Chapter Thirty-Seven
In the short space of time Nina had known Venetia, she had grown immensely fond of the older woman and valued their friendship. Nina had particularly appreciated Venetia’s opinions and gentle offerings of advice, and above all, her positivity.
But to see her now so forlorn and dazed, as though quite literally overnight the stuffing had been knocked out of her, was unbearable to witness. The pain Venetia was experiencing was a palpable reminder for Nina of what she had gone through in the days after Hugh had died.
Selfishly, she didn’t want to feel that all over again because in the last few weeks, having convinced herself that she really was allowed to step out of the role of widow and take the first tentative steps of being in a relationship with Jakob, she had felt genuinely happy.
Yet here she was, with Cassie’s help, and before it was even fully light, digging a grave and feeling with each shovel of earth she dug up and tossed to one side that she was losing herself back down into that familiar dark hole of heartbroken despair.
Grief never left you, that was the truth of it.
Time didn’t heal, you merely learnt to live with the pain of loss.
Death, she thought grimly, was simply a way of life.
‘Do you think it’s deep enough now?’ asked Cassie.
‘No, not yet,’ said Nina, then lowering her voice so that Venetia wouldn’t hear, ‘we don’t want to risk an animal digging Bon-Bon up, do we?’
Cassie shuddered. ‘Good point. But it’s hard going with all these tree roots.’
‘I know, but we promised we’d make a proper job of it, and we will.’
‘It’s a shame Ben isn’t back yet from his trip,’ Cassie said, ‘we could have done with his extra muscle. If that doesn’t offend our feminist sensitivities.’
Nina stamped her booted foot down extra hard on the shoulder of her spade. ‘I’m all for girl power,’ she grimaced as the spade hit what sounded like a stone, ‘but common sense trumps every time in my book. If Jakob had been around, I might have roped him in to help.’
When Venetia had said she was going to bury Bon-Bon here in the woods at Hope Hall, Nina had volunteered to dig the hole for her. She had stayed with Venetia for most of last night, only returning to her own apartment when she was convinced that Venetia was all right.
‘You only have to call me, and I’ll come, it doesn’t matter what the time is,’ she’d said when preparing to leave.
‘That’s kind of you, but I’ll be fine,’ Venetia had said mechanically.
When Nina left the poor woman alone with the body of her precious dog wrapped in his favourite old blanket and placed in his basket, Nina’s heart had been heavy with sadness.
The sight of Venetia earlier lovingly drying Bon-Bon’s wet apricot fur with a towel was an image she didn’t think she would ever forget.
Back in her apartment and before getting ready for bed, she had texted Cassie to ask how things were going with her.
A bit shaky, Cassie had replied. V awkward between Emily and Rosalyn, but Finlay sleeping now.
Nina had then told Cassie that she had offered to bury Bon-Bon in the morning and Cassie had immediately said she’d help.
Nina had gone on to explain that they had to do it in secret, that Venetia didn’t want anyone else to know, especially not the Enforcers who would probably cite some rule that under no circumstances should the grounds of Hope Hall be used as an unauthorised burial place.
She had just got into bed when her mobile rang and expecting it to be Cassie with something she’d forgotten to say before, she was surprised, and pleased, to see that it was Jakob.
He was back in Oslo for a big family occasion, his grandfather’s ninetieth birthday, as well as sourcing paintings by Norwegian artists which might fit with the Lavelle brand.
He had invited Nina to go with him to meet his family, but she hadn’t been ready for that step.
He’d said he understood and that there was no hurry.
They had agreed to take things at Nina’s pace, which was slow. Very slow. And that meant they hadn’t gone public with their relationship.
‘I need to adjust to this new me before we invite others into our relationship,’ she’d explained to Jakob.
‘In my experience, no relationship is just about two people, there are families involved, friends too. All of whom will have an opinion to offer, good and bad. I don’t want to have to cope with that just yet. ’
‘Having met your husband’s family, I understand completely,’ he’d said astutely.
It felt odd hearing Jakob refer to Hugh in that way, but how else could he refer to Hugh? Your dead husband would sound too blunt and clinical. And your ex wasn’t accurate, because a dead husband wasn’t an ex, he was forever destined to be The Husband. First Husband if there was a second one.
Nina had told Jakob last night on the phone about the search party for the missing boy and the tragic discovery of Venetia’s little dog in the river.
Jakob had been a good listener and Nina had felt better for chatting with him.
He’d cheered her up by telling her a few stories about his grandparents whom he was clearly very fond of, and about some of the interesting paintings he’d found which he hoped she’d like.
He also said how much he missed her and was looking forward to seeing her when he returned.
She’d admitted that she missed him too. The words had slipped from her effortlessly and were entirely true.
She did miss him. She really did. She missed the fun he’d brought into her life.
Part of her wished that she had closed the gallery and gone with him to Oslo, but if she had, then Cassie would have had to do this gruesome task alone.
The two of them were still digging, the hole almost large enough now to contain the old champagne crate which Venetia had previously used for storing hats and was now to be Bon-Bon’s coffin.
Nina was thankful that last night’s storm had blown itself out, so at least they weren’t doing this awful task in the wind and rain.
