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11
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Anna’s Journal
Coffee with Sasha was amazing. We talked for so long that I thought we might get kicked out of the café, so I bought us some lunch. Sasha is lovely. I’ve never met another woman who I got along with so well so quickly. She’s only in her thirties, which makes it more surprising, but the more we talked, the more she reminded me of how I was at that age. She spoke about how it took her a long time to know what she wanted to do in life. I told her that I’m still not sure!
She said she did a few things before she found yoga but, once she had, it was a love affair for her. I told her my passion was my home. We talked about how it feels to have found your soulmate. Her boyfriend is called Olly. He’s a writer and he sounds fantastic. ‘I can’t imagine being with anyone else,’ she said. I told her that I feel the same about Nick.
‘Feel? Or felt?’ she asks.
‘Feel,’ I told her. ‘I still feel it, even though he’s not here any more. I’ll never look for another man.’ She said she understood completely. She would never be able to move on if she lost Olly. I feel intrigued by that. She’s a very beautiful young woman so he must be something special. She told me that they’re about to move in together and it cheered me up to hear about their plans. I felt nostalgic for the days when Nick and I had everything ahead of us.
As we were leaving, she said it was obvious that Nick had left a huge hole in my life and that she understood I didn’t want another relationship, but I should consider how to fill that hole.
‘Honestly,’ I told her. ‘Apart from keeping the house going, I have no idea.’
I got tearful and she apologised for upsetting me. ‘You need time, a little structure and some self-care,’ she said. ‘That’s all. Keep coming to class and I can help with the structure and the self-care and time will take care of itself.’
I felt strange after we’d parted, as if something big had happened or some shift had occurred inside me. It made me think about the so-called ‘friends’ I had previously, the women who haven’t stuck around to support me since Nick died. I think they only wanted to be friends when we were a couple who could fill two places at their dinner tables. Nick was so charming; he was an asset at a social gathering. I suppose I was the dull wife, not worth inviting on her own. Perhaps as a widow I’m a reminder that bubbles can burst, that the worst can happen, and who needs that when you think you’re living a charmed life? Better to let me rot in the Manor.
But I mustn’t dwell or be bitter. Sasha says she senses a lot of sadness in me, but she insists she can tell I’m a good person and that she’s dying to get to know me better because I have a special quality about me. I’m not quite sure what she means by that, but it’s made me feel worthwhile for the first time in ages.
It must have showed. When I got home Kitty said it was lovely to see me looking happier. I told her about Sasha and thanked her again for encouraging me to go to yoga.
I must admit, Kitty’s an unlikely saviour, because in all the years she’s been working for us and living in the Coach House on the estate, we’ve never bonded. Our relationship was quite formal, I suppose, and sometimes I even wondered if she resented me, but now I must give her credit for getting me out of a deep funk. Life surprises you sometimes, Nick said, when he got diagnosed with cancer. That was a bad surprise. This feels like a good one.
12
SUNDAY
Nicole
The Barn’s door buzzer wakes Nicole up from a deep doze. Her cheek is sealed against the sofa’s leather seat in the living area, which is awash with a glowing late-afternoon light. She’s been dreaming of Tom. He feels present, as if he’s here with her. The buzzer sounds again. Someone is pushing it hard, holding it for a long time. They’re persistent.
She gets up too quickly and sees stars as she walks to the front door. Her hair must be a mess. She smooths it down as she walks and straightens her clothing. She glances at the clock and sees that it’s only an hour and a half since she got home from the Manor House. She didn’t mean to sleep, but she sat down on the sofa and must have been out in seconds.
‘Who is it?’ she calls through the door. She should have checked the video entry system, she realises, but who knows if it’s working, and she’s here now.
‘It’s me, Patrick.’
She opens the door, and he opens both arms. The hug lasts longer than she would like. He holds her tightly and for long enough that the scent of his aftershave becomes overpowering. She wonders when he started wearing aftershave. He says, ‘I can’t believe it.’
She pulls out of the embrace and studies him. He’s dressed very well, in expensive jeans and a nice shirt, sleeves rolled up, a good watch on his wrist. ‘You look great,’ she says, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. She’s never seen him like this before. Behind him, she notices a smart car parked in the drive, a sporty dark green Jaguar. He sees her looking.
‘I know,’ he says. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? Things have changed for me. I’ll tell you about it. But are you okay? Of course you’re not. I’m so, so sorry. What are we going to do without him?’
She can’t hold back tears and he hugs her again and this time she gives in to his tight embrace, and she feels a kind of lightness and realises how much she was dreading him turning up looking like he needed mothering, or funding. But he’s done well for himself, somehow. It’s such a relief. She can’t wait to hear about it. Tom would have been delighted.
‘Come in,’ she says.
‘Wow.’ He stands in the open-plan living area, hands on hips, taking in the building and the view. He’s been here once before when the Barn was almost finished. ‘Just, wow. I mean, he was so proud of this place. I forgot how amazing it is. You’ve done a fantastic job with the furnishings.’ He sounds as if he might tear up, and she looks away. Patrick never liked anyone to witness his vulnerability. He’s a proud man.
She takes him to the panel that is the hub for all their smart home systems. In the drawer below it she finds a small, lozenge-shaped metal pin. ‘This is for you,’ she tells Patrick. ‘It’ll allow you to get in and out of the house and access all its systems as a guest.’ She stares into the screen, and it recognises her. ‘Good,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t always work.’ She tries to navigate the menus but finds it confusing.
‘Can I help?’ Patrick asks.
‘I need to enable this, I think,’ she says. Tom always did this stuff. She has no idea.
