Chapter 5
‘It was never going to be easy, Gemma.’
Gemma eyed Cat from across the room, the space between them filled with boxes.
She knew leaving this house was never going to be easy, but today it felt impossible.
She could hardly bring herself to step outside the front door for fear the building would vanish, taking all of her memories with it and locking them away where she would never find them.
Her mum existed inside this house, and outside of it, she didn’t – it was as simple as that.
Wherever Gemma had gone in the past, and whatever she’d done, she had come home to this house every night, comforted by the knowledge that she could do so, knowing that she could keep her mum close for just that little bit longer.
Now, her time had run out. Someone else would be making this their home.
‘I’m not sure I can do this,’ she said, her eyes filling with tears.
And for the third time in as many days, Cat wrapped her arms around Gemma and told her that she was brave.
And that she would get through this, just as she had everything else.
That it would hurt, at times so much it was almost unbearable, but that one day it wouldn’t hurt quite so much and Gemma might begin to think about doing all the things she had promised herself.
She would start living the rest of her life, start finding the joy in things again.
Start laughing, start loving, and none of it would ever, ever mean she had loved her mum any less.
‘And you’re sure I’m not being stupid?’ she asked, her head still buried in Cat’s shoulder.
Cat pushed her gently away so that she could look at her properly.
‘I’m only going to say this once,’ she said.
‘You can change your mind any time and come and live with me for a while. But I’m also going to say that as much as I might want you to, I know it’s not the right thing for you, just as you know it’s not.
When you came home from Thistledown and told me all about it, there was something in your eyes I haven’t seen in a long while, and whatever put that something there is worth pursuing. ’
‘So I wasn’t just seduced by a nice view and dresses with pockets.’
Cat grinned in spite of Gemma’s tears. ‘Perhaps… but there’s nothing wrong with that either.
You might not know what it is yet, but something about the advert spoke to you in the first place, and your visit continued the conversation.
We don’t always know why a thing happens until after the event, when we can look back with hindsight and attribute it to some great wisdom.
But maybe the wisdom is that we don’t have to know beforehand, we just have to trust.’
‘You’re good at this, aren’t you?’ Gemma sniffed. ‘Anybody would think you want rid of me.’
‘I want you to be happy,’ replied Cat. ‘And I don’t think staying here will allow that, I really don’t.
You deserve some happiness, and who’s to say this won’t be the thing to give it to you?
But you’ll never know if you don’t go and find out.
’ She swiped her thumb across Gemma’s cheek.
‘Meanwhile, let’s have a cup of tea and finish the packet of chocolate biscuits.
Then we’ll shift the last of these boxes. ’
Gemma straightened and wiped away the rest of her tears. ‘That, I can do,’ she said.
‘So come on then,’ said Cat a few minutes later, her hands wrapped around a mug. ‘Tell me all about Willow, and her husband. What did you say his name was?’
‘Rowan.’
‘That’s it. Blimey… Willow and Rowan.’ Cat grinned. ‘I dread to think what they’d call their kids… or as we like to call them, saplings…’
‘Cat!’ exclaimed Gemma. ‘You can’t say things like that.’
Her friend smirked. ‘Okay, okay… but you have to admit it’s funny. Anyway, what are they like? Old? Young? Beautiful? Destined to replace me as your best friend?’
Gemma smiled, rolling her eyes at Cat’s sense of humour.
‘I don’t know about that, but they seemed nice.
Well, she did. I didn’t get to meet him.
He was out collecting some wood – don’t make any more jokes,’ she warned.
‘But I reckon they’re both in their forties too – maybe a little older than me, I find it hard to tell.
She has got the most amazing skin. Honestly, it’s like something from one of our skincare commercials, only real.
But not a scrap of make-up. And long golden hair, too…
But what struck me most was that she has this air of…
’ She wiggled her fingers, searching for the right word.
‘It’s like, a stillness, or…’ She shrugged.
‘I guess she’s just happy. Hopefully some of it will rub off on me. ’
‘She sounds nauseating.’ Cat smirked again, eyeing Gemma over the rim of her mug. ‘But from what you said, the farm is a new venture for them too, so how did they wind up there?’
‘A change of direction,’ replied Gemma, taking a sip of her own drink.
