Chapter Thirty-Four
WHEN CATH WOKE, THE SUN WAS already pouring into the room.
This glorious weather taunted her. Perhaps it was growing up in the North East with the wild grey sea and the sleet and the wind, but she’d always dreamed of hot places.
As students, she and Paul had headed for Greece when they had any cash at all.
They’d travel by bus and stay in small tavernas, surrounded by olive groves, and swim in warm water.
For weeks, she’d been looking forward to getting away from a sweltering London, to sit by their pool at Tide House, relaxing.
Her only anxiety had been that the weather would break.
She had thought that nothing worse than that could happen to them, not after all this time and any scandal and rumour had faded.
But now Hannah was dead, and their world was upended, and this was worse than anything she could have imagined.
Of course, Paul was awake and up, dressed in his gym clothes, on the phone.
She wasn’t sure if he’d already been for a workout or if he was planning to go soon.
He must have sensed her moving because he turned and blew her a kiss, apologetic and tender.
Immediately afterwards, he walked onto the balcony and continued talking.
Scraps of conversation floated into her.
‘Yes, I’ll definitely be in the office on Monday afternoon … Thanks, but we’re hoping to travel back soon. Either later on Sunday or first thing on Monday.’
So, she thought, it was all arranged. They were heading back to London. The boys would be pleased to be home. She supposed it was for the best. All the same, she felt that she was betraying her daughter. Leaving her behind.
She sat up in bed and pulled her laptop onto her knee.
She didn’t have the contact details for the Brennans on her phone.
They’d met a few times when she’d gone to the farm shop for meat, but there wasn’t any kind of friendship between them.
She’d never been sure if Hannah’s relationship with Jake would last, if it was more than a holiday fling.
Neither she nor Paul had taken it seriously. Perhaps they should have done.
She googled Millscombe Farm and clicked onto their website to find their contact details, groped for the mobile by her bed, and dialled the number before she had time to change her mind.
‘Hello!’ A woman’s voice. A familiar accent that gave her a jolt. ‘Tessa Brennan. How can I help you?’
‘This is Cath Armstrong.’
‘Oh Cath, my dear. How are you getting on?’ The voice was familiar and reassuring after the first shock. ‘I’m sorry. That’s a stupid question. What can we do to help?’
‘I wondered if I could come and see you,’ Cath said. ‘Not for any real reason. But we still can’t get into Tide House, and I suppose I wanted to see where Hannah was happy. Perhaps meet Jake again. Before we head home this weekend.’
‘Oh, of course, my love. You’d be very welcome.’
‘Would it be okay if I brought Alex, my eldest son?’ A pause.
‘We’re not sure we’ll be able to face Tide House again, even when we’re allowed in.
’ She hadn’t discussed this with Paul, but she would put her foot down.
How could they keep the house now? It had been a very special place, full of laughter, but all those memories had been spoiled, shredded. ‘We’ll probably put it on the market.’
‘We’d love to see you all. Why don’t you come for lunch?’
‘It’ll just be Alex and me.’ Cath wasn’t sure Paul would understand why she needed to visit the farm. He’d always been able to compartmentalize. He was back in work mode now. ‘Gilbert’s too little. He probably wouldn’t understand. I’ll leave him at home with my husband.’
Gilbert was independent and not at all needy. He’d not make any demands on Paul.
‘But I’d like Alex to see where Hannah spent her last days.’
‘We’ll look forward to seeing you. We’ll be here all day. Come whenever you like.’
Cath looked up from her mobile. Paul had finished his call and was looking at her. She wondered how much he’d heard. Perhaps she should have discussed selling Tide House with him before starting a rumour which would probably spread around the neighbourhood and become a certainty.
‘What was that about?’ His voice was kind now. He sat beside her on the bed and put his arm around her shoulder.
‘I’m going to take Alex to Millscombe Farm at lunchtime. I want to see Jake and his parents. They made Hannah very happy. It feels like a sort of connection …’
‘Of course,’ he said, as if he did understand.
‘Would you like to come?’
Paul shook his head immediately. ‘Gil and I will go back to the beach, have a disgusting burger and an enormous ice cream. The last day of treats before heading back to town.’ He laughed.
Gilbert with his energy and fearlessness had always been Paul’s favourite son, though he’d never have admitted it.
‘Sounds brilliant,’ she said. ‘You’ll be making good memories too.’
There was a huge trail of traffic snaking its way down the hill into Torr.
A sunny Saturday and the tourists were on the move.
Cath was driving in the opposite direction, but still it took longer than she’d expected to arrive at the junction to the single-track road for Millscombe.
Alex was quiet all the way – he’d always been the dreamy one – until he recognized the pub and the track towards Tide House.
‘Why can’t we go there, Mummy? Why can’t we go home?’ A strange cry of longing, for things to be back as they were.
‘The police are still working there, pet. We’re going to see Hannah’s friend Jake. He lives on the farm. Perhaps he’ll show us round.’
He didn’t answer. She could tell that a trip to the farm couldn’t compensate in any way for the familiarity of the house.
His room. His stuff. She wondered now if she’d been wrong to believe that they should sell the place.
Perhaps this whole visit was a mistake. Now, though, she was bouncing up the farm track, and it was too late to turn back, to make some excuse to the Brennans.
Tessa and Bob were waiting for them. They’d been watching for their arrival and came out to the yard to greet them.
They were a little nervous, not sure what to say.
Cath didn’t blame them. She’d always struggled to find the right tone around grief and bereavement.
How much worse if the dead relative were the victim of violence.
In the end, she took the lead in the conversation. ‘Thanks so much for allowing us to come.’
‘Oh, my love, it’s a pleasure.’ Tessa Brennan was wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt, an incongruous flowery apron over the top. Clogs on her feet.
If Hannah and Jake had hooked up, we’d be relatives of a kind. The boys would get to know this place, have a real experience of country living.
Cath felt the lack of that future as another personal loss. She found herself close to tears.
‘We thought Alex might like a barbecue.’ Tessa seemed to sense Cath’s emotion. ‘We’ve even found some marshmallows to toast. Not really the weather for it, but …’ Her voice tailed off as awkwardness took over again.
What a lovely woman she is, Cath thought. We could have been in-laws, good friends.
‘Jake is organizing it for us. I hope you’re hungry, Alex. We’re using one of the glamping pods. You can paddle in the river there, if you like. And there’s a hammock, and Jake’s hung a swing from one of the trees. It’s cooler, shadier at that end of the farm.’
‘That sounds amazing,’ Cath said. And really it did sound idyllic. Again, she thought that a brilliant future of countryside adventures for the boys had been ripped away from her. Even Alex seemed a little excited.
They walked across the meadow towards the line of eccentric buildings. Cath felt the need to break the silence with polite conversation.
You’re still playing the politician’s wife. Even now.
‘This must be where you held the music festival?’
Bob answered, with enthusiasm, relaxing for the first time. He talked about the bands, the response of the audience. Cath started to zone out. She’d done a lot of that as an MP’s wife too.
‘We’re thinking of making it a regular event,’ he said.
‘If that wouldn’t be insensitive,’ Tessa broke in quickly. ‘Obviously we wouldn’t do it on the same weekend.’
‘Not insensitive at all!’ Because, Cath thought, what else could she say? These people had to make a living.
They’d arrived at the line of glamping pods, the trees behind them, glimpses of sunlight on the river breaking through the shadow.
It was an old-fashioned barbecue with charcoal, and wood and wisps of smoke.
A grill placed on breeze blocks. At Tide House they had a fancy affair with propane gas, but this felt more fitting for the setting.
Alex seemed entranced. ‘It’s like Bilbo Baggins’ house!’ She’d been reading him The Hobbit as a bedtime story.
Jake looked up from the fire. ‘That was what we hoped for.’ He smiled.
‘I’m Jake. I was a friend of your sister’s.
’ He seemed a bit wobbly, but he just about held it together.
It seemed to Cath that this was harder for him, even than for her.
If she was mourning a future that was no longer possible, how much worse must it be for him?
Alex looked directly at Jake. ‘Hannah told me she might marry you one day.’ Before he could see the effect of his words, the boy continued: ‘Is it okay if I go on the swing?’
The swing was a tyre, tied to a branch by a long piece of strong baler twine.
He’d be able to push himself out, right over the river.
Just in time, Cath stopped herself from telling him to be careful.
She couldn’t spend the rest of his childhood passing on her anxiety, the strange superstition that something dreadful would happen to him too.
‘Of course,’ she said.
None of them referred to Alex’s comment about marriage. Jake had turned away for a moment. She thought that he might be crying.