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Chapter 1
Victor
‘Look at the state of me, Mavis,’ Victor Shaw mumbled as he stood in front of the mirror in the hallway of their three-bed bungalow. He glared at his reflection, at how the light made his bald head shine and at how the white tufts above his ears stuck out like wire wool. The tufts were all that was left of his once thick, brown hair, the hair that his wife had loved to run her fingers through. His face was marked with age spots that made him think of tea stains, his forehead lined like a concertina and there were deep grooves around his mouth that made him look like he was perpetually grumpy. Which, to be fair, he was right now, but he looked cranky these days, even when he wasn’t. In his conker brown stay-pressed trousers that were held up with a fraying leather belt, his white shirt, brown cardigan and black framed glasses, he looked old. If someone googledold manon one of those artificial intelligence thingamajigs that seemed to be all the rage these days, a picture of him would pop up.
‘Grumpy, old man,’ he said, wrinkling his nose. ‘Grumpy, old, useless man.’
Looking down, he reached for the wedding photo of him and Mavis that sat on the hallway table next to the landline.He picked it up and ran a finger over the glass, touching his wife’s beautiful face. They had fallen in love when they were just nineteen (him) and eighteen (her), had married four months after their first date, and he’d been gloriously happy for their entire relationship. Well, they’d had their off days, as all couples did, but he had loved her without question and never wanted to be with anyone else. It was true that they’d been through their fair share of challenging times over the years, but he had never doubted his love for her, nor hers for him. They had never gone to sleep on an argument and never walked away from each other without a goodbye kiss. And it had worked. They had been happy all that time. Their love had endured.
He pressed a kiss to his fingertips then touched it to the glass, wishing he could kiss his wife in the flesh. She had passed away six months ago, her beautiful heart gave out one night while she was sleeping, and this would be his first Christmas without her. Quite frankly, he’d rather not be here at all to experience it. He was ready to join his beloved wife and wished that his heart would give out and take him to her.
And yet… whenever this thought came to him, he’d hear Mavis reprimanding him…
‘Pull yourself together, Victor,’ she’d say. ‘What’s the point in wasting what time you have left being miserable? Do you think I’d want that? Of course not, you old fool. I love you and want you to be happy and to live for as long as you can. Life is a gift and if you waste yours, I’ll be waiting for you at the pearly gates with a frown on my face. You mark my words.’
He knew that was what she’d say because she’d said it to him many times over the years when they’d talked about who’d go first. It was a conversation he hated but one they’d had while sorting their affairs. Not having children or relatives living locally, they’d had to face the fact that they had to ensure their estate was in order. Mavis had a niece called Donna —her brother’s only daughter, who lived in New Zealand and was well into her fifties — and she was their only relative, so when Victor passed, everything would go to her. They had spoken to her twice a year via video call and she was nice enough, had a family of her own, but they weren’t exactly close because Mavis had barely known Donna. Her brother had emigrated to New Zealand in his twenties and while they’d stayed in contact, it had been limited to emails and videocalls.
Victor put the photograph back on the table then adjusted his cardigan. It used to fit snugly around his belly but now it was baggy as an empty sack. Mavis had been the cook in their house, whipping up delicious and nutritious dinners and snacks while he had taken the traditionally masculine role of home maintenance, driving and looking after the finances. It had suited them throughout their marriage to live as they did in the traditional roles. It wasn’t that Victor hadn’t tried to help in the kitchen, he’d had a go at baking and cooking more than once, but he just didn’t have a knack for it like his wife did. And so she’d laughed him out of the kitchen and told him to go and fix things around the house while she made dinner. Unfortunately, his lack of culinary skills meant that now he was restricted to sandwiches, beans on toast and microwave meals that he bought at the local shop. They were sourced from the local farm, made with fresh ingredients and certainly tasty, but he didn’t seem to have much of an appetite anymore, so he often left at least half of the portion.
‘Right then, Mavis,’ he said reaching his coat from the peg and putting it on, along with his checked flat cap. ‘Time for my morning walk around the village. I love you, my girl.’
