‘I’m all right, thanks. I wasn’t looking properly.’
They had to stop twice to allow a young couple and a group of middle-aged foreigners to pass by in the opposite direction, but otherwise, they had the mountain to themselves.
It was hot and there wasn’t a scrap of shade. Stella was pleased she’d worn her navy baseball cap. Jon had been forced to remove his Panama because it kept blowing off. He’d slathered his bald patch in thick factor fifty, which gleamed white in the bright morning light, making him look rather peculiar.
Stella found herself thinking she was relieved Al still had a good head of hair, until she remembered they weren’t together any more.
Her pace slowed and her feet started to drag. Before the final split, Al had kept complaining she was pushing him away. Husbands and wives were supposed to share their feelings and support each other, he’d said.
‘I know you’re grieving, but how can I help when you won’t talk to me?’
They were in the kitchen. The kids had just left for school and Stella was clearing away the breakfast things. Harriet had been gone six weeks and now the funeral was over, Jemima had returned to her classes. Jon, meanwhile, was technically back at work, but there were days when he simply couldn’t function properly. Today being one of them, Stella had promised to go for a long walk with him instead.
She could ill afford the time. The cupboards were bare at home and she desperately needed to do a supermarket trip. Plus, she had two quite lucrative dinner party bookings coming up which she might have to cancel if she couldn’t devote enough time to the preparations. This was weighing on her mind.
‘Stella?’ Al nudged her because he could tell her thoughts was elsewhere. ‘I need you to talk to me.’
She wanted to scream at him to go away and leave her alone; she couldn’t face a discussion now.
‘What do you want me to say?’ she’d replied instead in a sullen voice, opening the dishwasher and deliberately stacking it noisily with cutlery, bowls and mugs. ‘You know how stretched I am. It must be boring listening to me repeating myself.’
Al rose from the sofa, where he’d been carefully watching her, and started to put away the cereal packets on the table.
‘What can I do to make things easier for you?’ he’d asked again.
It was a genuine question, but her nerves were even more frayed than usual.
‘Can you go to the supermarket and make supper and organise the catering for the two parties I’ve got coming up and spend time with Jon, who’s in a bad way today? Oh, and meet Jemima after school to talk about uni options, and think about meals for her and Jon, too, and make sure the washing’s up to date?’
He was in a clean white shirt and navy trousers, ready for the office. She knew full well he wouldn’t be able to do half those things.
‘No,’ he’d said with a sigh, ‘I can’t take time off, sorry. But I can shop for us after work and make supper, and do you really need to see Jon? Isn’t there someone else who could keep him company today?’
She turned and glared at her husband with flashing eyes.
‘There’s no one else; you know that perfectly well.’
‘Could you get someone in to help you with the catering? Just as a temporary measure, I mean?’
‘Who? Good chefs don’t grow on trees. Besides, I don’t make enough to justify paying someone else as well.’
Realising he was on a losing wicket and she’d bat everything he suggested straight back, he tried another tack.
‘Hasn’t Lily got a hockey match after school?’
‘Yes, and I’ve told her I can’t go.’
‘That’s a shame. You enjoy watching her. She’ll be sorry you’re not there.’
Stella stuck her hands on her hips.
‘Don’t guilt-trip me. Why don’t you go instead?’
‘I wish I could, but I can’t.’
She snorted meanly. ‘Hah! Well then, get off my back.’
He seemed to sway a little, and there was uncertainty in his eyes.
