Chapter Forty-One
Hilary was exhausted. She was sick with tiredness at the whole futility of her life.
More than anything she wanted to get into bed, pull the duvet up over her head and sleep away the shame of what she’d done.
Or rather the shame of being caught for what she’d done.
Until today, she’d always got away with it.
She must have been careless on this occasion, made her move too clumsily.
She knew it was a compulsion she had, a desperate way to ease the pain of her loneliness. When the impulse made itself felt, there was nothing she could do to stop it. Compelled to act, she would drive into town and head straight to John Lewis or wherever else that sold baby clothes.
Today she’d made a beeline for the selection of prams and pushchairs in John Lewis, asking an assistant to let her try some out to see how they handled.
She’d made a little joke about sounding like she wanted to buy a new car and take it for a test drive.
She’d explained that she was researching prams because she’d promised to buy one as a present for her son and daughter-in-law.
The assistant had smiled brightly and remarked how lovely it was when grandparents-to-be did this, especially as prams were so expensive these days.
‘When is the baby due?’ the assistant had asked.
‘Quite soon,’ Hilary had replied proudly, enjoying playing the role. ‘It’s a boy. He’ll be the spitting image of his father; I just know it.’
This was the best part, being able to talk about Hugh and describe how much he was looking forward to being a father and how excited she was to be a grandmother.
In those precious moments it felt so very real, as though Hugh was still alive with the rest of his life ahead of him.
In those moments, the pain of her grief was gone, and she was happy.
Just like she used to be. Before her world had ended.
When she’d thanked the assistant for her help, she had wandered off to complete the real reason she was here. She could hardly walk out of the shop with a pram, not when it would set off any number of alarms, but an item of clothing would be easy and safe.
She’d had a difficult time deciding what to take, there were so many lovely things and the temptation to help herself to more than one item was overwhelming – because why not, why not have double the pleasure?
– but she had resisted. The item she’d slipped into her bag had been a blue-and-white-striped Petit Bateau body suit.
Practically identical to the ones Hugh had worn as a baby, it had brought back so many wonderful memories of him as an infant, fresh out of the bath and smelling as sweet as a summer peach.
The surge of emotions she’d then experienced as she prepared to leave the shop fizzed through her and gave her the sensation of walking on air.
It was a delicious feeling and added to the prospect of imagining how, when she was home, she would hold the bodysuit to her face, rub the soft fabric against her cheek while breathing in the newness of it and imagine being a mother all over again and cradling Hugh.
She’d been so lost in the fantasy that initially she hadn’t realised the man was addressing her.
He’d appeared out of nowhere and her first thought was that he reminded her of a Jack-in-the-box toy Hugh had loved as a toddler.
Oh, how he’d laughed when the lid had sprung open, and the clown had jumped out on its bendy spring.
He did that every time, laughed like a gurgling drain whenever she tapped on the lid and made the clown appear.
But with her stomach lurching in alarm, she’d realised that the man who had sprung out on her wasn’t going to make her laugh.
Instead, she’d known in an instant what his job was, it was to catch shoplifters, like those awful hooligans she’d read about in the Daily Mail who stormed into shops and stripped the shelves bare.
She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t some common thief.
She hadn’t stolen anything, not really. She’d only borrowed what she’d taken.
She’d always planned one day to give everything back.
Or maybe donate the clothes to a charity.
That would make everything right, wouldn’t it?
When the security guard had asked to see inside her bag she’d tried telling him that she’d simply got into a muddle and forgotten to pay for the Babygro.
She’d told him that she would go straight back upstairs to the baby department and put things right.
He’d surely believe a respectable woman like her?
But at the serious expression on his face, she didn’t think she was going to get away with that and the shock of what might happen next, that the police would be called, filled her with horror and her legs began to tremble and then shake so much she thought she was going to fall to the ground.
The man had reached out to her and held her arm firmly, which only increased her fear that he was going to march her off to a back room where she would be duly arrested.
Picturing the mortifying scene, she’d thought of her darling Hugh and what he would think of her.
That she had come to this. She’d begun to cry and once she’d started, she couldn’t stop.
People were staring at her now and that made her cry all the more and she just wanted to curl up on the floor and die.
That was when the security guard had taken her away to meet her fate.
But the police weren’t sent for. A woman with a kind face sat her in a chair and handed her a box of tissues, and when Hilary had calmed down enough to speak, she’d apologised for what she referred to as her confusion.
She’d blamed it on the death of her son, saying that she hadn’t been coping well and she was sorry for the trouble she’d caused.
She’d promised it was the first time she’d ever done anything like this, and it would never happen again; she couldn’t be more ashamed.
The woman must have taken pity on her. ‘I can see how upset you are,’ she’d said, ‘and I don’t know how you came into town today, but if you drove in, I wouldn’t advise you drive yourself home right now. Is there someone I can telephone to come here for you? Your husband perhaps?’
Hilary had shaken her head at that. ‘There’s no one,’ she’d murmured.
Hearing herself say this had brought on a fresh wave of tears and self-pity.
How had she reached such a pathetic state that she was so entirely abandoned with no one to turn to?
Her husband had left her; her friends no longer wanted to spend time with her, she couldn’t blame them, not when she didn’t really want to spend time with them, and even her family had distanced themselves after the way she’d behaved at Fabian’s wedding.
Her sisters had lost patience with her, particularly Lindsay who had been the most hurtful, describing her as unhinged and in need of professional help.
But then, as if to prove she wasn’t so pathetic, she’d blurted out that she had a daughter-in-law who ran an art gallery in town.
She had immediately wanted to snatch the words back, horrified by the admission.