He coughed to clear his throat as the pain of his loss rose again and let himself out of the door and into the cold, early December air. A walk would help blow away the cobwebs; it always did. He’d walked every day with Mavis and promised herhe would continue to do so after she had gone, however low he felt.
Some promises were hard to keep, but they were promises and he’d never been one to renege on his.
Chapter 2
Leif
‘Here you go, boy,’ Leif Thorsgard said as he threw the ball again. He smiled as his dog, Magnus, chased after it. He’d adopted the large, brown mongrel a year ago from a local rescue centre and believed it was the best thing he’d ever done. A mix of what looked like a Doberman and a Golden Retriever, Magnus was his best friend, a joy to spend time with, and Leif didn’t know how he’d managed before he came along. Life wouldn’t have been as much fun as it was now, that was for certain.
Magnus caught the ball then jogged back to Leif and dropped it at his feet. Leif knew from experience that this could go on for some time. He picked up the ball and threw it again, watching as Magnus bounded after it.
Leif wasn’t working today because he usually did a four-day week with Fridays off, although he did sometimes work on Saturdays if clients needed him at the weekend. As a tree surgeon, he was quite busy, and his business had grown from word-of-mouth recommendations by clients. He enjoyed his work and the flexibility of it, especially because he could take Magnus with him. The dog usually sat in the van while Leif worked, watching through the window and waiting patiently,then wagging his tail furiously when Leif returned to the vehicle to make a fuss of him.
Leif liked the park in Wisteria Hollow where he often walked Magnus. There was a lake, a picnic area, a designated bird watching hut and plenty of grassy areas for Magnus to run around. With Magnus being such a big dog, even though he was a total softie, Leif only let him off lead when it was quiet because he didn’t want the dog knocking any small children over in his enthusiasm to greet them. It was quiet right now and so Magnus was running around freely having the time of his life. Magnus had definitely helped Leif to take each day as it came, to enjoy the moment and to nap like a professional in the afternoons. Naps with Magnus were the best Leif had ever had.
Suddenly, Magnus changed direction, and everything seemed to slow down. Leif realised too late that Magnus had spotted a squirrel, and he ran towards the dog, calling his name. Magnus was mad about squirrels and would chase them for miles if Leif didn’t stop him. Now, Magnus lolloped along after the squirrel, not seeing an old man emerging from one of the side paths and Leif watched in horror as Magnus and the old man collided.
Magnus tried to avoid the man at the last moment, but it was too late and he bounced off him then rolled sideways while the man tottered on his feet, lost his balance and dropped to the ground. He landed on a pile of leaves that seemed to cushion his landing and Leif ran towards him, hoping that he wasn’t seriously hurt.
‘Excuse me!’ he called. ‘Are you all right?’
The old man seemed dazed and so Leif crouched down next to him and peered at his face. Meanwhile, Magnus had bounced back up and wandered over to see what had happened. He stood next to Leif and wagged his tail, but Leif took hold of his collar,not wanting Magnus to treat the elderly man to a facial with his big, wet tongue.
‘Excuse me, sir, are you hurt?’ Leif asked.
The man reached up a hand and touched it to his cap then he held out his hands and looked at them. Finally, he sighed before meeting Leif’s eyes. ‘No, I’m not hurt. But I could have been. You need to keep that beast on a lead.’
Leif swallowed. ‘I’m so sorry… He usually is on a lead but there was no one around so I let him off and… He wouldn’t have run into you if he wasn’t chasing a squirrel. We are so sorry.’
The man stared at Leif, a line between his brows so deep it looked like it had been carved there with a chisel. Was he going to complain to the police? To spread stories around the village about Leif and Magnus that would make the locals look at him and Magnus with distrust? Leif had been so careful not to allow Magnus to knock any children over and had always kept him on a lead and nothing had ever gone wrong. Until now.
‘Can I help you up?’ Leif asked.
The man shifted on the pile of leaves and tried to push up but he groaned loudly then puffed out his cheeks. ‘I guess you’ll have to. My days of springing up from the ground are long gone.’
Leif stood, held out a hand and took hold of the man’s arm then wrapped his other arm around the man’s back and slowly, carefully, he helped him to stand. He waited, still holding on, not wanting to let go until the man seemed steady.
