Chapter Fifty-Eight
As we walked back to the car, Dylan caught hold of my hand. His fingers interlocked with mine.
The night air was cool and soothing after the events of the last thirty minutes. As we strode along, our heels clicked loudly on the pavement. We were a couple eager to be elsewhere. Keen to put something behind us.
It dawned on me that Dylan might have had a lucky escape. Yet again I was reminded of the thin line between this world and the next. Maybe Dylan was thinking likewise. Certainly, the pair of us were quiet, each with our own thoughts.
As we eventually headed out of West Malling, Dylan was the first to speak.
‘I guess I can cancel my appointment with Gardener and Stewart Solicitors,’ he said wryly. ‘After all, an eviction order is no longer required.’
I blew out my cheeks.
‘Indeed. Likewise, your rental of Catkin Cottage. Thanks to Jill overseeing her own eviction, you can remain in your own home.’
Dylan cleared his throat.
‘You’d be right to think that. But you’re wrong.’
I glanced at him.
‘Oh?’
‘You know, it’s amazing how some high drama can put your life in perspective,’ he declared softly. ‘I’m going ahead with the rental. I shall move into Catkin Cottage and put my property on the market. That way, there will be no chain. My house will be easier to sell.’
‘Wow,’ I said in astonishment. ‘Is this decision because you have bad memories of Jill being there?’
‘Yes, and no,’ he said. ‘The fact is, Maggie, I’ve been rattling around the place for ages.’
The car slowed for a pedestrian crossing. A gaggle of rowdy youths, high on alcohol and camaraderie, staggered across the road. We set off again.
‘Jennifer is gone’ – Dylan continued – ‘and Terry left home yonks ago. Now it’s just me and Charlie. What am I doing living in a family-sized home? Of course there are good memories. More recently, some unpleasant ones. But the latter isn’t the real reason for coming to this decision. I think tonight simply flagged up that it’s time to move on. Let someone else live there. A young couple. Preferably with little ones or wanting to start a family. They can put their own stamp on the place. Make their own memories. But for me, I’m ready to write new chapters. As I said, tonight’s episode simply put it all into perspective.’
For a moment I didn’t say anything. I knew what Dylan was talking about. What he was touching upon. Recently, I’d had similar thoughts myself. Now and again. The kids too. Only recently Ruby had buttonholed me.
‘For heaven’s sake, Mum! Why are you changing the linen in bedrooms that nobody sleeps in?’
Ella had seconded Ruby’s sentiments but also gone one step further. She’d dared to suggest I was bored and needed something to do.
‘Why else would you keep vacuuming rooms that are empty?’ she’d persisted. ‘I can’t understand why you don’t sell up.’
Tim had flashed his sisters a sharp look.
Girls, pipe down. Mum feels that Dad is still here. And she’s not leaving Dad any time soon.
Ruby and Ella had both made fair points. Indeed, why was I making work for myself with those empty rooms? Not forgetting the garden. Huge. And vast flowerbeds that required hours of backbreaking weeding.
But I’d felt that I was doing the latter for Greg. And the former… well, again for Greg. Because, despite all the photographs dotted about, it was my way of keeping him close to me.
Nonetheless, Dylan’s words resonated with me. If I moved too, I’d not really be leaving Greg. After all, he was in my heart. And always would be.
‘Food for thought?’ said Dylan, glancing at me.
I opened my mouth to say something. For a moment nothing came out.
‘I think…’
‘Yes?’ Dylan prompted.
‘I think you’ve spoken wise words,’ I said thoughtfully.
He flashed me a smile.
‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
The BMW took a left and came to a halt on my driveway.
Home. The marital home. The house I’d shared with Greg. I suddenly realised that I wanted – as Dylan had so succinctly put it – to write some new chapters of my own. It was time. But a fresh start couldn’t be made here. And it was in that split-second moment that I made my decision. I’d do the same as Dylan. Put my house on the market. In fact, I’d do it first thing on Monday morning.
I had no idea where I’d go. Or what area to look at. Maybe I’d leave Little Waterlow. After all, it was only a matter of time before Mabel Plaistow got wind of tonight’s episode in The Swan. Heaven only knew how she’d rehash the drama. By the time Mabel had finished, Jill might have swapped that steak knife for Chef’s carving blade, with Dylan’s heart on the menu. I could almost hear the camp waiter: “Would you like that with chunky chips or mash?”
I mentally shook the gruesome thought away. Unbuckled my seatbelt. Turned to Dylan.
‘Come on in,’ I said with a smile.