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“So, what is this not-too-serious thing?” she asked once she’d made tea and cut two thick slices of Battenburg cake, sliding them onto plates and then putting one in front of John. She took a seat opposite him, keeping her tone and expression playful. “You’re getting me a bit worried now!”
“No, nothing to be worried about,” John replied after a pause. “It’s just… well, Izzy’s mother-in-law is coming to help out next week. It’s better, really, because she needs a woman’s touch, and while I’m happy to say I’ve changed my fair share of nappies, I don’t really know what I’m doing when it comes to mothers and babies and that sort of thing. I can’t advise her on sleep schedules… or, you know, breastfeeding, or anything like that.” He ducked his head, seemingly embarrassed, while Gwen absorbed the import of his words.
“No, I don’t suppose you could,” she agreed after a pause. “Although I’m sure Izzy has appreciated having you here.”As have I, she thought but decided not to say.
“So,” John said, glancing down at his plate of untouched cake, “with Sam’s mother coming soon, I’m going to be heading back home this weekend. Seems best all around, and I’d like to be back in my own bed again, pottering around my own garden, that sort of thing. I’m sure I’ll come and visit again, maybe even for Christmas, or perhaps Izzy and Sam will come to me. But, really, it’s time to get back to normal, for everyone. I’m sure you’ll be glad you have me out of your hair at last!” He let out a huff of laughter. “I’ve spent so much time here—too much time, I’m sure—in part because I felt like Izzy and Sam needed their space. It’s been good to have somewhere to go while they settle into being new parents, so I have to thank you for that.”
Gwen blinked, doing her best not to feel stung, or at least not to show it.Thatwas why he’d spent so much time with her? Simply to give Izzy and her husband somespace?
“I… see,” she said finally, although she feared she didn’t see it all, or maybe it was that she saw too well. She saw all too clearly how she’d been building castles in the air out of nothing… absolutely nothing! She’d known that on one level, or at least suspected it, but to hear it stated so plainly still hurt.
All their outings and conversations, had they really just been an… anentertainmentfor him, no more than a way to pass the time? Was she even surprised, considering how he’d admitted more than once that he was still missing Michelle?She’dbeen the one who had felt the loneliness she hadn’t even realized was inside her being so wonderfully assuaged, who had allowed silly, schoolgirl sorts of hopes to buoy her confidence, her mood. She was the one—the only one—who had dared to think something more might be going on between them, or at least might one day.
There’s no fool like an old fool.
The truth of it felt like a slap in the face, waking her up to this harsh reality.
“I’ll miss you,” John continued with an awkward, grimacing sort of smile, in the tone of someone saying a final farewell. “You’ve been such a lifesaver, Gwen, these last few weeks. Helping out here, spending time with you… it’s been…” He paused, swallowing. “Well, it’s certainly kept me busy. I’ve really enjoyed it, I can’t even tell you how much.”
Gwen forced an answering smile. Once her heart might have sung at his words, but his tone seemed to be moreit was nice, but…She didn’t have it in her to respond.
“I hope we can keep in touch,” John continued rather stiltedly. “Maybe by email? Let’s not just keep it to Christmas cards anymore, hey?” He smiled at her, shaggy eyebrows lifted in hesitant expectation.
Email? As if that wasn’t the final nail in the coffin of her fledgling hopes. He hadn’t even suggested meeting up, and he only lived an hour and a half away. It would have been the simplest thing to say he’d like to see her again, maybe meet somewhere convenient in the middle for a coffee or lunch, but no, that wasn’t even to be considered, it seemed.
“Yes, let’s email. That’s a good idea.” Gwen managed to say in a voice that she thought almost sounded normal.
“Good.” John nodded, a few too many times. “Good,” he said again, and then he picked up his slice of cake and took a bite, and Gwen did the same, even though she now had absolutely no appetite. The cake was as dry as dust in her mouth as she forced down a mouthful and John reached for his cup of tea. Things which had always seemed so wonderfully easy and relaxed between them before now felt terribly strained and awkward.
Was it all her fault? Had John sensed that her affections were becoming engaged, and decided he needed to gently put her in her place? The thought was mortifying. She was sixty-nine years old, for heaven’s sake! This sort of does-he-does-he-not dithering was surely beneath her.
And yet it seemed it wasn’t, because the truth was, Gwen felt horribly disappointed, and even hurt, by John’s gentle yet firm goodbye. It showed her just how differently they’d viewed the last few weeks.
“I suppose I should get a move on,” John said after a few moments of tense and, at least for Gwen, unhappy silence. He gave her an apologetic sort of smile. “I want to spend some more time with little Oliver before I head back home.”
“Yes, I suppose you do.”
“Yes, I’m leaving on Friday,” he explained. “So… I suppose this is goodbye for a while.”
It was only Tuesday, Gwen thought, but thankfully managed not to say out loud. She hadn’t realized John had been practicallyitchingto leave her company! At least, that was how it felt right now, as he rose from the table, reached for his coat.
“Yes, I suppose it is,” she replied in a voice that sounded overbright. “You’ve been absolutely brilliant, John, with the nativity set. Thank you for chipping in so wonderfully. We all appreciate it.”
For a second, John’s face fell, as if she’d said something hurtful, and maybe she had. She’d put a little emphasis on thewefor her own sake, Gwen knew. She felt too bruised not to attempt to claw back some of her dignity, after John had so completely and unthinkingly—or not—dismantled her frail hopes.
“Of course,” he murmured, and they stood there in the kitchen, facing each other, giving awkward sorts of smiles and no hugs. Then John buttoned his coat, nodding as he did it. “Well, then,” he said. “This is goodbye, I guess.”
“Yes, goodbye,” Gwen replied, and then, because she was surely too old to stand on stupid pride, she stepped forward and, rather clumsily, put her arms around him. “I’ll miss you, John,” she said, and to her horror, her voice choked just a little. Well, never mind. “It’s been so very lovely to see you.”
John’s arms closed around her as he drew her to him in a way that felt both painful and sweet. She’d wanted so much more than this. At last, Gwen could admit the hard truth to her own heart. She’d been halfway to falling in love with this man, she knew, and he hadn’t felt the same. Well, she told herself as she stepped back from the embrace, that was all right. She’d learned something about herself, at least, and in the meantime, she’d enjoyed his company. She’d take what blessings she could find.
“Bye, then,” John murmured, with a funny little smile, and then he was opening the door and heading down the walk to the drive, and Gwen watched him go, waving as he got in his car and drove away.
She stood there for another moment, the cold November wind blowing over her, before she slowly closed the front door.
Back in the kitchen, she tidied up the remnants of their tea—John had barely touched his cake, and neither had she—and then she simply stood there for a second, feeling rather lost. Ellie and Matthew were both out, the house was quiet, their guests due in just under a month. The emptiness reverberated all around Gwen, until she gave herself a little shake, told herself to stop acting so maudlin.
Still feeling restless, she reached for her coat and shrugged it on before heading out to the back garden. The garden looked as lovely as it could do at this time of year—the bright red berries on the holly bush, the lights strung about the trees, the winter honeysuckle and hellebore—or Christmas rose—as well as the yellow, buttercup-like aconites and purple pop of winter heather giving the normally bare patch a touch of wintry color.