‘When is Jakob coming back?’ asked Cassie, once again breaking into Nina’s thoughts.
‘Next week.’
‘And?’
‘And what?’
‘Is distance making the heart grow fonder?’
Cassie was the only person in whom Nina had partially confided about Jakob.
Cassie had been absurdly pleased at the news that Nina was allowing him into her life and Nina couldn’t help but be caught up in her infectious delight, thinking how easy it was to talk to a new friend, a friend who hadn’t ever known Hugh, than an old one who might view things differently.
‘Let’s talk about that another time,’ Nina said quietly, glancing over her shoulder to where Venetia was perched on the fallen tree, which according to Cassie was where she had always sat when she took Bon-Bon for his late-night walk.
It was why Venetia had chosen this spot to bury the dog.
The champagne crate with its precious cargo was on her lap, her hands holding it firmly as though she might never let go of it.
Her face bore an expression of pained bewilderment.
It was the face of grief and was an expression that Nina knew all too well.
‘Sorry,’ said Cassie, ‘not the time and place. I’m just talking for the sake of it. I need something to think about other than the catastrophe that Rosalyn’s presence here has caused. I wish I’d been firmer and said she couldn’t stay, then Bon-Bon would still be alive.’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ Nina said, ‘it wasn’t your fault. It really wasn’t.’
‘Why don’t you two take a break for a few minutes?’ Venetia called over to Nina and Cassie. ‘Or at least let me have a go at digging.’
Nina shook her head. ‘We’re okay to keep going, aren’t we, Cassie?’ she said.
‘Absolutely,’ Cassie replied. ‘Another ten minutes and we’ll have it done.’
In fact, they had it done in less time and Nina knew that they were now facing the most difficult part of what they had come here to do. Going over to Venetia, she said, ‘Are you ready, or do you want to wait a bit longer?’
Venetia held the box out for Nina to take from her so she could stand up. Once she was on her feet, she took the box back and went over to the hole. ‘It’s so much bigger than I imagined,’ she said faintly.
‘We thought the deeper the better,’ murmured Nina. She and Cassie were now standing either side of Venetia. ‘Would you like to do this part on your own?’ she asked.
Venetia nodded, her lips tightly compressed as though she couldn’t speak. Tears were pooling in her eyes and giving her the space she needed, Nina and Cassie went and sat on the fallen tree.
Her own eyes filling with tears, Nina could hardly bear to watch Venetia stoop and then get down on her knees to lower the wooden box, oh, so carefully, into the hole.
Next to Nina, Cassie sniffed then searched her coat pockets for a tissue.
Nina had come prepared, and she dug out a small packet of Kleenex from her own coat pocket and passed a tissue to Cassie.
Both dabbing their eyes and trying to blow their noses as discreetly as possible, Nina was drawn back to the day Hugh’s body had been cremated.
Hilary had wanted her son to be buried, for everything to be done ‘properly’ as she saw it, but Nina had insisted that Hugh’s wishes were respected.
He had made it clear from the day he was diagnosed with a brain tumour, and should he not survive it, exactly how he wanted his remains to be dealt with.
The service at the crematorium had been efficient and quick, perfunctory even.
Hilary had hated it and had told anyone who would listen that it was simply dreadful, and Hugh had deserved better.
A week later and they assembled again, a much smaller group this time, to carry out the final part of Hugh’s wishes, which was to hire a boat from Fen Ditton, and then scatter his ashes on the River Cam.
The whole thing had been rather beautiful, tranquil, and moving.
The company Nina had used had organised everything, a two-hour trip with a picnic hamper and what they referred to as a water ceremony set; it included a biodegradable water urn for the ashes and flower petals for each member of the party to throw onto the surface of the water.
The trip had been timed for when the sun slowly dropped from the sky and, as it set on the distant horizon, that was the exact moment Nina had cast the urn into the water.
She had been told it would float for a few minutes and her eyes never once left it until she’d watched it slowly disappear beneath the surface of the water.
For once Hilary could find no fault and went as far as saying that Hugh would have approved.
She was also grateful to Nina for allowing her to have some of Hugh’s ashes for her to keep.
Nina could have done the same, but she hadn’t wanted to do that; it felt too morbid.
Keith had shared with Nina that Hilary kept the vial of ashes on her bedside table, next to a photograph of Hugh when he’d been a boy, so that it was the last thing she looked at before turning out the light and the first thing she saw when she woke in the morning.
‘We should take over now,’ whispered Cassie.
‘You’re right,’ Nina said, seeing that Venetia had picked up one of the spades and was beginning to shovel the earth they’d dug out back into the hole.
They went over to her. ‘We’ll do that,’ Nina said gently, ‘you go and sit down and open the hamper you put together.’
Venetia handed over the spade to her and left them to it.
Together, Nina and Cassie made short work of filling in the hole, tamping the rich earth down with their booted feet, then adding a layer of leaves and twigs.
Afterwards, they joined Venetia where she’d opened a bottle of champagne, and they drank a toast to Bon-Bon.
‘To the darlingest of companions,’ Venetia said before dissolving into tears, with Nina and Cassie doing the same.