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‘Are you all right, Mr Pengethley?’
‘Sorry?’
‘You were miles away.’
He shook his head. ‘I was. Sorry. Inspiration struck.’
She looked bemused. ‘Erm… good.’
‘And it’s Jago, please.’
‘Jago. Lovely name.’
‘Thank you.’ He couldn’t stop staring at her.
‘Well, must go, it’s too cold to stand around and I need to help tidy the church.’
‘Yes, it is.’Good going with the witticisms, Jago man. You’ve really knocked her out with your witty repartee.He still couldn’t move.
Merryn tugged at his arm. ‘Comeon, we need to get fish and chips. I’ve got a tummy roaring like a tumble-drier.’
Honor laughed. ‘I hope we’ll see you all at the school nativity,’ she added. ‘Merryn has a part in that too.’
‘Then we’ll be sure not to miss it,’ Jago answered, even though a primary school nativity play was the last thing he wanted to watch.
‘I’ll see you there then.’
As Honor turned and entered the church, he had the strangest sensation she was taking all that was light and good with her.
CHAPTER4
‘JOY TO THE WORLD’ – TRAD.
Thursday 2nd December
Avril yelled up the stairs. ‘I’m going out now. Be back for tea.’ She cocked an ear but heard nothing. She wasn’t sure if it was because Jago hadn’t heard – the walls of this old house were thick – or whether he had his head down working and wearing his earbuds. It was no matter, they didn’t live in each other’s pockets. Shutting the front door behind her, she walked briskly down the hill towards the harbour and headed left to Sea Spray Café. Since Merryn had taken such a liking to it, they’d been regulars. It was no hardship. The hot chocolate was wonderful and, if she or Jago didn’t fancy cooking, so was the food. As she walked, she breathed in deeply. Inhaling the cold, salty air took her straight back to her Cornish childhood. There was something deeply and instinctively soothing about being near the sea. She hadn’t realised how much she’d missed the endless rhythmic shush and roar until she’d move here. Even though it wasn’t Cornwall, it felt strangely like coming home. It blunted some of the nerves she had about what lay ahead. It was ridiculous. A year ago, she’d been a confident wife, mother and working woman, getting on with things, busy with life. Now it felt like a layer of skin had been removed. With Kenan dying, her confidence and certainty – and maybe complacency – with life had been lost. After so many years married to the same man, everything was hard-going, everything felt like a mountain to climb – only with metaphorically decreased lung capacity and a weighty rucksack on her back. She had Jago, of course, and thanked whoever it was up there who looked after them, for him daily. But she couldn’t rely on him. She refused to rely on him. He had his own life to build.
Passing a shack called Blossoms which purported to sell candy floss and another called the Ice-cream Dream advertising the finest ice cream in west Dorset, both currently closed, she headed over the open space outside the yacht club. Her stomach was churning, tears were never far away and, not for the first time, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. As her hand landed on the door, a gull swept over her, laughing. It came so close she could feel the air its wings brushed away. Its cry mocked her.
She turned to watch. It caught a thermal and its coolly-shaded grey-and-white body lifted away against the winter sky. Part of her yearned to join it. ‘I’ll show you, you stupid bloody bird,’ she muttered, her courage rising. ‘I can do this!’ A year ago, she wouldn’t have thought twice about walking into a room full of strangers. This was what they didn’t tell you about grief. The way it dissolved your old self into a formless blob and you had to build yourself back up into something different. She took a deep breath and pushed open the door, pausing for a moment to calm her breathing and imbibe the sugary scents to give her confidence. Or at least theappearanceof confidence. ‘Fake it until you make it, babe,’ Suz, her neighbour in London, used to say.
The hug took her by surprise. She was engulfed in Tracy’s trademark earthy fragrance. A larger-than-life character, with a mussed-up mop of curly pink hair, she managed the café during the day. Both Cornish-born and of similar age, an instant friendship had sparked between them. Having travelled for a few years, Tracy had not long taken over the café and was always interesting to talk to. And it was Tracy who had suggested Avril join the Knit and Natter Group who met at the café once or twice a week. As she explained, they met ostensibly to knit but there was always far more nattering going on.
‘Glad you could make it! I’ll bring a coffee over. The group are set up in the window.’ Tracy noted Avril’s anxious expression. ‘Don’t worry, maid, they’re a friendly bunch and you’re joining at the right time. They have some project or other they want to get going on. No idea what it’s all about,’ she added cheerfully. ‘And, to be honest, I don’t want to know. As long as they’re spending money in the caff I’m happy to host. Do you want me to introduce you?’
‘No. I’m a big girl.’ Avril unwound her scarf and grimaced. ‘And getting bigger thanks to Merryn’s obsession with The Codfather’s chips.’
Tracy ran a hand over her own generous curves. ‘Well, they are to die for. Folk come from miles around to eat at that chippy.’ She winked. ‘Off you go and make friends. I’ll bring you cake if you’re a good girl.’
‘No calories?’
‘None whatsoever,’ Tracy replied with a straight face. ‘And then I’ll finish up decorating the tree. Café looking festive enough, do you think?’
Avril took in the silver and blue tinsel streamers across the ceiling, the white fluffy angel fairy lights dangling across the serving counter, the yellow and blue giant gnomes on the tables, each with a fair isle sweater, bushy beard and enormous woolly hat. Then there was the enormous half-decorated Christmas tree. ‘Well, I don’t know…’
‘I know. I know. But you can’t overdo the Christmas decs, can you? I’m going full-on this year, seeing as it’s my first Christmas here and luckily Maisie the owner agrees with me. She’s over there with the group so you’ll get to meet her. One of my favourite people in town, is Maisie, and not just because she was daft enough to employ me.’ She prodded Avril. ‘Off you go. I’ll go and put some music on. Get you in the Christmas mood. It’ll be that or I’ll come at you with a sprig of mistletoe.’ Wagging a finger, she added, ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you!’
With leaden feet, Avril made her way over to the group of women at the two tables shunted together in the window. Paul McCartney singing ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ belted out of the stereo. Turning back to Tracy, she winced and the woman made an apologetic face and turned it down.
