32. Something momentous
SOMETHING MOMENTOUS
Ursula ate breakfast with Don and Brett.
It had just been the three of them last night at dinner.
Esme had taken herself, a large bag of crisps, and a packet of chocolate Hobnobs off to sleep in the bothy.
It was probably too much to hope that the isolation might bring about a period of reflection but on the upside, the evening had been far more agreeable without her.
They’d had a very pleasant and relaxed meal and without Esme here to spoil it, the mood had carried over to breakfast.
‘I messaged Howard this morning. Just to let him know we’re all thinking of him and Dilys,’ said Don. ‘I told him not to worry about replying. How long you got left on this job then, Brett?’
‘Nearly done, but I might have another one lined up after. Could be permanent.’
Don patted him on the back. ‘That’s brilliant, that is. I told you all that hard work would pay off, didn’t I?’
‘Yeah,’ said Brett, blushing. ‘I hope so anyway. Keep your fingers crossed for me.’
Ursula held her fingers up. ‘I’m crossing mine now.’
‘Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm, Ursula.’ Brett looked at his phone. ‘Better go, my lift’s here.’
Don gave him a bag of food. ‘Here, I’ve made you some lunch. Go get ’em boy.’
‘You look after him,’ said Ursula, after Brett had gone.
‘Someone’s got to, I suppose. It’s been the making of him coming here. One of the few good things Pablo did.’ He clapped his hands together. ‘Right, I’d better crack on. I’ve promised myself a walk before I start my jobs. Care to join me?’
‘Thanks but I have my own job to do. It might take a while so I’m starting early.
’ She’d woken up this morning with her mind on one thing.
Breaking habits. The phone call with Clyde had set her thinking, and maybe it had given her a tiny injection of confidence too.
She was thinking that if she dug really deep, she’d find the strength to make one change, and if she could do that, perhaps more would follow.
So this morning, she was going to break a habit.
Or, as she liked to think of it, look a fear in the eye.
Charlie Big Potatoes caught up with her on the stairs and slipped through her legs as she opened the door to Andi’s sewing room.
Ursula shooed him off the table where the fabric was still laid out.
He gave her a haughty flick of the tail then curled up on one of the chairs, closed his eyes, and dozed straight off.
Her hands started trembling as soon as she began to mark out the measurements.
By the time she picked up the scissors, they were shaking so much there was no way she’d be able to cut a straight line.
Ursula closed her eyes and took one long breath, then another until the shaking stopped.
She might just get through this. But then she saw herself with the christening gown in her arms, the blood running down her legs, and she couldn’t breathe.
It was Charlie’s miaow that brought her back.
He was rubbing himself against her, weaving this way and that around her.
Ursula loosened her grip on the scissors and saw that her fingers were marked with vivid red indentations.
She wanted to put the scissors down but if she did that, she might not pick them up again.
Slowly, she slipped the fabric between the open blades and, even more slowly, began to cut.
Every snip brought with it another image of blood and terror and lost babies.
She needed something to stop them. And then as if from nowhere a wobbly voice was singing ‘Supernature’.
It took her a moment to realise the voice was hers.
At last she reached the end. Every part of her was still trembling.
Her face was damp with sweat, and her top was stuck to her back, but she’d managed to cut a line.
It would never have passed muster with her mum or Wanda but she’d done it.
Finger by finger she let go of the scissors and lay down on the floor.
Charlie jumped on top of her and pushed his head against her face.
Ursula closed her eyes and saw her mum smiling back at her.
She must have been there ten minutes or so before there was a soft knock at the door. ‘Okay if I come in?’ said Don.
‘Yes, it’s not locked.’
‘I heard you singing. I thought you might like a coffee. Oh, there you are. Taking a break?’
Ursula hadn’t realised she’d been singing so loudly. She sat up. ‘I’m building myself up to the next phase.’
‘You’re making the Christmas tablecloth. Andi makes a new one every year. It’s a bit of a tradition. You must be good if she’s asked you to do it.’
‘I was, once. A lifetime ago. I’m not sure it’ll be as good as Andi’s.’
‘If she’s asked you to make it, she must be confident you’ll do it justice. Very important the Christmas tablecloth tradition. I’ll leave you to it. By the way, what I said about Pablo earlier, I just wanted to say, it’s not that I’m not grateful to him for bringing me here.’
‘I understand. Can I ask a question about the photos in the library? There’s a young woman in one of them. I think she’s the artist who painted my room.’
‘Claudette. Yes she is. Was that your question?’
‘Who took the photo of her?’
‘Ooh, not sure. I think it might have been Pablo.’
Ursula snipped the final thread. Her back ached and she had to lie down on the floor again to stretch it out.
When she used to do this sort of thing all the time, a tablecloth and napkins would have taken a couple of hours at the most. But it had taken all day to put together something that was halfway decent.
In Andi’s collection of ribbons and bindings, she’d found a reel of dark green satin that was a perfect match to the embroidered holly leaves.
It made a lovely edging for the tablecloth, and she was proud of it.
How strange it was after all these years to be proud of her work.
How unfamiliar. But there was more to it than simply making a tablecloth.
Something momentous had happened today. She’d followed Clyde’s advice, faced a fear and learned from it.
And the thing she’d learned was that hidden away deep down inside was the strength that might just help her face her biggest fear.
She shut her eyes hoping to see her mum again but all she saw was darkness.
She was fine with that. Anything was better than blood and death.
Her mum would have approved of this room and, if she’d been here now, she’d have been patting Ursula on the back, just as Don had done with Brett this morning.
Her mind treated her to a flashback she hadn’t had in years.
A happy one this time. A little reward for her good work.
Her mum and Cass together, working on a design.
She’d tried to ring Cass after Anton had gone off to Canada, but there was never any answer.
She’d gone back to the shop but it was closed up.
She’d even visited Cass’s house. Again, there was no one there.
She’d just disappeared. Until the day she came back, that is.
And by then, Ursula had almost forgotten about that conversation in the hospital car park.