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She paused in the doorway, saw that only Clare was downstairs and seemed to consider whether she should turn and leave again.
Clare felt terrible. She’d been thinking about herself, and Becca, and all the previous holidays they’d spent here. She’d felt as if she was betraying her friend by having Flora in the house, which made no sense at all now she thought about it. What was she going to do? Bar Jack and the girls from visiting again? Hardly.
She, who had always been so shy as a child and had frequently felt like an outsider, had made Flora feel like an outsider.
She felt ashamed of herself. Her mother would have welcomed a guest into her home regardless of the history or her personal feelings.
“Good morning! Did you sleep? Can I interest you in coffee?” Compensating like mad, Clare filled a mug to the brim and handed it to her. It was all very well deciding to be warm and friendly, but she didn’t know Flora at all. What was she supposed to talk about? She’d never been that good at small talk. Where was Todd? He was never far from the coffeepot in the mornings, but he seemed to have vanished.
She just had to hope that Jack would join them soon. Presumably he and Flora hadn’t shared a room.
Flora took the coffee gratefully. “Thank you. And I’m definitely a coffee drinker. When I start my day at the flower market coffee is the only thing that keeps me going. That and picking up roses by their thorns.”
Flowers! Of course! That was something they had in common.
“Jack says you’re a florist. How wonderful. I can’t think of anything better than working with flowers all day.” She winced as she heard her unnaturally cheerful voice.
To try to find some degree of normality, she busied herself in the kitchen. Whatever mood people were in today after the alcohol and tension of the night before, a good breakfast would surely help, and her kitchen always calmed and soothed her. “You have your own business?” She threw baby tomatoes into a baking tray, tossed them in olive oil and slid them into the oven to roast while she whipped up a bowl of frothy eggs ready for omelets.
“No, nothing so grand. I work for someone else, which means that they can worry about the income and the market.” Flora slid her hands round the mug, warming her hands even though the room wasn’t cold. “That probably sounds sadly unambitious to you.”
“No. I totally get it.” Clare sliced mushrooms until they formed a small heap on the chopping board. “You’re looking at the woman who walked away from what some people thought was one of the most glamorous jobs there is, to live in a forest and focus on my family. Becca never understood it.” The moment she said it she wanted to suck the words back. “I’m so sorry.” Becca, Becca, Becca. What was wrong with her? She seemed to think and talk about her friend more now that she was gone than she had when she was alive.
“Don’t apologize. She was your best friend. I understand that you need to talk about her.”
Flora was a great deal more patient than she would have been in the same position.
“I suppose that with Jack being here—well, it slips out sometimes.”
“I understand. When you lose someone you love, talking about them is a way of keeping them alive. Of remembering them.”
Was that what it was? Was she keeping Becca alive? “It’s just that every summer we—I mean…we’ve never had—”
“—a summer without Becca. I know.” Flora took a sip of coffee and put the mug down carefully.
Clare fumbled for something to say. She was the one who was supposed to make Flora feel better, but so far it had been the other way round. “This must be hard for you, too.”
“Not as hard as it is for all of you. I’m sorry if I’ve made this awkward. I tried to tell Jack it would be difficult, but he wouldn’t listen and if I’m honest I couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing him and the girls for three weeks.”
She cared. Clare could see she cared. And Jack cared, too. He’d been smiling the day before. Happy.
At the funeral there had been a gray tinge to his face that had worried her. Now it had gone.
That tense knot inside her l
oosened.
“I’m glad you came. I’m glad you’re here.” As she said the words she realized that she meant them. “It’s good to see Jack smiling again.”
“He was in a pretty awful state when we first met.” Flora took a breath. “I’m not trying to replace Becca. I hope you don’t think that. I know I couldn’t. She was as close to perfect as a person could get. I’m far from that.”
Clare gaped at her. Was that what she thought? That Becca was perfect? If she hadn’t been so astonished she might have laughed out loud.
“No one is perfect.”
“Becca obviously came close.” Flora gripped the mug. “She ran marathons for charity, built a successful business, and did all that while running a home and being a wife and mother. And friend. Jack says you and Becca were friends from kindergarten. That’s a special relationship. When you know someone for most of your life, you know the real person. Everything about them. You know what they’ve been through, and you understand them. There are very few secrets. You see them the way they really are.”
“True.” But sometimes, Clare wondered, that wasn’t always a good thing.
