Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
‘What was really odd was how Paul didn’t even seem surprised. He just said something about needing to get back and put the kettle on. And she went with him like nothing had happened, saying things like “Mind that step” in a perfectly normal voice.’
‘Could she have the beginnings of dementia, maybe?’ Matt suggested.
They were standing at the new kitchen island with pre-supper G Elizabeth, who waitressed in the pub; and Helen and Ellie, who both worked in a nearby care home.
Liv, who was hosting, had provided wine and nibbles.
At least everyone swooned over Brother of the More Famous Jack.
Normally, Kate would have revelled in that – she felt a kind of vicarious pride when other people liked books she’d recommended.
It was such a personal thing, after all.
Matt was almost the opposite – if someone didn’t like a beer he’d suggested, or a pub, he’d just shrug, as if it was their taste that was probably defective, rather than his.
Afterwards, she stayed to help Liv clear up. As they stacked the dishwasher, she said casually, ‘No Rosemary tonight?’
Liv gave her a concerned glance. ‘I was going to ask you if she’s all right, actually. She’s usually the most reliable of all of us.’
‘I haven’t seen her for a few days.’ And then, both because she was curious and because, if Rosemary did say something, she wanted to establish a possible context for it, she said, ‘Liv . . . Have there ever been any signs of Rosemary having dementia?’
‘Dementia!’ Liv looked startled. ‘Not that I know of. She’s usually sharp as a pin.
’ She put her head on one side and thought.
‘Though she did turn up to a book club once that had been cancelled. And last month she mixed up Doris Lessing with Muriel Spark. But that’s normal, isn’t it? Particularly at her age.’
Kate agreed that it was. In any case, at least it seemed Rosemary hadn’t said anything to Liv about her and Matt being barbarians.
She was painting a bedroom the next day when she heard tyres on the gravel outside. Going to the window, she saw the Popemobile. Rosemary got out, then reached back in for something – a book, it looked like. A few moments later, there was a knock on Trade Cottage’s front door.
‘Oh, God,’ Kate said out loud. Turning off the radio, she went downstairs.
‘Hello, Rosemary,’ she said as she opened the door, in what she hoped was a neutral but not unfriendly voice.
Rosemary didn’t speak for a moment, and Kate braced herself for another diatribe.
Then Rosemary said helplessly, ‘Oh, Kate, I’m such a blithering idiot.
I don’t know why I got so cross – Jamie always used to say, if Trade Cottage was his, ripping out that stupid fireplace was the first thing he’d do.
And I know it was out of keeping – Paul’s parents were awfully grand, and they went on about there not being a drawing room, so in the end we agreed we’d posh it up a bit, just in that one room.
But the other day, something just snapped – I think I was just so, so jealous that you’d found that barrel and I never did, even though the difference in the room sizes had been literally staring me in the face.
And now I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?
Your lovely children are going to hate me, and your nice husband, and you probably think I’m a horrible wife as well as a horrible person.
’ She was crying now, ignoring the tears spilling on to her weathered cheeks.
‘Anyway, I’ve brought you a gift. When I heard you’d chosen it, I was so thrilled – it’s been my favourite book forever, literally yonks. This might even be a first edition.’
She held out Brother of the More Famous Jack. It was, Kate saw, the original hardback, the one with the pincushion cover.
‘It’s a signed copy,’ Rosemary added. ‘I went to a thing she did in Blackwells.’
As Kate took it, automatically opening it to look at the signature, Rosemary turned as if to leave.
‘Where are you going?’ Kate gasped, noticing. ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t go now.’
The other woman hesitated, long enough for Kate to step out and give her the most enormous hug.
They sat at the kitchen island, drinking tea. ‘You’ve made it so nice in here,’ Rosemary said, looking around appreciatively. ‘I love these lights.’
‘Not too fucking barbaric?’ Kate ventured.
Rosemary groaned. ‘Don’t. I am never, ever going to live that down, am I? Paul says I was absolutely monstrous.’
‘You were magnificent, actually. The captain would have been proud of you – chucking the marlinspike across the deck like that.’
