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She nods. The fighting spirit seems to have deserted her.
Getting up, I feel uneasy. ‘I’ll be back to see you in a while.’
Walking away, I wonder if Paul has picked up on it, that Roxie’s life is slowly slipping away from her. I know Freya has.
By the time I drive home that night, the storm is in full swing, the clouds seemingly cracked open by streaks of magnesium-bright lightning, unleashing a summer’s worth of rain, flooding the roads, slowing what little traffic there is to a crawl.
It’s awesome though, fuelled by the heat, the full force of nature’s power on show. I think of Roxie, wondering if she’s still watching. When I left the hospice, I had a feeling it was probablythe last time I’d see her. It was what she’d said about the storm being a fucking awesome way to go, almost as though she’d made her mind up.
The following day, a very different landscape awaits me as I pull the curtains back. The farm tracks are flooded, water laying on the fields, the ground too parched to soak it up. The air smells of rain on dry earth. I breathe in the freshness that has long been missing as my phone buzzes with a text from Tilly.
I thought you’d want to know. Roxie passed.
Standing there, I’m overcome with sorrow, my head filled with thoughts of the Roxie I’ve come to know. Her sassy irreverence and fighting spirit; the denial that had, just before the end, given way to acceptance. I’ll miss her, but I wouldn’t have wished more of these days on her. When her illness had been going one way, at least now she is at peace.
I get dressed and go outside to feed the goats. As I walk across the garden, I watch a bird fly overhead, thinking of Roxie again; vibrant, unchained, free.
After last night’s storm, the ground squelches underfoot and as I look around, it’s incredible how quickly the landscape is already reacting, reviving after the rain.
The goats, too, have picked up on the change in the weather, their heat-induced lethargy giving way to an urgency as they hurtle towards me, kicking their feet up.
As I climb into the paddock and feed them, Jojo butts me before grabbing my jeans in his teeth. That’s the thing about animals – they live in the present. Yesterday gone, tomorrow unimagined, they focus on the moment. If only human beings could do the same.
Glancing towards Gertie’s to see if she’s up and about, I catch a glimpse of long hair through the trees, just before her granddaughter appears.
Her walk is languid, self-conscious, I can’t help thinking. Almost as though she knows I’m watching her.
‘Hi,’ I call out.
‘Hello.’ Her cheeks are pink as she walks towards the fence, her eyes reminding me for a moment of Gertie’s.
‘I was hoping to see your gran. Is she OK?’
‘She’s fine.’ There’s a look of surprise on the girl’s face. Suddenly she points behind him. ‘I think your goats have got out.’
‘Buggers,’ I mutter under my breath as they gallop up the garden.
Twenty minutes later, with the help of Gertie’s granddaughter, Bella and Jojo are safely under lock and key again. ‘Thank you,’ I say with feeling. ‘When they’re like this, it takes more than one person to round them up.’
‘You’re welcome.’
As she stands there, a voice calls across the garden. ‘Sienna?’
‘She still thinks I’m five.’ Sienna gives me an exasperated look. ‘Over here, Gran.’
Coming over, Gertie looks more like herself this morning. ‘Ah, Jack. I see you’ve met my granddaughter again.’
‘She’s been helping catch the goats.’ As I wink at Sienna, she blushes.
Glancing at Sienna’s leg, Gertie frowns. ‘Oh goodness. Your mother will be here soon. You’d better go and change.’
Looking down at her mud-streaked legs, Sienna flushes an even darker shade before heading reluctantly for the house.
‘She has a terrible crush, my dear,’ Gertie says under her breath once Sienna is out of earshot. ‘Helping you with the goats will only have made things worse.’ She pauses. ‘You know, thekindest thing would be for her to catch you with someone else. Someone closer to your own age – like that lovely girl who came here a little while back. What was her name?’
‘You mean Rae.’ I’m used to Gertie’s outspokenness. ‘Glad to see you looking more like yourself again,’ I say gently. ‘You had me worried for a while.’
She looks puzzled, before shaking her head. ‘I’ve had too much on my mind these last few weeks. But not to worry. It’s all sorted now.’
