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The nurse is huffing after us. She’s carrying a small holdall and an envelope. “There are your mother’s things…”
I thank her, take the bag, and pocket the envelope, then steer Ruth into the back seat of the cab.
“Where to?” the driver asks over his shoulder.
Ruth rattles off an address, then sobs all over Faith’s shoulder until we pull up in front of a nondescript semi, somewhere out in the Cambridge suburbs.
I pay the driver while the women make their way up the front path. They are waiting for me when I join them.
“I don’t have my key,” Ruth whispers. “I don’t know where it is.”
My guess would be that it’s back at Caernbro Ghyll with the rest of her possessions. I settle for the next best thing, my pocket knife. Opening the lock is the work of moments. As we troop inside, I make a mental note to arrange for a more secure one to be fitted.
The house is small. A living room, a dining room, and kitchen downstairs, three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. It’s clean and tidy, unpretentious.
Ruth pads around the downstairs rooms, stroking the furniture, as though expecting her mother to appear at any moment.
“I don’t… I’m not sure if there’s anything in,” she mutters. “I’d offer you some tea…”
“I can deal with that.” Faith takes over. “Beth, can you nip to the shop along the road. We’ll be needing milk, I expect. And a loaf. You just sit yourself down, lass.”
Ruth does as she’s told. She settles in an armchair and stares into space while Faith and Beth bustle about seeing to the customary things to be done at such a time.
I put the bag with her mother’s things at the foot of the stairs to take up later, then extract the envelope from my jacket pocket. I hand it to Ruth.
She opens it and pulls out two folded sheets, which she stares at as though they’re written in hieroglyphics.
I take them from her nerveless fingers and scan the handwritten notes. “Instructions for her funeral,” I explain. There’s a note on one of those sticky bits of paper attached to the top sheet.
Esther told me what she wanted and asked me to write it down for her. JS.
I check the instructions.
“Well, this saves you a lot of bother. She organised it already.” I imagine the old lady, efficiently making her own arrangements in her final weeks. I wish I’d met her. I think we’d have got on. “She’s already instructed an undertaker and paid him. All you have to do is ring him up and tell him to get started.”
Ruth cracks a sad smile. “I might have known she’d leave nothing to chance. Can I borrow your phone again?”
“Beth has to get back,” Faith explains gently. “For Jacob.”
Ruth nods. “Of course. I understand.”
“But I’d like to stay a while, if that’s okay with you. Just until the funeral, at least. I can help with…everything.”
Ruth’s brow furrows. “That’s not necessary. I can manage.”
Faith is adamant. “I promised Esther. You need someone with you right now.”
“I don’t know what to say. I can’t ask you to do that. You have your own life.”
“You didn’t ask me. Esther did, and I owe her everything. I cared for one of her daughters, and she trusted me with another. She didn’t want you to be on your own, and you won’t be. Let me help. Please.”
“Thank you.” Ruth’s voice is little more than a whisper. “I appreciate that.”
I do, too. I’ve always had a soft spot for Faith Sampson, but never more than today. I don’t encounter that much in the way of genuine compassion and human decency in most people I meet, but Faith embodies those qualities. Beth’s loyalty to her might have been misplaced, but it makes some sort of sense to me now.
Ruth fixes her gaze on me. “Will you…will you be leaving, too?”
I nod. “Soon. I need to get back.”
