Melissa couldn’t keep up with the weather – one minute it was sunny, then the rain clouds appeared and the drizzle came, then it dried up again and the sun had another go at convincing them all it was still summer. She pulled on her sunglasses and set off to Barney’s, a ten-minute walk away.
On the pavement outside the cottage with its little front gate that was easier to open as a kid than an adult who needed to bend right down, she looked at the place she’d visited more times than she could count. She smiled inwardly at the sight of the barn’s roof to the left, beyond the trees that obscured the courtyard in front. She was back and no matter the challenges she faced, it actually felt better than she’d expected.
She bent down, lifted the latch to the gate and it creaked in its familiar way. She knocked on the door but no answer, she knocked again, then a third time a little harder. She didn’t use this entrance as a kid, she always came through the gate, turned and passed through the trees and then went in through the back door. This door was usually locked, the back door never was. But after all this time it didn’t feel right to come in any way other than the formal front entrance.
When she still got no response she had no choice but to cut down the path, between the trees and across the courtyard around to the back door, where the June sunshine filtered into the large open space that contained the kitchen and lounge area. Barney had always said the kitchen was the heart of the home but he’d wanted guests to be able to talk to each other from the sofa and armchairs, from the large Aga cooker, from the table as they ate, and so he’d had the rooms knocked into one.
She froze as she peered around the doorframe. Barney was sitting in the armchair closest to the fireplace, which had a dried-flower arrangement with purples and yellows to add a bit of colour when it was too warm to add logs and kindling and light the flames. His eyes were shut, his head leaning back, and her breath caught. The house seemed quiet in a way it had never been before. Barney loved noise, hustle and bustle, the craziness of kids racing about, or the radio for company if he found himself home alone. And even though the June sunshine streamed in through the glass, through the open back door where she was standing, the place looked cold and empty.
He slowly opened his eyes as he sensed he was being watched but it took a while for him to realise what he was seeing. ‘Melissa?’
‘Hello, Barney.’ She couldn’t help the wobble in her voice as her eyes filled with tears. She raced over to him and wrapped him in a hug before kneeling down on the floor, her head resting on his legs, his hand clutching hers. It was as though she was a little girl all over again.
‘I can’t believe you came.’ His voice caught but he was still able to comfort her, shush her, even as his own tears flowed. The sniff gave him away.
They stayed that way until they’d both recovered, although he got there before her. ‘Dry your tears, I’m not dead yet.’
She looked up and laughed, wiping her cheeks. ‘Thank God.’
‘Came close though.’
She grinned. ‘You look like you’re going to be fine.’ She hadn’t wanted to ask Harvey any details, but the fact that Barney was home and Harvey was going about his business told her that Barney was on the road to recovery.
‘I had a fall, they replaced my hip, that’s all.’
Even though he tried an injection of humour, Melissa could tell he wasn’t himself. Or maybe that’s what a five-year absence did, it made you forget that ageing waited for no one. ‘How long before you’re up and about again, properly?’
‘No rush.’
‘That wasn’t what I asked.’
‘Who knows? Maybe I’m too old to get back to what I was.’ His cold hand covered hers again as though he daren’t let her out of his sight. ‘Don’t look at me like that. Let’s face it, I’m no spring chicken.’
She pulled a tissue from the pocket of a fresh pair of jeans she’d thrown on with a creased white T-shirt that could’ve done with a good iron before she came over. ‘Of course you’ll get back to normal, give it time, be patient with yourself.’
‘I’ve got a walking frame.’ He glanced over at the grey contraption he must’ve used to get to the chair. ‘Ugly thing. What’s next? Having to install those thick monstrous safety bars everywhere?’
‘I don’t think you’re at that stage yet.’ She watched him shuffle uncomfortably in the armchair. The skin on his hands seemed thinner, age spots peppered the surface, and he’d definitely lost weight since the last time she’d seen him. But she didn’t know how much to put down to this setback or how much of it had happened over time.
‘I’m old, I’m past it, and I’m cancelling the Wedding Dress Ball too.’
She sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of him. ‘Barney, you can’t be serious.’ She might have been away for a while but the memories of the event still held a special place in her heart.
‘It’s too much work, too much for me anyway, I’ve had enough. Let someone else do it, but it won’t be me, and it won’t happen at the barn either.’ He wouldn’t meet her gaze.
She opened her mouth to say something else but shut it again. He looked like the Barney she knew but he certainly didn’t sound like him. In all the time she’d known him he’d never once said he was fed up with the ball, never so much as hinted that one day he wouldn’t want or be able to do it.
Had things changed that much?
‘What did the doctors say? What was their advice to get you on the road to recovery?’ She decided to steer the topic away from the ball for now; perhaps Barney wasn’t thinking straight.
‘They’ve given me a list of exercises to follow when I’m up to it.’
‘Then I’ll help you.’
‘You’re not only here for the day?’
‘I’m here for three weeks.’ If ever she’d doubted he would smile at her in the same way he had when she was a little girl, all doubts were erased now as he beamed back at her. ‘Do you think you can put up with me hanging around that long?’
