Chapter 25 #3
The brief exchange is exasperating, lowering. Part of me wants to scream at him that life is precious; he’s wasting his.
Two weeks after the funeral, Joe comes down for the weekend. But as I watch from an upstairs window as he unloads a couple of suitcases from his car, it looks as though he’s planning to stay much longer.
Suddenly I realise the moment I’ve been putting off has come. Going downstairs, I find him in the kitchen. ‘Hi,’ I say tentatively.
‘Edie.’ His face is pale as he looks at me. ‘I’ve come to stay for a bit. I’m sorry – I should have called you to let you know.’
I’m shaking my head. ‘It’s your house.’ I pause. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’
‘I’d love one.’ Going over to the table, he pulls out a chair and sits down. ‘God, it’s like an escape when I come back here.’
‘It’s home, isn’t it?’ I say, putting a mug of tea in front of him, then sitting down opposite. ‘Are things no better with Tara?’
‘She’s moved out.’ He sighs. ‘She told me she was leaving before the funeral. We’re selling the house. I wanted to get away – hence I’m here.’
It’s the biggest reminder yet that this isn’t my home any more. ‘I’m sorry. You’ll need some space.’ I pause. ‘I’ve been looking at properties. I’ve found a cottage I like. I think I’m going to put an offer in.’
He looks taken aback. ‘Please don’t do it on my account,’ he says. ‘There really isn’t any rush.’
‘I’m going to have to at some point,’ I say gently.
‘Can we talk about this another time?’ Joe looks weary.
‘Of course.’ I hesitate. ‘I’m going to go shopping. How about I cook us something later?’
* * *
When I come back, as I put the shopping away, Joe comes in. He’s changed into jeans and a well-worn sweater, his hair still damp from a shower.
‘I got some fish,’ I tell him.
‘Great,’ he says. ‘I was going to open some wine. Keep me company?’ he adds.
I hesitate. ‘Why not?’ I watch him go over to one of the cupboards and get out a couple of glasses and a corkscrew. ‘Are you OK?’ I ask gently.
‘Surprisingly, I am.’ He takes them over to the table. ‘The stuff with Tara is horrible, if I’m honest. But I’m lucky to have this place. And at least my grandmother won’t have to see my marriage implode.’ Opening a bottle, he pours a couple of glasses.
‘I think she’d guessed something wasn’t right.’ I take the glass he passes to me. ‘She didn’t miss much.’
‘She didn’t miss anything.’ Joe raises his glass. ‘Grandma, wherever you are, thank you – for everything.’
‘Ditto, Mary,’ I say quietly, then take a sip of the wine. Putting my glass down, I look at Joe. ‘So what happens now?’
‘I’ve taken some time off work,’ he says. ‘I’m wondering if maybe it’s time I took a break – I mean, more than a couple of weeks. I’ve taken on a locum to fill in at the practice, while I figure out what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.’ He shakes his head. ‘Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it?’
‘To be honest, I’ve been thinking the same,’ I tell him. ‘I love the wedding flower business Lucy and I have. But I have the feeling there’s more I want to do with my life.’
‘You could convert the stable and live in it? Or sell it?’ he suggests. ‘Maybe this is what happens with middle-age,’ he half-jokes. ‘We finally realise we don’t have forever. It kind of focuses the mind, doesn’t it?’
‘I think death does that, too,’ I say quietly. ‘There’s no bigger reminder that none of us are immortal.’ I watch him frown slightly. ‘Maybe you could think of something to do with this place. Not just the house, but the garden, too. It’s in pretty good shape now,’ I say.
‘There isn’t just the garden, you know. Grandma owned some fields, too – about thirty acres – and some woodland.’ He nods towards the window. ‘Beyond the garden.’
‘I had no idea.’ I’m astonished.
‘She rented them out to a neighbour.’ He sits back, silent for a moment.
‘The thing is, if I did decide to stay, I’ve no idea what I’d do with it all.
If I’m honest, a part of me doesn’t want to sell,’ he admits.
‘I spent my childhood here – and it’s a really lovely old house.
I can imagine someone buying it and turning it into a wedding and events venue.
No offence…’ He adds. ‘But I like to think of it being a home.’
‘I can understand that,’ I say. Then I have an idea. ‘Could you run a vet’s practice from here?’
He seems to freeze. Then he looks at me. ‘That isn’t a bad idea.’
Then it’s as though we’re both thinking the same. ‘The stable would be perfect,’ I say.
‘The stable is yours,’ he reminds me. ‘It’s in my grandmother’s will. You should be receiving a letter from her solicitor – if you don’t get it, I’ll chase them up.’
I look at him. ‘But you have to admit, it would be the perfect place for a veterinary surgery.’
‘I can build one if I want to. The stable is yours,’ he says firmly. ‘And I’m happy with that, I promise you. I don’t feel any sense of ownership. I just want to see my grandmother’s wishes carried out.’
I sit there watching as he picks up the bottle and tops up our glasses. ‘Can I ask you something?’ His eyes rest on me. ‘I know you lost your daughter,’ he says gently. ‘And please don’t feel you have to tell me. But I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I was wondering what happened to her.’