Chapter Twenty-Two
On the drive home, my sister telephoned.
‘How’s it going?’ Sally asked.
‘Oh, you know,’ I said eventually. ‘Still sorting things out. Peter’s clothes have now gone to a charity shop. Also, some rather lovely personal effects are being donated to my village’s fete this Saturday.’
‘That’s very generous of you.’
‘Somehow, I’ve found myself part of the Starlight Society – a group of locals on a mission to save our community hall.’
‘Amazing!’ said Sally approvingly. ‘So, you’re keeping busy. That’s good.’
‘Is it?’ I asked. My tone suggested otherwise. ‘I never thought that one day I’d man a bric-a-brac stall with several pensioners in a damp village hall.’
‘I hope there will be a cake table,’ Sally giggled. ‘You can’t have a village fete without one of those.’
‘I’m sure some of the silver ladies are baking up a storm as we speak. No doubt Doreen Bird will preside over a tea urn straight out of the post-war era. One of her cronies fancies herself as the next psychic sensation. Hetty Cartwright – aka Oracle Hetty – will be doing a spot of fortune telling.’
‘Sounds fun,’ Sally chortled. ‘Perhaps I should come along and support the cause.’
‘Really?’ I said. ‘Personally, I think there’s only so long you can wander around a hut praising homemade birthday cards, or going into raptures about someone’s damson jam – the fruit of which came from their garden.
Cilla – you met her at Peter’s wake – is the woman at the helm.
She’s organising everything. Actually, it promises to be a fete like no other.
That’s because she’s on a mission. Cilla wants the society to buy the hall and trump a builder who’s after it. ’
The thought of Liam Lancaster suddenly gave me some unexpected heart arrhythmia.
‘Do you think Cilla will succeed?’ asked Sally.
‘Only if she can persuade a mahoosive crowd from somewhere like Wembley Stadium to divert to Starlight Hall,’ I said bleakly. ‘If Cilla wants to bid, the society needs some serious cash in the bank. If you want to pop by, it would be lovely to see you, so long as you won’t be bored within minutes.’
‘I won’t be any more bored than if I stay at home. Alec has already told me he won’t be around until Saturday evening.’
‘Why?’
‘You know perfectly well that I’m a golf widow at weekends,’ Sally sighed. ‘Alec has promised to make amends with a romantic meal on Saturday night.’
‘That’s nice,’ I said, wistfulness creeping into my voice. Sally immediately picked up on it.
‘Why don’t you join us,’ she said warmly.
‘Thanks, but no. I wouldn’t dream of third wheeling.’
‘You wouldn’t be,’ she said quickly.
‘No,’ I said firmly. ‘It’s very kind of you, Sal, but there’s no need.’
‘But I worry about-’
‘If you’re going to say you worry about me being lonely, then please don’t.
’ I toggled the indicator and overtook a sedate car hogging the middle lane.
Why did some motorists do that? I couldn’t resist sneaking a sidelong glance at the driver.
As I thought. A senior citizen. The man surely had to be in his nineties.
He caught me looking and stuck up a gnarled third finger.
Well, really. ‘Charmless old fart,’ I said under my breath.
‘What?’ said Sally, startled.
‘Nothing,’ I muttered.
‘Have I offended you?’
‘No!’ I cried. ‘I was moaning about another driver.’
‘Oh, right. Anyway. As I was saying-’
‘And as I was saying’ – I interrupted – ‘I am not lonely. At least, not right now. I know the twins are away at university and that I’m currently rattling around the house, but there’s still loads of post-funeral things to oversee.
Also, I’m tinkering with the idea of moving.
After all, the house is way too big for me.
’ It was too big when I’d married Peter.
It had still been too big when the twins had come along.
I didn’t add that I also found the place somewhat creepy, or that it held memories I didn’t want to be reminded of.
Especially a particularly horrible one. ‘I’ll have a word with my neighbour, Tilly.
She works at Home and Hearth Estate Agents in nearby Meopham.
Her boss, Leslie, can give me a valuation. ’
‘That’s a brilliant idea, Jen.’ Sally gave a squeal of delight. ‘You can move closer to me.’
‘And live in your pockets?’ I tutted. ‘I don’t think so, Sal.’
‘You wouldn’t be,’ she protested. ‘You can keep me company while Alec strides around the golf course at weekends. It would be nice to have a conversation with someone who doesn’t rave about woods or birdies, or lament about their handicap.’
‘As someone who has never played golf, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Ha!’ Sally harrumphed. ‘Do you know what Alec once asked me?’
‘No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.’
‘He was prattling on about the joys of the fairway and how his mate Charlie kept doing barkies – apparently that means hitting the golf ball at trees but somehow still getting a good score – and then he asked me if I knew how golf had got its name. As if I even care,’ she sighed.
I suppressed a giggle. If nothing else, Alec was passionate about his hobby.
‘So how did it get its name?’ I prompted.
‘No idea. Possibly because all the other suitable four-letter words were taken,’ she sniggered. ‘I can tell from the background noise that you’re driving,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘Where have you been? Anywhere nice?’
‘Ah.’ For a one-syllable word, it hung heavily in the air.
‘Jen?’ Sally’s voice was suddenly anxious. ‘Is everything okay? What are you not telling me?’
‘Everything is fine,’ I said quickly. ‘Well, it is now. I-I’m on my way home after… after scattering Peter’s ashes.’
‘What?’ she squawked. ‘Please don’t tell me you did that alone.’
‘Of course I did,’ I said, feigning carelessness.
‘But Jen, that’s massive. You should have had someone with you. For emotional support, if nothing else.’ Such was Sally’s concern her voice had gone up an octave. ‘How are you feeling? Are you okay?’ she pressed.
‘I’m good,’ I assured. ‘It was something that had to be done, and I did it alone. Well, obviously I asked Joy and James if they wanted to be there but, well, what with their study commitments and whatnot…’
I trailed off, not really wanting to share my children’s point-blank refusal to accompany me.
‘Of course the twins couldn’t be there,’ said Sally staunchly.
But my sister wasn’t a fool. She knew there had been no love lost between Peter and the children.
‘They’re in the middle of studying for their degrees and desperate for their lives to resume normality,’ she reasoned.
‘It’s bad enough that they lost their dad, even worse to lose him in such shocking and sudden circumstances. ’
‘Quite,’ I said softly.
‘Where did you scatter his ashes?’ she asked curiously.
‘Over the South Downs.’
‘Oh!’ Sally immediately understood. ‘That’s where Peter asked you to marry him.’
‘That’s right. The location seemed fitting.’
‘Indeed,’ she said sadly.
‘It’s where I agreed to be his wife. It’s now where I said goodbye to him as my husband.’
‘Closure,’ she said.
I nodded my head. Not that Sally could see. Just as she couldn’t see the images in my head to which I’d never have closure.
Peter, his face almost purple with fury as he yelled directly into my face, his spittle flecking my lips. Peter again, but this time with his eyes wide open. His mouth emulating a perfect circle. Then, the magenta complexion paling. And gradually turning to a lifeless grey.