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‘Oh, no.’ I stare at her in dismay, feeling gutted for Rory. I suppose I’d just assumed that once Lois capitulated on her offer, the stables would be his, although I’d been feeling a bit hurt that he hadn’t let me know.
She sighs. ‘I feel so guilty. Rory didn’t deserve that. He’s so lovely. But in one way, it’s worked out for the best.’
‘Really? How do you mean?’
She gives a sad little shrug. ‘We’d never have been happy together, Rory and me. Not really. We want such different things in life. I think he knew that before I did, but he couldn’t bear to hurt me by ending things.’
‘Gosh. I didn’t know that.’
‘Neither did I, really. It was just a feeling I had that he wasn’t as keen on me as I was on him. He must have known we weren’t well-matched.’ She smiles wistfully. ‘But hey, such is life. Here’s to the next relationship. Onwards and upwards.’
We raise our glasses to each other.
‘Onwards and upwards,’ I agree, although my head is spinning like a Catherine wheel with all these revelations of hers, and I’m really not surewhatto think...
*****
On Saturday, I get a call from Gran, asking me if I’ll come over and help her get the Christmas decorations down from the attic.
‘Of course,’ I tell her. ‘I’ll drop by as soon as I’ve finished my shift at the café. See you about one?’
‘Perfect. Thanks, love. See you then.’
Driving over to the cottage later, I think about Gran thinking of Christmas. It’s a good sign that she wants the decorations down. It means she’s thinking of her future, beyond the operation. I sigh. It will be the happiest Christmas ever if the operation were to go well. Gran would be on the mend by Christmas Day– possibly even home from hospital, which would be wonderful.
But I can’t afford to think like that. I have to be positive, of course. But it wouldn’t be wise to expect a miracle recovery.
If only Gran could see Freda again before her operation.Imagine that!How emotional it would be! It would give Gran something real and very special to cling on to, going into hospital.
Laughing, I give my head a little shake, as if to dislodge my wild imaginings.
Gran and Freda meeting up again after more than a half century apart?
Lovely as the thought is, it’s never, ever going to happen...
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
When I draw up outside Gran’s cottage, the familiar car parked there already makes my heart skip a beat.
Rory? What’s he doing here?
Gran opens the door with a knowing look. ‘I asked Rory to come as well.’
‘Yes, I can see that, Gran,’ I murmur, gazing at her with a suspicious smile. ‘It’s strange you didn’t mention it when you phoned me.’
‘Oh, didn’t I?’ Her eyes open wide. A picture of innocence. ‘I must have forgotten. Anyway, come on in. Rory’s up in the loft already.’
I stare up the ladder leading to the open hatch in the hallway.
‘Give me your bag,’ says Gran. ‘I’ll get the kettle on for when you’re finished. You know the decorations I want down. The ones in the trunk.’
‘Of course. Same every year. Last year, I got them down myself for you. I didn’t actually need any help.’ I give her a stern look.
She laughs. ‘Well, you’ve got help this year from a lovely man, so don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.’
‘Yes, Gran.’ I glance upwards again, my raised heartbeat nothing at all to do with my dislike of climbing loft ladders.
‘Right, off you go.’ She pats my arm, her eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘You shouldn’t keep a good man waiting.’
