Chapter 7 #2
‘Well, I must thank Scattihen when I see her. There are some hens at that house as you come into the village. Could she have gone up there?’
‘They’re Cressie’s hens and yes, anything’s possible. I’ll get Granny to check when she goes up. I’d better scoot or I’m going to be late.’
‘Have a good time,’ Jules said and watched as Tasha bounded back towards the house, swinging the basket of eggs as she went.
‘So,’ Carrie said, tapping into her boiled egg, ‘what do you fancy doing today?’
Jules didn’t actually feel like doing anything. What she really wanted was to go back to bed, close her eyes and never wake up. But from the determined set of Carrie’s mouth, that wasn’t going to happen.
‘Beach?’ Carrie asked. ‘It’s going to be a nice day. I could show you the dinosaur foot casts. They’re amazing. Or we could take a trip to Carisbrooke Castle. That’s pretty impressive.’
Jules dipped a toast soldier into the top of her egg and half shook her head at the same time.
‘I’m happy to just mooch around here today if you don’t mind.’
Carrie wrinkled up her nose.
‘Mooching is not good.’
‘Sometimes it’s all you’re capable of.’
‘Why don’t we wander up to the gardens then? It’s closed to the public today, but we can still have a mooch around there for an hour and then you can carry on your mooching back here.’
Jules really didn’t have the energy to protest, which is how she found herself following Carrie into The Manor gardens and closing the solid side gate behind them.
Carrie had brought a flask of coffee, and she led the way down some steps into what was called the tropical garden.
There was a grass maze in the middle of the lawn, borders all around the edge and a choice of four wooden benches to sit on.
‘We can have two each,’ Carrie said, ‘and then you don’t have to talk to me. Take your pick.’
Jules settled herself on a bench at the far side with a tall stone wall to the back of her and the sun slanting in from the side. She was glad that Carrie had suggested taking a hat and sunglasses. She couldn’t think of anything practical at the moment and she was normally such a practical person.
Carrie poured the coffee and produced a couple of ginger biscuits from her pocket.
‘Where are you going?’ Jules asked, as she began to walk away.
‘Over there,’ she said, pointing to a bench on the far side of the lawn.
‘Now I feel guilty.’
‘No need to. I’m going to meditate, and you can sit here and soak up the beauty of this place. It’s very healing.’
‘You said that about the cottage.’
‘Because it’s true.’
‘I haven’t felt it yet.’
‘You think you haven’t felt it yet.’
Jules looked up at her.
‘What does that mean?’
‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Yes, I do.’
Carrie twisted her lips and came and sat cross-legged on the grass in front of Jules.
‘Okay,’ she said, slowly. ‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself for a moment and listen. Really listen.’
‘I think I’m entitled to feel sorry for myself.’
‘Yes, you are, but there comes a time when you have to move forwards.’
‘Maybe I’m not ready for that yet.’
Carrie swivelled on to her knees, wincing as coffee slopped over her ankle.
‘No,’ she said, ‘maybe you’re not.’
‘But you might as well spit it out anyway,’ Jules said, ‘instead of keeping it bottled up. I know what you thought of Gavin and, let’s face it, you were right.’
‘I didn’t want to be proved right,’ Carrie said, softly. ‘God, Jules, I care about you. I didn’t want to see him making you unhappy.’
‘I don’t think I’m destined for happiness. Not romantically anyway.’
A tear dropped into her coffee.
Carrie took the cup from her hands and put it down on the grass before sitting next to her.
‘Jules, give yourself a break, will you? I can’t bear to see you like this. You are a strong person.’
‘No, no, I’m not. Everyone thinks that, but I’ve just been pretending all this time.’
‘Actually, I don’t think that’s true. It’s just what your brain is telling you at the moment because it’s scrambled.’
Carrie handed Jules a tissue.
‘I’ve got one. Tasha says to never go anywhere without a tissue.’
‘Well, she’s right.’
Carrie clasped Jules’s hands.
‘Just tell me, why are you crying?’
‘What sort of a stupid question is that?’ Jules sniffed.
‘One that at least has got your attention. I know that you desperately wanted Gavin to be “the one”, but did he really make you happy, in a spending the rest of your lives together way?’
‘I was happy when I was with him.’
‘But you were also worried. I know you were.’
Jules nodded.
‘Maybe.’
‘More than maybe.’
‘I miss him.’
Carrie clasped her hands tighter, despite the fact that Jules’s tears were falling on to them.