How could she bear for Nina to know what she’d done?
But at the same time, the thought of Nina and her steady calmness and her clear-eyed way of looking at things acted as a soothing balm.
Nina never overreacted to any situation, she always seemed to be above any unnecessary display of emotion.
In the past, Hilary had viewed her as being too cool and detached to be worthy of her precious son’s love.
But in that moment she would have given anything for Nina – capable Nina – to take control of this nightmarish situation in her discreetly understated way and make it all go away.
The woman sitting the other side of the desk had eagerly seized on this piece of information about a daughter-in-law within walking distance of the store and whether it was to be rid of the problem, or maybe believing that a family member could ensure nothing like this happened again, but within minutes Hilary was being escorted by the security guard to St Anne’s Court.
They’d almost reached their destination when Hilary lost her nerve.
She didn’t want Nina to see her like this.
To know what she’d done. To know the worst of her.
She’d come to a standstill in the rain and contemplated turning on her heel and running away. Perhaps sensing this, the security guard had smiled at her. ‘Come on, love, let’s not hang about and get any wetter than we already are.’
At some stage she’d lost her umbrella; maybe it had dropped out of her bag when she was looking at the prams. Which felt a lifetime ago. If only she could turn back the clock.
She thought the same thing now as she sat on the edge of her bed, that if only she hadn’t gone out today. If only she hadn’t succumbed to that powerful impulse to feel connected to Hugh and the grandchild she would never have.
She looked around her bedroom, seeing it through fresh eyes – through Nina’s eyes.
The room was a mess; clothes were strewn about the place, mostly unwashed clothes that she couldn’t be bothered to deal with.
What was the point? She didn’t see anyone these days.
There was no reason to dress up. No reason to do anything really.
From downstairs she heard Nina moving about in the kitchen; doubtless she would be shocked at the state of it. Not so long ago, Hilary would have been appalled at anyone seeing her house in anything other than pristine order, but after today what did any of that matter?
With a colossal effort she stood up and went downstairs.
‘Ah, there you are,’ said Nina. ‘But you haven’t changed out of your wet clothes.’
‘No need,’ Hilary said tiredly. ‘They’re almost dry now.’
‘Fair enough. I’ve made some tea and the fire’s going nicely in the sitting room, let’s go in there, shall we?’
‘And then you can cross-examine me, is that what comes next?’ Her voice was flat, drained of emotion. She was all out of emotion now.
‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that,’ said Nina, ‘but I think you should tell me what’s been going on here since I last saw you.’
Hilary waited until they were seated, she on one sofa and Nina on the opposite one the other side of the coffee table.
It felt like there was a yawning chasm between the two of them, as though they inhabited completely different worlds and in a way they did.
Nina had moved on, she had dealt with her grief, just as Keith had; they were both forging ahead with their new lives, whereas she was left behind sinking ever deeper into the quicksand of her grief.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Hilary said after Nina had passed her a mug of tea, ‘that I’ve let things go.’
‘Well, it had crossed my mind that for a woman normally as houseproud as you, things aren’t quite as orderly as usual.’
‘It’s okay, you can be as blunt as you like. The house is a tip.’
‘Isn’t your cleaner coming in anymore?’
‘No. We fell out. I snapped at her one day and she didn’t come back. It was entirely my fault. I was quite rude to her.’
‘We could find a replacement, if you’d like.’
‘We?’ Hilary repeated.
Nina smiled. ‘I’d like to help if I can. I feel guilty that I haven’t been in touch since September.’
‘You have your life to live.’
‘So do you.’
‘I’m not sure it’s worth living any longer,’ Hilary said dully. She looked up from the mug of tea in her hands. ‘I suppose you’re shocked by my saying that.’
‘No. Because I know exactly how that feels. I experienced the same thing in the months after Hugh died.’
‘But you don’t now. That’s the difference between us. And Keith. You’ve both found a way to accept that Hugh’s gone, but I haven’t, and I doubt I ever will.’
‘Has Keith been in touch recently?’ asked Nina following a lengthy pause.
Hilary shifted her gaze from Nina to the fire and the flames licking around the logs. ‘He’s left a few messages on the answer-phone,’ she said, ‘but I haven’t listened to any of them. He wrote to me as well, but I didn’t read the letter, I threw it on the fire.’
‘You should talk to Keith,’ Nina said. ‘There are obviously important matters which the two of you need to discuss.’
‘I’m not ready to do that. And I’m aware that I’m sticking my head in the sand.’
‘Maybe in his own way he’s doing something similar and not tackling what needs to be tackled.’
‘That’s his business.’
After another silence between then, Nina said, ‘Do you feel up to talking about what you did today?’
This brought forth a shuddery sigh from Hilary and after fortifying herself with several sips of tea, she embarked on her confession. Perversely she wanted to see if she could shock Nina out of her cool self-possession.
But it seemed that Nina was unshockable, she barely blinked as she listened.
‘So where have you been storing all the baby clothes?’ she asked when Hilary fell silent and the only sound in the room was the pop and crackle of the fire.
‘They’re in Hugh’s old bedroom,’ she answered. ‘In the ottoman at the foot of the bed.’
‘And having them brings you comfort?’ Nina enquired.
‘Yes. Which probably confirms in your mind that I’m deranged.’
‘No, it confirms that you’re desperately unhappy and something needs to be done to help you. Why don’t you come and stay with me for a few days? A change of scene might be good for you.’
‘No,’ said Hilary, disconcerted at the suggestion. Was Nina worried that she might go out on another shoplifting spree? Or did she think Hilary was a risk to herself if left to her own devices for too long?