Chapter 21 #2
‘I don’t think they would either,’ said Margot. ‘But putting it was just another reminder that I have left, that I’ve no idea what stance Perry will take in all of this, and that he could make things very difficult and unpleasant. He’s out there somewhere, thinking about his next step.’
‘Try not to worry too much,’ Bonnie urged.
The man hadn’t been violent, that was a relief, but the mind games sounded torturous.
She tried to lighten the mood. ‘Now, with Faye staying on in Dorset and you having applied for a job, I think that calls for an extra big slice of syrup sponge each, to celebrate.’
‘I’m in!’ said Margot with agreement from Faye.
Bonnie served each of them a generous piece of the sponge and between them they almost demolished two-thirds of the entire pudding.
‘I can barely move,’ Faye groaned afterwards. ‘That was too much.’
Margot told her, ‘Bonnie, that was possibly the best syrup sponge I have ever tasted. Howard was right.’
Faye picked up a stray crumb of sponge from her placemat and left it in her bowl. ‘Have you given any more thought to un-retiring, Bonnie?’
‘Un-retiring.’ She turned the phrase over in her mind. ‘I still think I’m too old.’
‘You’re sixty-six!’ Margot pointed out.
How could she even begin to think about returning to her job as a district nurse? She could get out to do a food shop or nip to the bakery, but that was about it. How could she go from doing that to visiting people’s homes and actually being some kind of help?
In an effort to steer them onto new ground, she took them through to the back room where it would be warmer and more comfortable.
Faye had stopped beside the bookshelves in front of the place where the urn acted as a bookend. If she’d ever noticed it before today, she’d not mentioned it.
‘I haven’t scattered them yet,’ said Bonnie, glancing first at Faye and then Margot, who seemed to have cottoned on to what she was talking about, and came to Bonnie’s side. She felt a hand on her arm when she confessed, ‘I just don’t feel ready.’
‘No rush, Bonnie,’ said Margot. ‘You do it when the time is right.’
Her next words were out before she had a chance to really think about them. ‘I’m considering selling the bookshop.’
Margot acted surprised, so did Faye, but Bonnie wasn’t born yesterday. ‘You both knew, didn’t you?’
‘Iris mentioned it,’ said Margot.
‘Do you think I’m a terrible person?’
Faye came straight to her side. ‘Bonnie, no, of course not.’
‘But Howard saved the shop from being closed down permanently. If it wasn’t for him, then it wouldn’t even exist any more.’
‘He told us all about the developers,’ said Faye.
‘He did?’
Margot nodded. ‘He used to talk about it in book club. He said they turned up frequently, upping their offer.’
They had. It hadn’t worried Howard; he said they’d get the message in the end. But now Bonnie had their contact details. It was an easy way of moving on. All she’d have to do is make the call.
‘The offer is considerably more than we paid for it,’ said Bonnie.
‘And what would you do with all the money?’ Margot asked.
Shocked at the question, Bonnie realised she had no idea. ‘I just don’t want to have to deal with it. You know, along with everything else.’
‘You could always just wait and see,’ Faye suggested. ‘You might change your mind about the place. You might want to keep it.’
Bonnie almost agreed that that could happen, but who was she kidding? She was about as likely to keep a bookshop on as Howard would’ve been to keep on an artists’ studio.
‘I’ll make a decision eventually,’ she told them, hopefully putting an end to the subject for now. It was her fault. She shouldn’t have blurted it out. In fact, she wasn’t sure why she had.
These women were so kind they didn’t push her to talk any more and they were soon onto talking about something else.
Faye asked about some of the books she’d noticed on the bottom shelves. ‘Howard has collected some beautiful old paperbacks here, Bonnie.’ She’d found a few Hans Christian Andersen books, Howard’s since he was a boy.
Bonnie urged Faye and Margot to go ahead and flip through ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes’, ‘The Snow Queen’, an illustrated collection of twelve fairy tales. They moved on to C.S. Lewis and The Chronicles of Narnia, a collection, as well as some of the books as individual paperbacks.
‘One of our foster children, Victor, loved those books,’ Bonnie told them.
‘You and Howard fostered?’ Faye asked, still holding open one of the books. ‘Howard never mentioned it.’
‘He was very humble about it; that’s why.’ He had done so much for others. Even by bringing these two to her door, her husband was still looking out for her, although he wouldn’t have planned any of this.
‘We fostered for a while. Victor was the last child we took in. We both got quite attached, especially Howard, and then he went back to his mother. I suppose the mother didn’t want to remember the rocky past and never kept in touch with us.’
‘That’s a shame.’ Margot slotted back the book she was holding. ‘I can imagine you both were really good foster parents.’
Bonnie smiled at the compliment.
Margot moved towards the easel facing away from the room. ‘May I?’ she asked before she went around to take a look.
‘Of course.’ Bonnie had been sitting in front of the easel day after day and it was yesterday when she finally managed to start working on her painting again.
Midas had been with her – apparently Faye had so much cleaning she’d be at it all day; Iris had a crazy day at the bookshop, because it was only her there; and Theo was teaching so she stepped in to be the dog-sitter, which she didn’t mind at all.
With Midas sitting beside her, at one point resting his chin on her knee while she worked, she’d finally felt the energy and drive to paint, return.
She’d made a start on the sky and the street using colours she’d mixed into the desired shades.
She was yet to add the details of the pavements with their uneven squares, the cracks, the kerb and the weeds sprouting up between slabs every now and then, or the people on the street to make the scene really come alive.
‘It’s brilliant,’ Margot declared, all three of them standing in front of the easel to see what she’d been working on.
Bonnie’s laughter filled the room. ‘You don’t have to lie. It’s not brilliant but it’s a start.’
Faye nudged Bonnie. ‘And that’s what brilliant.’
Faye was right Bonnie realised. To have started was a major milestone in itself. She tried not to let her voice catch when she said, ‘There’s still a way to go but…’
‘You’ll get there,’ Margot finished for her.
And for the first time she started to believe that yes, perhaps she would.