage, and Matt opened the door for her. The sitting room was empty. Amy looked at her mother’s empty place. There was no longer any resentment that it was empty, or Diane so often chose to sit there. If Diane needed a comfortable spot by the fire, then Amy didn’t begrudge her it, not any more. If Diane could accept Amy’s presence where Stella had once been, then she could accept Diane sitting beside her mam’s fire. In the end, Diane was like the rest of them, struggling along watching for a signal in the darkness. She didn’t have the answers, any more than Amy or Matt did.
‘I’ll make a cup of tea,’ Matt said over his shoulder as he headed through to the kitchen.
Amy followed. ‘Or we could have a glass of something stronger? A toast to Mam – even if Diane did drink all the sherry.’
‘There’s some red wine left in this bottle, enough for a glass each.’
‘It would be a nice treat. But not too much because the boys and Diane’ll probably be back soon.’
‘Look!’ Matt pointed above his head. There, tucked amongst the exposed beams, was the kissing bunch Diane had put out of the back door when she arrived. A little more dishevelled, some of the branches appeared to have been shoved back into the bunch, but the red berries of the holly and the pearly ones of the mistletoe shone out against the dark wood of the beams. ‘The mistletoe’s back.’
‘So it is!’ She grinned as she looked up.
‘It would be rude not to take advantage of it.’ He pulled her underneath it and they kissed.
‘Diane must have put it back. It’s a sign,’ Amy said. ‘Wait a minute, there’s a note on the table.’
Matt picked up one of Diane’s characteristic notes from the table.
Dear Matt and Amy,
When you return from the tarn, I thought you would appreciate some time alone together. I have taken some laundry down to the campsite washing machine, as I have stayed here rather longer than I was expecting to and needed to wash some items. As I will wait at the farm for it to be dry, please don’t expect me, and the boys, to return to the cottage until late afternoon. They will be perfectly happy with the puppies, and Pat will appreciate the company.
Yours,
Diane.
‘Some time alone together,’ Amy repeated when Matt finished the note. ‘You know what that means?’
‘Already thought of it.’ Matt drained his wine glass. ‘Come here. Put that glass down.’ And, as he had done this morning, he swept her up into his arms. ‘Shall we go upstairs?’
‘I think I would like that very much.’ She clasped him round the neck and kissed him.
Even though there was nobody else in the house, they still closed the bedroom door very firmly behind them and bolted it shut.
Afterwards, they lay together in bed for a little while, in no rush to leave the warmth of the duvet. Amy played with a strand of her hair as she watched the light reflected on the ceiling from the puddles outside.
‘Today really feels like a beginning of something, doesn’t it?’ Matt said.
‘Perhaps New Year has come a few days early.’ She snuggled into his shoulder and he put an arm around her. They lay comfortably and companionably.
‘That’s what losing my job means – not an end, but a new beginning.’
‘Sounds good to me.’
‘I’d planned to ask you something this Christmas. Losing my job made me think that I couldn’t, but perhaps it doesn’t make any difference.’
‘What?’ She was intrigued – and hopeful.
‘I was going to ask you to move in with me and Oliver. I know that flat’s too small for you and Harry, and I thought if I sold the house we could move somewhere with enough room for all of us, which would be much more practical.’
‘And is that the only reason?’ she said with a wicked grin. ‘It would be more practical?’
‘No! You know it isn’t. It’s because I want to wake up like this with you beside me every morning. It needn’t be an expensive house in Saddleton. We could move somewhere cheaper, even out into the countryside if we wanted. What do you think?’
She didn’t even have to think about it. ‘I think that sounds amazing. Let’s do it.’
‘It might take a while for Oliver to come round to the idea of moving out of his mum’s house. I don’t want to rush him.’
‘But when he does we can be together, properly, all the time.’ They smiled and each enjoyed seeing their own happiness reflected in the face of the other. ‘There’s just one thing,’ Amy said.
‘What?’
‘We said no more secrets. So that means we’ll have to tell the boys.’
‘Yep. But maybe … not right now …’
When they came downstairs an hour later, refreshed and glowing, the world was a much better place.