‘I wonder if you’re crying for the relationship that you thought you were going to have, rather than the one you actually did.’
Jules took a gulp of air.
‘I thought…’ she gasped. ‘I really thought…’
‘I know you did and, believe me, I wanted it almost as much as you did, but it’s not the end of the world.
I know it feels like it right now, but it’s not.
I’m testament to that. Coming here is the best thing you could have done.
I promise you. This place will make the world seem a better place and one day you will meet someone who is wonderful and loyal and funny and makes you realise that true love is worth waiting for.
But you need to start trusting yourself, caring for yourself, honouring yourself. ’
‘I don’t know how to do that.’
‘Which is why I’m here. To help you.’
‘To boss me about, you mean,’ Jules said, wiping her eyes.
‘That, too.’
‘Okay, Miss Bossy Boots. Where do I start on this journey into my newfound self.’
Carrie smiled.
‘By drinking your coffee which now has a nice bug floating in it and then we’re going to walk the maze.’
‘Apt,’ Jules said.
‘I think so,’ said Carrie.
And Jules fished the bug out of her drink and thought that Carrie made it all sound so simple, even though love and guilt and shame and the human mind were far from that.
But she’d go through the motions just to please her friend.
Who knew, they might even have the teeniest tiniest beneficial effect?
‘Are you an interloper?’
The voice came from behind a camellia bush and made her jump.
‘I don’t think so. Are you The Major?’
The man stepped into full view wearing a navy blazer, blue shirt and striped tie in spite of the heat of the day. Jules felt warm just looking at him.
‘I might be. Who’s asking?’
‘Jules.’
He tilted his head to one side and studied her.
‘That rings a bell.’
‘I’m a friend of Carrie’s who’s now with Guy who…’
‘Yes, yes, yes, I know who Carrie is and what Guy does. I may look old, but I’m not completely senile. Is she here, Carrie?’
‘Gone to look for you, I think.’
He looked vaguely pleased and then adopted a sterner expression.
‘Checking up on me, seeing whether I’ve eaten my lunch or fallen flat on my face again.’
He pointed to a bruise on the side of his head.
‘Fell down the steps. You’d think after living here all these years I’d know better.’
‘It happens to the best of us.’
‘Can’t let my son know. He’ll have me out of here.’
‘I won’t tell.’
Jules crossed her arms over her chest.
‘Anyway, I’m a nurse and you look pretty hale and hearty to me.’
He glanced behind her and then back at his stick.
‘Can’t climb that tree any more though. Used to scramble up it years ago.’
Jules glanced up at the large oak tree.
‘Really? I don’t think I’d ever have been able to climb it.’
‘Used to have a treehouse halfway up. Just squirrels living there now.’
‘Red ones?’
‘Of course.’
‘I’d love to see a red squirrel.’
‘You have to keep your eyes peeled and stop talking. They’re very shy. If you sit there for long enough you might spot one.’
‘I will, if you don’t mind. You have a very beautiful garden for sitting in.’
‘My wife’s work. We’re making a few changes but nothing major. I wanted it to stay exactly the same, but Carrie and Guy have made me realise that gardens need to evolve.
‘Carrie’s certainly evolved since she came here.’
‘I’ll venture to find her,’ he said, turning on his heel, ‘and reassure her that I’m still breathing.’
‘She’ll be very pleased,’ Jules said.
‘Huh! One of the few who is! Are you staying at the cottage?’
She nodded.
‘That has a pretty garden, but if you need more space, you’re welcome to come over here at any time. If the main gates are closed, you can walk up the holloway into the woods and come through a small gate at the back. Don’t mind bats, do you?’
‘Um, no, I don’t think so.’
‘Good, plenty of bats if you come at dusk. Some people find them disturbing. Rita doesn’t like them.
Something to do with her mother being frightened by one when she was expecting.
Not sure I believe it, but Rita’s not a person to make things up.
She’ll look after you, and Carrie too. They look after me even though I’m a grumpy old so and so.
You’ll be all right with those two around. ’
He tipped his hat and set off down the lawn back towards the house and Jules smiled. The irascible old man who Carrie had described when she first came to the island certainly seemed to have mellowed in the last three months. Underneath that gruff exterior, Jules sensed there was a very kind heart.
‘You sure you’ll be okay?’ Carrie asked later.
