Chapter 14 #3
I stare at her. ‘The funny thing is, I’m starting to like the idea. You know me, Luce. I’m never happier than when I’m cooking for people, or making my home look nice. But now, I’m only doing it for myself.’ I hesitate. ‘Also, there’s the garden to consider.’
As she looks at me, her eyes widen. ‘You seriously think you’d be OK leaving your house? I’ve been thinking about it, too. I wondered if it might be a case of too much too soon.’
‘I don’t think it would be.’ I’m oddly calm about it. In reality, what the house holds is stuff. More precious are the memories that will come with me.
‘What will you do next?’ she asks.
‘I actually think I’m going to talk to Mary about it.’
‘Wow.’ Lucy frowns. ‘Are you sure you’ve given this enough thought?’ She pauses for a moment. ‘You’ve had so much going on, Edie. I’d hate to think I’ve pushed you into something.’
‘Don’t worry, you haven’t,’ I reassure her.
‘I thought about it all evening. Mary’s house is massive.
We’d hardly be on top of each other. I could do the shopping, cook meals.
See to the washing and keep the house tidy.
I don’t work full time, and it isn’t as though she’s ill.
She’s just frail and needs some help. Yes, I have dark days; days I need to be alone.
But the garden is there; I need that, too, and the sense of sanctuary it gives me. ’
‘If you’re sure.’ She hesitates. ‘It would be great if it worked for both of you, wouldn’t it?’ Lucy pauses. ‘She knows about Lexie, doesn’t she?’
‘Yes.’ I was cutting flowers for your funeral, two weeks after you’d gone. I’ll never forget Mary coming out to the garden, listening as I told her what had happened to you. She’d shared my sadness; told me she’d lost someone dear to her, too young. That she understood how I felt.
‘Maybe sleep on it another night,’ Lucy suggests.
I look at her. ‘I think I already know – I just need to find out if it works for Mary.’ My mind starts to whir. ‘The only problem might come when we’re out setting up weddings.’
Lucy hesitates. ‘If it’s a problem, we’ll find a way around it. But first things first. We don’t even know if she’s going to go for it.’
‘I’m going to call her,’ I say. ‘Then if she’s in, I’ll go and see her.’
But when I call her, she doesn’t pick up.
In any case, for the rest of the day, work takes priority.
We spend the afternoon artistically displaying the flowers that have come in, making sure everything is shipshape for the TV cameras tomorrow.
As we close up the workshop, I’m thinking about Mary again.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ I say to Lucy.
‘Bright and early. They’re coming at nine,’ she says, referring to the film crew.
After a quick shop on the way home, on impulse I head over to Mary’s. As I always do, I park near the entrance into the walled garden, breathing in the cool air, the scent of honeysuckle reaching me as I walk towards the house.
A single light is on in the kitchen. Knocking on the back door, I call out. ‘Mary? It’s Edie. Are you there?’
I hear her voice, faint. ‘Coming, dear.’ There’s the clunk of a bolt being slid back before the door opens.
‘This is a surprise.’ Mary looks less groomed than I’m used to seeing her. ‘Won’t you come in?’
Over a cup of tea she makes with shaky hands, I discuss Lucy’s idea with her.
She looks at me anxiously. ‘But you have your own home, dear. I couldn’t possibly ask you to give it up.’
Taking a deep breath, I tell her the reasons why this could be good for both of us. ‘The house is too big for me. And each time I walk in, it’s like I’m stepping into the past.’ I pause. ‘Except it isn’t the same. It never will be.’
‘Nothing is.’ She rests her hand on my arm briefly. ‘Not when you’ve lost someone dear to you.’
‘I know.’ My voice wavers. ‘I think that’s why it feels like the time is right.
I’m really not trying to interfere in any way – or put any pressure on you.
It was just that you said you didn’t want to leave here.
And I thought if that’s still the case, this could be a solution that would work for both of us. ’
For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. ‘You are really so kind,’ she says. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Don’t say anything,’ I suggest. ‘Think about it. And talk to your grandson. Maybe if he’s coming to see you, I could meet him – if you think it’s a good idea, that is.’
I have no idea what Mary will decide, what her grandson will think.
It’s out of my hands. But in a sense, it doesn’t matter.
For me, I’m starting to realise it’s time for change.
When I get home, I go through the kitchen and open the back door, standing there for a moment.
Even I have to admit that buying Ryan out wasn’t my finest idea.
At the time, I’d been driven by nostalgia, a need to maintain some hold on the past. As I try to imagine leaving here, never coming back, I wait for an onslaught of emotion to take me over. But instead, all I feel is emptiness.