‘They both used to be teachers. Both burnt out, both disillusioned with where their profession was heading and both determined to do something different while they were still young enough. She used the word “retirement” and reckons what they’re doing now is not work, it’s just a different way of living, but it’s certainly not that. It looks bloody hard.’
‘Well, you know what they say… love what you do and you’ll never work another day again.’
Gemma laughed. ‘Yeah, just like at Mayfield Dawson. I’ll remind you of that when you’re up against a deadline and pulling another all-nighter.’
‘Don’t… I’m almost beginning to feel envious. So what will you be doing?’
‘Willow said it’s just like gardening, really, only on a larger scale. I think it will be a question of whatever needs doing, but mainly helping with the fruit and veg planting. She said that’s what she’s focusing on at the moment.’
‘Which you can do, no problem. You used to enjoy gardening.’
‘Twenty years ago, perhaps. But I could do with getting a bit fitter, so that’s something, I suppose.’ She swallowed the rest of her tea and munched the last bite of her biscuit. ‘Come on then, let’s get these boxes shifted.’
Cat laid her mug beside the sink, ready to be washed up and packed at the last minute. Wordlessly, she squeezed Gemma’s arm and smiled as if to say you’ve got this. And Gemma could only wish that she had.
Four and a half hours later, Willow met Gemma outside the same tumbledown farmhouse where they’d first talked, now rapidly disappearing in the gloom of early evening.
She imagined that night here fell like a cloak of darkest velvet, and had she arrived any later it would have been impossible to find her way without help.
Gemma pushed open her car door, fighting down the impulse to turn tail and run.
But nearly everything she owned was in storage, and she had left her house keys with the estate agent handling the tenancy – just where exactly would she run to?
‘Hello!’ called Willow. ‘You made it, then.’
Gemma was struggling to lift her bag from the passenger seat. ‘Just about,’ she said. ‘I made good time getting here, but I missed the turning for the track and it took me ages to find somewhere to turn around. I’m sorry if I’m late.’
‘The time doesn’t matter – we’re just very grateful to have you here. I wasn’t entirely sure you’d come.’
Gemma stood in front of her, the other woman’s face still bright with welcome despite the greying light of dusk. ‘I wasn’t entirely sure I would,’ she replied. ‘But thank you for meeting me. I’d never have found the house on my own.’
‘A proper driveway is on our to-do list,’ replied Willow.
‘Although it is quite near the bottom at the moment.’ She screwed up her face.
‘There always seem to be more important things. Plus, when we moved in it was summer, and the winter and the mud kind of crept up on us somehow… Anyway, let’s get inside where it’s warm.
Dinner won’t be long.’ She peered inside Gemma’s car. ‘Can I help you carry anything?’
‘I have a suitcase in the boot, but that’s it. I wasn’t sure what to bring and I…’ She was about to pass Willow the bag she was holding so that she could fetch her suitcase, but Willow was already at the rear of the car.
‘I’ll take that,’ she said. ‘You won’t want to put it down, it’s pretty muddy on the path.’
From what Gemma could remember, the term ‘path’ was being overly generous.
It suggested paving or a surface of some sort, and unless an awful lot had changed over the past couple of days, the ‘path’ was just the shortest distance from the old farmhouse to where they lived.
‘It’s quite heavy,’ she said. ‘Maybe we should leave it until tomorrow. Perhaps your husband…’
‘It’s no bother,’ replied Willow, already lifting it from the boot.
After a few moments they were on their way – Gemma picking her way carefully through the undergrowth, while Willow sauntered along beside her hugging Gemma’s suitcase to her chest as if it were no more heavy than a bag of potatoes.
‘Rowan’s on dinner duty tonight,’ said Willow as they walked. ‘So you’re in for a treat. I’m the better gardener, but he’s by far the better cook. Unless it’s cakes, then it’s back to me again. But we’re both even when it comes to jam.’
Gemma nodded, trying to store this information.
She was nervous about meeting Rowan as it was, and the memory of Cat’s joke about their names certainly didn’t help.
She had a picture in her head of how Willow’s husband would look, and if he actually was incredibly tall, with a big red bushy beard and wiry arms – just like his namesake tree – she’d be in so much trouble.
Thankfully, he turned out to be almost the opposite – of average height, with neat black hair, a serious expression and round, wire-rimmed glasses. His smile, however, matched that of his wife.