‘Absolutely,’ Jules replied. ‘As long as those ghosts you mentioned don’t make an appearance and things don’t start flying through the air.’
‘If there are ghosts,’ Carrie said, ‘they’re very benign. Definitely not poltergeists. I think the spirits here want the best for the house and everyone who visits.’
‘Hmm,’ Jules replied.
‘I know you’re a sceptic, so I don’t know why you’re worried.’
‘I wouldn’t be normally. I suppose I’m just a bit on edge.’
‘And that’s perfectly understandable,’ Carrie soothed.
‘You’ve got to admit,’ Jules said, glancing all around the room, ‘it’s a bit creepy to think of some entities wafting around the house while you’re asleep and whatever you say, you were spooked by that blanket being moved when you first stayed here.
Then when you lost your ring and found the little box under the floorboards containing the teething ring and the baby’s bonnet and—’
‘And the little auburn curl in an envelope with the name Philly on it in the most beautiful copperplate writing,’ Carrie added.
‘You said it was as if someone tried to push you away, to stop you taking up the floor and discovering what lay beneath it.’
‘I admit it was a bit strange.’
‘Don’t you mean scary?’
‘Maybe a little. I’ll stay and make sure they don’t disturb you.’
Jules felt an unexpected flood of relief. How ridiculous. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts. She didn’t even believe in ghosts. She’d spent years waiting for her father to make an appearance or even send her a sign and she hadn’t felt his presence once.
‘You’re trying too hard,’ her mother had said.
‘Of course I’m trying,’ she’d yelled. ‘I want to believe that he’s there, just the other side of some great divide, that he’s watching over me, protecting me, loving me, but he’s not, is he? He’s dead, buried in the ground, gone for good, and there isn’t anything else.’
She’d stormed off, up to her room, and slammed the door so hard a little Beswick china dog had fallen from her shelves and smashed on the wooden floor. She had knelt amongst the pieces and wept, shaking her mother away when she’d come to comfort her. Now, she turned to Carrie with conviction.
‘I’m being completely fanciful. You know I don’t believe in all that stuff. I’ll be fine. You go back to your beloved.’
Carrie looked doubtful.
‘Go on,’ Jules said with as much of a smile as she could muster. ‘It will be good for me to have some time on my own and I’m really tired. Everything must be catching up with me. I’m going to get myself a simple supper, watch some TV and go to bed early so that I’m ready for tomorrow.’
‘And you’ll call if you want anything?’
Jules nodded, trying to usher Carrie towards the door without looking too much as if she wanted to get rid of her. Carrie’s shoulders visibly dropped. She seemed appeased.
After she had gone, Jules made herself a cheese and tomato sandwich and took it out into the garden.
There was a cool breeze rustling the branches of the willow tree.
Tomorrow the weather might change. She’d thought that once Carrie had gone, she’d sit down and have a good cry, but surprisingly enough the urge passed.
Was Carrie right? Was she mourning the life she’d thought she was going to have with Gavin as much as their time together?
She’d certainly done her best to dream of living in the house he was doing up, having children there, growing old together in some pink-hazed utopia.
She’d really got ahead of herself, hadn’t she?
She stood up and stretched, walked around the garden, looked for Tasha, but was disappointed when there wasn’t any sign of her.
Instead, she saw Rita in the distance and waved before turning with indecent haste to retreat inside.
She ran a bath, pouring in some essential oil, swirling it through the warm water so the small bathroom was filled with the scent of patchouli.
Afterwards she found a programme to watch about going on a pilgrimage, which was surprisingly soothing.
Tomorrow she was going to be surrounded by strangers and she felt irrationally nervous about it.
At work she was surrounded by people all the time and she loved it.
What had happened to her? And the thought of actually having to make something, to mould a lump of clay into a presentable offering made her feel all clammy.
Her brain was barely able to decide whether to drink tea or coffee or to spread her breakfast toast with marmalade or strawberry jam, let alone create a mug or pot.
‘It doesn’t matter if you make a fool of yourself,’ she murmured. ‘There will be other people there who have never thrown a pot before. If you don’t get it right first time, it’s okay and Carrie won’t judge, and you’ll never have to see any of those other people ever again.’
She took herself to bed and snuggled down.
The wind rattled at the window. Maybe there was a storm coming.
Maybe she wouldn’t be able to get to The Pottery after all.
Perhaps the road would be flooded, or a tree would come down, and she could just stay here curled up, eyes closed until she felt better.