‘No need,’ she said. ‘I cleaned it carefully and put on antiseptic cream. It’ll heal in a few days.’
‘You might need stitches.’
‘It’s not deep enough.’
‘Still, I think you should get it checked out, just in case. And that bruise looks horrendous. You must have gone down with an almighty bang.’
Glancing round, she noticed the whites of his eyes were bloodshot and his brow was a mass of wrinkles. His solicitude was touching, but it could start to get on her nerves.
‘Thanks, but I’ll let nature take its course. I’m sure sea water will help it heal, too.’
Straightening up, he set his Panama on the table and ran his hands through the tufts of grey-brown hair on either side of his bald patch.
‘You look after everyone else, but no one looks after you.’ He reached for the wine bottle and topped up both their glasses. ‘I wish you’d let me take care of you for once.’
‘I don’t need to be looked after. Anyway, I’d rather talk aboutyou.’
He grimaced, before picking up his glass and draining it. When he tried to top her up again, she shook her head.
‘I feel a bit fuzzy; I’d better stop.’
Nodding, he emptied what was left in the bottle into his own glass, took another swig and stared into the distance.
His broad, flat nose was shiny and there were beads of sweat on his upper lip.
‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you invited me here.’
Stella swallowed. ‘Oh yes?’
‘It’s time I moved on from Harriet. She’s gone and nothing’s going to bring her back. I accept that now. I’ve done enough wallowing. I need to start a new chapter.’
The skin on Stella’s arms prickled and her mouth felt dry. This was good news, surely? It just wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d imagined she might have to stop him going on about Harriet all the time, because it would pull everyone down.
Her head itched; in fact, everything itched. She wasn’t sure where to scratch first. He had a right to look to the future now, for his daughter’s sake as well as his own. He couldn’t go on mourning forever. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel wounded on Harriet’s behalf, as if she’d been jilted.
‘That’s great,’ she said without conviction. ‘I’m really pleased for you.’
He turned to her. ‘Are you? Really?’
‘Well, yes. I mean, you deserve to be happy. It’s what Harriet would have wanted, I’m sure.’
‘That’s wonderful!’ He drained his glass again and replaced it on the table. ‘Thank you.’
Stella wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking her for, but he certainly seemed relieved. Did he plan to dip a toe in the dating game and wanted her blessing? If so, he had it; she just didn’t need details.
A sudden memory made her stomach turn over. It was a Wednesday morning, just a month or so before Harriet’s death. She lived close to a giant wholesale store and Stella had decided to pop in, as usual, on her way to buy food for a forthcoming catering event.
They’d sat at the breakfast bar laughing and drinking coffee. Harriet was pale and painfully thin but remarkably bright and chatty, given the circumstances – right up until the time Stella said she needed to go.
‘Must you?’ Out of the blue, her friend’s face had crumpled.
Stella had looked properly at Harriet and could still recall that jolt she’d felt, like an electric shock. Harriet’s eyes were frightened, terrified, even. She was like a small child, alone and completely lost.
For a few moments, Stella had hesitated, thinking she mustn’t leave; she should stay and keep her friend company. But then she’d remembered the catering event at the weekend and all the work she had to do beforehand.
She told herself Harriet could cope until Amanda arrived after lunch to do the next shift. She was a local friend and very supportive.
‘What time is Jon back?’ Stella had asked next, and she’d been relieved by Harriet’s response:
