13. No time for pity
NO TIME FOR PITY
The bang of the gong interrupted the sleep Ursula hadn’t realised she’d fallen into.
She jolted upright and woke at the same time.
The room was dark and in her drowsy confusion, she had to fumble around for the bedside lamp that felt too bright when she switched it on.
Her eyes were like wide saucers, growing ever wider as they grew accustomed to the light.
It took a while to shake off the grogginess and by the time she got down to the kitchen, the other residents had taken their seats.
There was only one other place setting left, opposite Andi at the head of the table.
Pablo’s place, she suspected. Not somewhere she’d normally choose, but choice didn’t come into it.
‘Feeling the chill?’ said Don.
‘What? Oh.’ Her hand shot to her neck, she was still wearing Anton’s scarf. ‘I was cold when I got in from my walk. I fell asleep and forgot it was there. Sorry, Brett, I meant to come back to help you.’
‘No worries. Howard gave me a hand. We’ve pretty much taken the wall apart, ready to rebuild.’
‘How was the hill climb?’ said Andi.
‘Invigorating and cloudy.’ Ursula nodded to Esteban who was stretched out on a rug close to the Aga. ‘Esteban stopped me from getting lost on the way up.’ She turned to Brett. ‘He’s a smart dog. Have you had him long?’
Brett shook his head. ‘He’s not mine.’
‘He’s Pablo’s,’ said Andi. ‘He got him from a local farmer when he was a pup. I wasn’t the only one he deserted.’
Of course. The name should have made it obvious.
‘So I guess that makes us both free agents now. There’s always a silver lining if you look hard enough.’
Yes, there was, but perhaps the others weren’t so sure about that. They kept their heads down and an awkward silence hung over them. It was going to be as bad as last night.
Don suddenly tapped a fork against his glass and startled them all to attention. ‘Tonight’s offering is roasted spring veg with crumbled feta and chorizo, accompanied by a cheeky little Rioja from Bala’s very own Bargain Booze. Tuck in.’
Esme prodded a potato with her knife. ‘Where did they come from?’
‘Ursula brought them from her allotment. Thank you, Ursula,’ said Don.
Esme gave her another of those filthy glares. Ursula pretended not to notice and acknowledged Don’s gratitude: ‘It looks delicious.’
The rest of dinner passed without further incident and when it was finished, everyone dispersed to complete chores or relax for the evening. Andi opened another bottle of Don’s cheeky Rioja. ‘Let’s find somewhere quiet so we can talk properly.’
Oddly, for the cosiest room in the house, the lounge’s only occupant was Don who was sitting on the sofa gazing at the fire. He opened his arms out to them. ‘Come and join me.’
‘Not tonight, Don. We’ll find somewhere else,’ said Andi.
There was a flash of disappointment across his face that he tried unsuccessfully to disguise. ‘No, no. You sit yourselves down. I’ll go and watch a bit of telly.’
Ursula sat in the place he’d left. ‘I feel bad throwing him out.’
‘Don’t. He doesn’t mind. Anyway, it’s my house. I’m allowed.’ Andi grinned at her in the way she used to when they were girls, sharing secrets, gossip, and laughter.
‘Does it bother you not having your own private space?’
‘Not really. I’m used to it. Anyway, I do have my own private space upstairs.’
‘Yes, I suppose there is always your room. I met Howard on my walk. He was telling me his wife loved the way you could choose both company and privacy here.’
‘Ah yes, Dilys. You know Megan’s her niece?’
‘Yes, he said. I thought they seemed quite attached.’
‘She worries about him. Probably too much, but she’s very close to Dilys. Or at least she was. No one can get close to Dilys now. She has Alzheimer’s. And Howard seems lost without her, wandering around on that hill day after day.’
‘He’s taking photos for her. I suppose he hopes they’ll trigger something in her.’
Andi sighed. ‘I think it’s too late for that. Your scarf, was it Anton’s?’
‘How did you guess?’
‘The colour. Anton was a devil for grey.’ There was that cheeky grin again, the one that told her they were still sharing laughter, even after all these years. ‘Did you find it hard to let go of his things?’
‘I haven’t got round to it yet.’
‘Oh, Urs.’
Ursula laughed, even though she hadn’t meant to but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
Andi wasn’t supposed to be pitying her. It was the wrong way round.
Ursula wanted to change the subject but she couldn’t think of anything that would haul her back to safe ground.
It would have to be something halfway then.
Something uncomfortable but not impossible to talk about.
‘When I was up on the hill, I was thinking about that night my father turned up at Talulah. Do you remember it?’
‘I remember that man, your father, having a right go at Cass before storming off. I remember Cass in a blind panic and the two of us running up and down New Street looking for you. And all the time you were getting off with Anton in his office.’
‘I was not getting off with him. I kissed him, and then he took me home.’
‘Oh right, so that wasn’t getting off with him then?’
Ursula made a face like she was weighing things up. She’d managed to steer it back to safe ground after all. ‘I suppose you could call it that, if you were a facetious madam. I prefer to think of it as the start of my double life.’
Andi poured some more wine. She was smiling again. Perhaps she was happy to be on safe ground too. Perhaps she wasn’t ready to be pitied either. ‘Yes, that is a good way to describe it. We had some good times, didn’t we?’
‘Some bloody good times.’ Ursula thought back to those days of music, dancing, and eccentric clothes. Days of silliness and sweetness and undying friendship. Promises that seemed so easy to keep. Undoubtedly, the very best days of her life. Shame she didn’t know it at the time.