“Honestly, don’t worry. It’s everyday life for us. I think about him all the time. When I wake up. When I go to bed.When I’m with Edwin. When I’m not with Edwin.” She trickled sand between her fingers. “So mentioning him doesn’t upset me in that way.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and breathed in and out deeply before opening them again.
“Of course, Edwin was so young when it happened, he doesn’t remember him really. But we talk about him, of course, to make sure Edwin doesn’t look back and think we let him forget. It’s a shock for other people when we have to tell them for the first time, that’s the thing.”
She passed me a paper napkin to use as a tissue, and I blew my nose noisily. I couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make it worse, and shook my head instead.
“Honestly, it’s okay,” she said. “To talk about him. I’m sorry too.”
We watched Edwin play for a while.
“So, whoisAlex?” I asked eventually, to try to make her smile again, and it worked.
“Ah, Alex. You’ll meet him on Saturday. He’s an old friend.” She carried on watching Edwin and didn’t say any more. I rubbed sand from my shins.
“And why don’t you swim in the sea anymore?” I asked her, my head partially turned away. She laughed.
“No reason. I was being silly. It’s cold, I suppose, and I don’t like not being able to see where I’m putting my feet. How boring!” She jumped up and called Edwin over. “Let’s show Laura how to make a Summerbourne sandcastle, shall we?”
“A Mayes sandcastle, Mummy.”
“All right. A super Mayes sandcastle. And when you see Uncle Alex on Saturday, you can tell him all about it.”
I considered asking why, if Alex was a friend, she called him an uncle. But her comment about me being discreet echoed in mymind. We set to work, and a lopsided sandcastle grew and spread until Edwin spotted two figures waving at the top of the cliff.
“Joel’s here!” he shrieked, and scampered toward the steps, only pausing when Ruth’s sharp voice made him wait for us to gather up all our belongings before she would allow him to start the ascent. Michael waited at the top, holding the hand of a small, dark-skinned boy and not letting go until we were all safely away from the cliff edge.
“Joel!” Edwin squealed, and the two boys clutched each other and twirled around, giggling.
“They can come with me to the orchard,” Michael said, and the boys followed him back to the garden gate, chattering excitedly.
“Joel’s mum’s gone back to Nigeria to look after her mother,” Ruth told me as we made our way back to the house. “Chris—that’s Michael’s son, Joel’s dad—he thought it would be easier if he and Joel moved back into Michael’s cottage until Kemi comes home. I know it sounds selfish, but it’s been great for us over the summer because the boys get on so well—I haven’t had to entertain Edwin while Joel’s around.”
“But Joel goes to preschool now?” I asked.
“Yes. Not full-time, but we’ll see less of him.” She pulled a face. “Dominic thinks Edwin should go too, but I just don’t feel ready. I’d much rather have you here to help me with him.”
I followed her in through the unlocked kitchen doors, kicking my shoes off next to hers, dropping my bags, and accepting a glass of cold orange juice.
“Would you mind awfully if I left you here to listen out for Michael bringing Edwin back?” she asked. “I feel rather headachy.”
“Of course. That’s fine.”
She pottered off along the hall and up the stairs, and I sankdown at the kitchen table, wrapping my hands around my cool glass and closing my eyes. I wondered how common Ruth’s headaches were, and I brushed away the thought that there might be an element of convenience to them. That was none of my business. I could smell her coconut-scented sun cream on my skin, and I rubbed sand from the top of one foot with the bottom of the other, listening to it scattering on the tiled floor in the otherwise silent house. As far as first days in a new job go, this had to be up there with the best.
The rest of my first week passed in a haze of sunny days. We swam in the pool several times, Edwin impressing me with his fearsome doggy paddle and his rudimentary backstroke. We helped Michael tidy some flower beds, collecting seeds into little pots and dividing up some of the bushier plants. We ran races and picked raspberries and built a hideout in the woods in the hope of glimpsing a badger or a fox. On the Wednesday, Ruth took Edwin to his gymnastics class, and I drew up a studying timetable. The three of us made an apple-and-plum crumble together that evening, and devoured it with custard.
I was astonished at how soon Summerbourne felt like home. I began to fall asleep within minutes of my head touching the pillow each night, and didn’t stir until my alarm went off the next morning.
I tried not to dwell on little Theo, Edwin’s lost twin. There were no photos on display downstairs. I wondered how the accident had happened. Ruth didn’t bring the subject up again, and as that week wore on, she became increasingly distracted by plans for Saturday’s picnic.
“Would you like to come with us down to the beach tomorrow?” Ruth asked me on the Friday evening after she’d put Edwin to bed. “You’re very welcome to. But don’t feel you have to.”
I looked at her shopping lists on the kitchen table, and thought about the painting that Edwin had done earlier for Uncle Alex.
“You can decide in the morning, anyway,” Ruth said, and she went out into the hall, humming to herself. The microwave beeped, and I took my hot chocolate through to the annex. I told myself I was undecided, but deep down I knew that of course I would go with them. The lure of a grand Mayes family picnic was much too strong to resist.
5