‘The fire’s out. I’ll light it again so it’s nice and warm when Diane and the boys get back.’ Amy plumped up the cushions on the sofas, then she balled paper into the centre of the grate and stacked kindling around it as Matt fetched some more logs in from the store beside the back door. The little flames grew into bigger flames, and soon the dancing light flickered around the walls of the cottage.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever felt happier than I do right now.’ He stacked the wood beside the fireplace.
‘Me neither.’ She put a couple of the smaller logs on the fire. ‘Listen, I can hear voices. I think they’re back.’
Amy got to her feet as two voices outside were raised in a raucous chorus of Mam and Dad sitting in a tree and the door swung open with a crash. A gust of cold wind blew into the cottage. Cold, but not icy. The weather was much milder than it had been.
‘Guess what?’ Harry announced loudly as he kicked his boots off and sent them tumbling across the living room floor.
‘What?’ Matt and Amy said together.
‘We finished Winter Holiday at the farm. Diane read it to us, and they all ended up at the North Pole in a blizzard. Dot and Dick …’ there was a slight pause for giggling ‘… got lost in the snow. But nobody froze in an iceberg or nothing.’ He sounded oddly disappointed.
‘Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it.’ Amy picked up his discarded boots as Diane followed the boys into the cottage and shut the door behind them. ‘Thank you for taking care of them this afternoon, Diane.’
‘It was the least I could do.’ Diane unwrapped the cashmere scarf from her neck then folded it carefully and placed it on the window seat with her sheepskin gloves on top.
‘She read all about Dick and Titty –’ Harry began.
‘Well done for thinking to take the book with you,’ Matt said, hurriedly cutting him short.
‘I didn’t. Mrs Thompson found the copy they have at the farm, and it was her idea to read with the boys. She said it was in one of the old letting bedrooms, and nobody had read it for years. Here.’ From inside her coat she pulled out a hardback book in an orange and white dust wrapper. ‘There’s something interesting inside.’
She handed the book to Amy and went through to the boot room to hang up her coat. Amy opened the book and a small, folded piece of paper fell out, yellowed around the edges, with a note written in a thick black fountain pen.
‘To Mr and Mrs Thompson, with my sincerest congratulations on the birth of baby Reggie, a little gift for him as a token of my gratitude for your hospitality over many years. I hope, when he is older, he will recognise your barn in this story!’
‘Baby Reggie? That must be old Mr Thompson!’ Amy said. ‘Do you think this means –’
‘Look here, on the title page of the book. There’s an autograph. It’s the same pen, isn’t it?’ Matt pointed .
And indeed, the thick swirling letters of the signature were the same as the letter in her hand. Two words. ‘Arthur Ransome’.
‘It’s our barn!’ Oliver bubbled over with the excitement.
‘It was our barn that was signalling to Mars!’ Harry added.
‘Mrs Thompson thought the boys might like to keep it,’ Diane said as she came back into the room. ‘Given that Peter is too old for storybooks.’
‘That’s so kind of her.’ Amy breathed in the scent of old pages.
‘She also offered us the use of the cottage if we wanted to come back for the funeral. It’ll be at least three weeks, according to the undertaker. I thought you might like to come.’ She took a seat beside the fire and held out her hands to the blaze which was already well established.
‘I would. We can probably make it there and back in the day though. James and Laurie’ll be back from their honeymoon by then, so I can ask them to have Harry – and possibly Oliver too.’ Amy sat on the sofa opposite Diane.
‘If they can’t, I could always babysit for you.’ Diane said it hesitantly, not as if she was unsure about what she was offering but as if she was unsure about how the offer would be received.
‘I couldn’t possibly ask you to look after Harry, as well as Oliver,’ Amy said.
‘They’ll be company for each other, and Harry and I can always talk about dogs, can’t we Harry?’ Diane could be very persuasive.
Harry nodded his head vigorously.
‘And I’d like to now we’re going to be family,’ she added.
Going to be family . It had a nice ring to it, and Amy smiled. ‘ Thank you.’
‘If we’re going to be a family, does that mean we’re going to live in the same house? All of us? Even Mrs. Willis?’ Harry asked as he bounced into the seat beside his mother. Amy looked up at Matt, who smiled and nodded.
‘Maybe not Granny Diane, but you and your mam with me and Olly,’ Matt said. ‘One day. But not until you and Oliver feel ready,’ she said. ‘What do you think?’
Oliver was silent, but he didn’t say no, and Harry had more than enough to say for both of them: ‘Yeah. I’m ready now, because if we’re a family and we have a house and we don’t have to live in that flat, then can we have a puppy?’ He was practically dancing with excitement.
‘That’s moving very fast, Harry. I don’t think we’ll be ready to adopt a puppy quite yet,’ said Amy.
‘Mrs Thompson would let us have the little black one. She said so. Please, Mam?’
‘Not yet, Harry.’
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Diane slowly. ‘How much I liked animals when I was younger. Perhaps I’m not too old yet to take on a dog. Some companionship would be good, and it would get me out of the house.’
‘That’s an excellent idea,’ Matt said.
‘Maybe, if Mrs Thompson would be agreeable, when the puppies need homes, I might see if I could take one. Perhaps the little black one you seem so set on, the pair of you? Then you could come and visit her whenever you want to.’
‘Even me?’ said Harry. ‘Could I come and visit if I promise to behave?’
‘ Especially you, as you were so good with her. And what about you, Olly?’
‘I’ll come if Harry does.’
‘I’ll need someone to take her for walks from time to time, if I don’t feel up to it. Perhaps you could help me out?’ Diane spoke to Harry in particular.
‘Yeah! I could teach it tricks, and to round up sheep and pigeons. Thanks, Mrs. Willis!’
‘We’ll see about that, shall we?’ she said. ‘And I think we know each other well enough now that you can stop calling me Mrs Willis.’
‘Cool! Thanks, Di–’
‘Granny Diane will do fine.’
‘Thanks, Granny Diane,’ said Harry.
‘I’ve thought of a name for the puppy,’ said Olly. ‘You could call the puppy Jet. It has to be a ‘J’ name, doesn’t it, and that’s what it says on the carved cupboard there. J.E.T., Jet.’
‘There’s a lot of black in their coat, so that would be most appropriate,’ Diane agreed.
‘And it’s going to go dead fast like a plane in the sky.’ Harry zoomed around the living room, arms outstretched, whilst barking.
‘And if Jet comes to stay with us sometimes, when your Granny goes on holiday, perhaps it would be nice to live somewhere that didn’t have white carpets, and somewhere that had a bigger garden that Jet could play in. What do you think, Olly? Would you like that?’ Matt said. They looked at each other.
There was a moment’s pause before Oliver spoke. ‘I … wouldn’t mind. I guess,’ he said with a brave smile. ‘But not quite yet.’
‘No, not quite yet,’ Matt agreed, and he met Amy’s eye, and they nodded in agreement.
‘Now that’s sorted, I’m ready for a cup of tea. Would anyone else like one?’ Diane grasped the arm of the sofa as if she was about to get to her feet.
‘It’s okay. I’ll get it.’ Amy went into the kitchen. She put the kettle on and bent down to get out the tin of mince pies. As she placed it on the worktop, she glanced out of the window to the high path above the cottage. Even as she did, a shaft of sunlight broke through the heaped clouds; a thin line of fiery light shining on the rock high up above the cottage where they’d found Mr Thompson, and where she had seen the tall, thin, grey figure the night before. She would never know if she’d seen the ghostly grey lady foretelling his death, or just a hillwalker heading home along the drovers’ path. There was no-one up there now, as the shaft of sunlight faded and the rock merged back into the hillside behind it. She drew the curtain and shut out the twilight and the ghosts.
She turned to go back into the warmth of the living room. Diane sat in her place beside the fire and turned over the pages of Winter Holiday and the boys were drawing maps of the valley on the back of some Christmas wrapping paper in front of the fire. Matt, who was closing the shutters to keep out the cold, looked over his shoulder and smiled as she entered the room.
It might not be perfect, but it was their family Christmas.