For a moment, Rosemary looked wistful. ‘I don’t suppose your clever builder has come across my notes?’
Kate shook her head.
‘Anyway,’ Rosemary said, ‘from what I recall, you’re right – the captain was actually rather a bloodthirsty brute.
He once repelled an attack by cutting off a boarder’s head with a single blow from his sword.
And he was awarded the . . . the . . . Ach, it’s gone.
’ She was silent a moment. ‘That’s the thing about getting old.
When you’re young and you forget something, you just think, Never mind, it’ll come back to me.
But when you’re old, you’re always asking yourself if it’s the beginning of something more sinister. ’
‘Is that something that worries you?’ Kate asked. ‘That you might get dementia, I mean?’
Rosemary nodded. ‘To lose who you are like that . . . And, if I was in a home, who’d look after Paul? But none of us knows what’s coming down the line, do we?’
Impulsively, Kate reached out and squeezed her hand. ‘I think you’re amazing. And it must have been so hard, to watch a new family come in and make changes to your beautiful home. Really, you’ve been so good about it.’
‘Thank you. And you’re right, it hasn’t always been easy. But we’re so lucky. We couldn’t have hoped for better neighbours.’ Rosemary paused. ‘Incidentally, do you know what you’ll be doing at Christmas?’
‘Christmas?’ It was so far away, Kate hadn’t given it any thought. ‘Why?’
‘Jamie’s invited us to go to them, in Washington. We’re just not sure . . . We think the journey might be a bit much for Paul, now. So we’re going to say no.’
Kate wondered at the selfishness of a son who wasn’t prepared to fly his family over for what might well be, surely, one of the last Christmases they’d get with their grandfather. But it was none of her business to say so.
As if reading her mind, Rosemary added, ‘He came last year, so strictly speaking, it’s the other grandparents’ turn. And it’s not as if we’d all fit into The Old Tennis Court, anyway.’
‘Well, we’re here,’ Kate said, ‘and we don’t have any plans. We’d absolutely love to have you over on Christmas Day.’
Rosemary beamed. ‘That’s very kind.’
‘Not at all. The children will be delighted.’ She added, ‘By the way, Rosemary, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We’re thinking of doing up a couple of the outbuildings and putting them on Airbnb. I just wanted to check that you and Paul would be all right with that?’
‘Of course,’ Rosemary said. ‘Why wouldn’t we be? And that reminds me – I must chase Mary Snow about that pony.’
When they’d finished their tea, Kate walked Rosemary to her car. It was only as the other woman opened the driver’s door that she glanced at the pond and said, ‘Oh – one of your ducks is injured.’
Kate followed her gaze and gasped. One of the half-dozen ducks who usually lived on the little island was fluttering at the pond’s edge, helplessly thrashing around in circles.
‘Something’s had its wing,’ Rosemary added. ‘Fox, most likely.’
‘Should I take it to a vet?’ Kate said, aghast. She didn’t even know where the nearest vet’s surgery was.
‘Oh, God, no. They’ll charge you hundreds of pounds to bandage it up, and, even if it heals, it won’t survive long with a handicap like that. I’m afraid the only option is to put the poor thing out of its misery.’
Kate stared at her, suddenly terrified that Rosemary was going to drive off and leave her to do it. She’d never killed anything in her life.
‘D’you have a coat I can throw over it?’ Rosemary asked. ‘Or an old towel or something?’
‘Um – I’ll have a look.’ Flustered, she went into the house and located an old raincoat of Matt’s. But by the time she got back, Rosemary already had the duck in her hands.
‘Really, it’s just something you get used to.’ She moved her hands up to the duck’s neck. ‘Twist and pull – firmly, like you’re pulling a cork out of a champagne bottle. There.’ The duck’s head hung limply. Its legs thrashed briefly, as if it were trying to paddle away. Then it was still.
Rosemary turned it over. ‘One of the drakes. Poor old chap.’ Before Kate realised what she was doing, she’d tossed the carcass into the nearest skip. ‘It happens to them all, in the end.’