Chapter 26
ELIZA
Eliza pulled up outside her bungalow. Focus, she thought.
Ignore the fact that this builder reminds you of Howard in a way no one else has in all this time.
It had been a revelation, during the months and years after he died, to find out that not all men were controlling.
Howard had been more the exception than the rule.
Not that she’d dated since he’d gone. The love of her life was flowers.
She turned off the engine and reached into her bag to retrieve her compact with a floral design, and a lipstick called ‘Rose Red’.
She applied a scarlet slash to her lips that matched her blouse.
Around her neck was a silk white scarf that she’d found in Carrie’s wardrobe.
Perhaps she’d used it to tie her hair. Eliza dropped the make-up back in and a notification flashed up on her phone – an email from Carrie!
She’d read it later. Eliza got out of her car.
She went up to a couple of neighbours’ doors first, already hot; it was going to be a warm day. No, the builder hadn’t started before seven-thirty in the morning this last week, they reassured her.
Oh. That was a surprise.
Nevertheless, Eliza braced herself as she marched up her own drive, hammering coming from the back.
She clutched the inventory of damage drawn up last time.
At least no more of her shrubs had been trampled.
Eliza flexed her hands and went around the back – except the builder was no longer working near her property.
Squinting in the morning sunshine, she called over the fence, to where his ladders were propped up against her neighbour’s conservatory.
‘Hello!’
Nothing.
She clapped her hands.
The builder turned around and wiped his forehead. He climbed down, went over to the nearby wooden table and took a swig of water, before slowly trudging over.
‘Mrs Woods,’ he said.
‘Ms,’ she corrected.
He bit his lip.
She’d never talked openly about Howard all these years, but doing so recently with her new young friends, and Jez…
wow, it had felt like such a relief, as if keeping quiet about her past had caused a taut vacuum inside her chest, filling her with a permanent, underlying tension.
Taking on Carrie’s life had shifted the conversation about the abuse she’d suffered from an inner, dark, secretive place to the outside; from a monologue to a dialogue with people willing to understand; from a place of shame to a place of empowerment.
Buying another life had changed things in a most unexpected way.
‘That Ms means everything to me,’ she said. ‘The bully I mentioned to you last time was… my late husband. He made my life hell, he ruined it – until I finally stood up to him.’ She held eye contact.
The builder didn’t speak and then exhaled. ‘What you said last week – I’m sorry you were actually married to that person. You using the word “bully” about me… it was a shock, to be honest.’ His shoulders drooped.
Wow.
Was this for real? After all the weeks of him being so rude and impatient?
Eliza had dared to call Howard out as a bully once.
When Mel was little, he hadn’t liked his daughter’s noisy friends coming around.
He’d forced Eliza into saying no and she finally tired of being seen as the bad guy by Mel.
Howard hadn’t liked being called a bully.
Anger had ripped through him and he’d pushed his Queenie around, saying she had mental problems and that there was nothing wrong with him.
‘My stepdad was generous with his fists,’ the builder muttered, shuffling from foot to foot and staring at the ground.
‘Wish I’d said something before he died.
’ He raised his head. ‘It’s been hard, over the years, to see traits of him in me.
Don’t get me wrong…’ His face flushed. ‘I’d never use my fists on anyone, let alone a woman.
But the business is going down the pan and I…
I’ve been stressed, cut corners and, I’m ashamed to say, lost my cool, more than once, with staff and customers. I… I’m sorry for being an arse.’
Oh… he’d recognised that his behaviour had been inappropriate.
Howard had never done that. There’d be rounds of promises that things would improve between them, implying that both of them were at fault, but his better behaviour never lasted more than a couple of days.
If only she could go back in time, as the woman she was now, and ask him what was at the root of his attitude.
Howard had only spoken once about his parents.
They’d left him with an aunt and gone travelling when he was little, then came back to put him in boarding school.
His eyes had bulged whilst talking, in that way they did when he was angry.
Boarding schools back then… a little boy without his mum and dad…
Still, there were many kids in that type of education who grew into rounded, kind people.
Yet, despite everything, now and then she felt sorry for Howard.
It was probably why she hadn’t left him before 2001.
Occasionally the person he could have been appeared.
The first time they’d slept together, on their wedding night, he’d been gentle and considerate, making sure everything happened at her own pace.
‘I own a florist’s,’ she said, ‘and nearly lost everything during Covid. Can’t have been easy for you either.
’ She noted the heavy bags under his eyes.
Once, during the pandemic, she’d shouted at her staff during a Teams meeting.
She’d pitched an idea about doing a flyer drop and building an online delivery service that, ironically, had blossomed since the lockdowns had ended.
However, the initial reaction of staff had been hesitant…
How could they compete with the national companies?
It might be a lot of expense and work for nothing.
After ending the call and remorse setting in, she’d wasted no time in messaging the team, apologising wholeheartedly, saying they made valid points and suggesting a brainstorming meeting in the local park where they’d sit two metres apart and, to keep within the safety guidelines, Eliza would pay for them to bring their own cakes and drinks.
She also signed up for an online stress management course.
‘Yep. I’ve faced a continual rising cost of materials,’ he said.
‘I fit in as many jobs as possible; it’s all I can do.
But this last week I realised that I need to slow down.
Mistakes are being made.’ He wiped his brow.
‘Look… you should move back in. There’ll be no more early starts and I shouldn’t have to go near your property again.
If I do, I’ll discuss it with you first.’
Move back?
Right.
Or rather, wrong. She still had work to do in helping her granddaughter, and Eliza’s gut told her that staying in Reddish was the best place to do that from.
‘I won’t move back full-time yet but I’ll be popping in and out. In fact, I’d better go in and sort through the post… Um… fancy a cup of tea? I’ll bring one out to you.’
His face relaxed. ‘Thanks, Ms Woods. I could murder a brew.’
Eliza went inside, feeling hopeful.
Maybe now really was her time to finally get to know her granddaughter; her time to actually be a grandmother – a dream she’d rarely dared to entertain since Mel moved out.
If only she’d tried to contact her more over the years…
but Eliza had thought she was doing the right thing, honouring Mel’s desire for distance.
But now, maybe she had a chance to put things right, a little bit.
The vibe was so amiable when she and Carrie emailed and Eliza was getting on well with her young friends, Carrie’s boss as well, and everyone at The Niterie.
Eliza had fitted into her granddaughter’s life, no problem – surely that had to mean something?
Not even stopping to put the kettle on, or read Carrie’s latest email, Eliza picked up her phone, tapped into Spotify and strutted into the lounge. She put on ‘Butter’ by BTS, closed her eyes and, smiling so broadly it hurt, danced across the carpet.