Chapter Sixty-Nine
Two months later
‘I have a surprise for you,’ said Dylan, coming into the kitchen.
Earlier, he’d disappeared without explanation, simply telling me that he wouldn’t be long.
I put down my chopping knife, abandoning the vegetables I’d been peeling, and looked at Dylan. Smiled. Basked in the pleasure of his proximity. His presence. And love. These days I felt like a champagne bottle. Permanently fizzy. Feeling like I could explode with joy.
‘I love surprises,’ I said, trying not to squeak with excitement. ‘Tell me what it is!’
‘No, silly, otherwise it won’t be a surprise. Close your eyes. That’s it. Let me take your hand. I’m going to lead you into the front room.’
That wouldn’t take long. Catkin Cottage was like a doll’s house. Small and exquisite.
‘No peeking,’ warned Dylan.
‘Spoilsport,’ I grumbled, shuttering down my eyelids.
I wondered what the surprise was. After all, there had been so many in the last two months. So much had happened.
My house sale had completed in record time. I’d now been living with Dylan at the cottage for just over a week. We were like two snug bugs in a rug. Catkin Cottage was perfect for the two of us. And Bess and Charlie hadn’t minded the change of address. Thanks to a postage stamp of a garden, they now had more frequent walks in the fields opposite – something young Charlie needed. He was a high-energy dog.
July and August had been hectic months. September promised to be calmer. My wedding diary was winding down. I’d also decided to take a bit of a sabbatical from work. After recent events, I felt like I needed to… well, just take a breath. Just be.
It transpired my father had indeed broken his hip. He’d had a full hip replacement. The hospital had discharged him three weeks later.
Meanwhile, my parents’ house had gone on the market. Freya and I had also had a frank talk with our father. We’d not exactly ganged up on him, but we’d been firm. Insisted he employ a carer. However, Mum had unexpectedly settled into Primrose House. Even more surprisingly, she didn’t want to leave. She couldn’t remember home, the house that she’d lived in for so many years. Instead, she referred to Primrose House as my place. It was at that point that my father had realised it was game over. He’d subsequently made the decision to move into Primrose House with Mum.
My children and their respective other halves had since met Dylan, Terry, and her husband Tobias. The newlyweds were blissfully happy. Terry had enjoyed showing off her little baby bump. Ruby and Ella had asked if they could touch Terry’s tummy. My girls’ faces had promptly turned gooier than a chocolate eclair. Archie and Josh had looked on with nervous smiles, not yet ready to walk that path.
Dylan and I had been delighted at how our kids had bonded. Ruby had particularly cosied up with Terry saying that Terry could be her substitute sister when Ella annoyed her. Ella had playfully punched Ruby’s arm and said, “Likewise!”
Tim had been very jovial with Terry too. He’d asked if he could take on the role of uncle when her baby was born. Ruby and Ella had promptly asked if they could be aunties. Terry had agreed, pink-cheeked with pleasure.
I’d desperately wanted to ask her if I could be Baby Bump’s grandma but had felt too nervous to ask. It was one thing to be considered an aunty or uncle, but quite another to assume a role that rightly belonged to the deceased Jennifer. However, the darling girl had instead asked me. I’d been so touched. So honoured. And so horribly, horribly emotional. I’d given Terry a fierce hug. We’d both shed a tear or two, laughing as our hands swiped our wet eyes.
As for Freya and me, well, it was amazing how much better the two of us were getting along. Now that our parents were in a care home, all stress had been removed.
In fact, I’d been quietly flabbergasted at how much better life was all round now that our parents were in safe hands and having all their needs taken care of.
I’d never resented looking after my parents, but I had often been left frustrated. With the best will in the world, I’d never had the time nor the resources to give them everything they’d needed. But now a rota of staff fulfilled that side of things. So, when I took them on an outing somewhere, it was a far more pleasurable experience. And I could look back on the memories we were making with appreciation rather than exasperation.
This shift also meant I currently had more time on my hands. I was no longer the chaperone at doctors’ appointments. Or the chauffeur taxiing the Golden Oldies to the dentist… the dementia clinic… the chiropodist… the supermarket. I no longer had to make time to do my parents’ housework, or washing and ironing. I had a huge swathe of my life back. I was no longer Maggie in the Middle. I was Maggie on the Move.
‘Okay,’ said Dylan, interrupting my thoughts. ‘You can now open your eyes.’
I blinked, allowing the dark dots behind my lids to turn into dancing light. September sunshine was pouring in through the window. It had turned everything gold. The heat of summer was over. Autumn was just around the corner. I blinked again, and my eyes widened.
‘Oh my goodness,’ I gasped, with both surprise and delight.
My hands flew to my mouth. For there, beyond the garden gate and parked on the lane, was a campervan. And – omigod – behind the windscreen I could see… yes, I could see balloons. Dylan had filled the interior with them by way of celebration.
‘Surprise!’ Dylan sang. ‘Do you like it, darling?’
‘I do,’ I whispered. ‘It’s amazing.’
‘Come on.’ He took my hand. ‘Let’s go and have a proper look.’
Together we stepped outside, walked along the flower-lined garden path, passed through its rickety gate and on to the lane.
‘Wow,’ I whispered.
I stared at the balloons crammed within the campervan’s cabin. How many had Dylan blown up and squashed into that space? One hundred? Two hundred?
They merrily bobbed about, a pastel assortment of prettiness. Orange. Lemon. Lime. Lilac. Baby pink. Light blue. Lots of different colours. But only one red balloon, I noticed. And then I froze. Paled. Stared at that… one… red… balloon. And then I heard his voice. As clear as a bell inside my head. Greg.
Yes, Mags. This is my sign.
‘Omigod,’ I said aloud.
Dylan put an arm around me. Held me tight as I tuned in to what only I could hear.
You wanted a red balloon, Mags, said Greg. But why limit yourself to one, when you can have many? And why just red when you can have the whole rainbow?
My eyes brimmed and the tears began to flow.
Thank you, Greg, I said silently. This means the world to me.
Live your life with Dylan. Be content, darling. Have your happy ever after.
I love you, Greg.
I know. And I love you too. Always have done. Always will.
‘Are you ready to begin our next adventure?’ asked Dylan, holding me tight.
I nodded, momentarily unable to speak.
‘Yes,’ I finally managed to whisper.
‘I love you, Maggie King,’ said Dylan.
So much love. How lucky was I? So blessed.
‘I love you too,’ I replied.
Dylan opened the passenger door. Punching balloons out the way, I hopped inside. An old atlas book was perched on the dash. I picked it up. Flicked through its pages. Looked at all the routes that led to everywhere. And I knew, just knew, that within these pages was the road to my brand-new future.
THE END