Pastures New (32 page)

‘Ben – do you think –?’ Amy paused. Perhaps Ben was right and she should leave her dark thoughts hidden well away.

‘What?’

‘Do you think Harry is going to be okay?’

Ben put the plates down and went over to Amy and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Honestly?’ he said. ‘I’d be lying if I said he would.’

‘Oh.’ Amy’s voice sounded unnatural to her. She had known that Ben wouldn’t try to flannel her. ‘I was hoping you’d say there’d be a miracle, and Harry will make a full recovery.’

Ben looked at her. ‘Maybe if he was younger that would be the case. But Harry is old, and his body is beginning to pack up. He knows it. And we know it. He might pull round from this, as he is very strong, but sooner or later he won’t get better. That’s just the way it is.’ He kissed the top of her head softly. ‘But hey, let’s not worry about things before they happen, eh? Harry’s a tough cookie. He might well surprise us all yet.’

Amy gave him a wan smile. ‘I hope you’re right,’ she said.

‘So do I,’ Ben agreed. ‘Now, come on, I say it’s time you left the kitchen and joined the party.’

But afterwards, when everyone had gone home and he’d stayed behind to check things through with the carers and make sure Amy got a break for once, Ben wasn’t so sure. Harry seemed weak, the party having taken a lot out of him.

‘I’m too old,’ he grumbled to Ben, as the carers tucked him up in bed. ‘I’ve lived too long, you know. I shan’t be sorry to go.’

‘We will be,’ was Ben’s firm response. ‘So do shut up and concentrate on getting better.’

Harry half-glared at him over the bedcovers. ‘If you are ever unfortunate enough to reach this grand old age, you’ll understand.’

Ben laughed. ‘That’s more like it,’ he said. ‘Now, is there anything else you need?’

‘I’m fine, old boy,’ said Harry. ‘Everyone makes too much fuss.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then,’ said Ben, heading for the door.

‘There is one thing you can do for me,’ Harry announced suddenly.

‘Oh, what’s that?’ Ben turned, expecting a demand for a whisky, then in the half-light he caught Harry smiling a secretive smile.

‘Whatever happens, make sure you do the right thing by Amy,’ said Harry. ‘I’d like to die knowing you two are getting hitched.’

‘Harry, you’re worse than an old woman,’ said Ben, and let himself out laughing.

‘Gerry, you’re home early,’ said Saffron. She wasn’t at all sure she could say that with pleasure, but she supposed any adult company was better than none.

‘I’ve got something to celebrate, sweetheart,’ said Gerry, waving a bottle of champagne at her. ‘I thought we could sit down to a takeaway and share this together, just the two of us. It will be like the good old days.’

‘Apart from the fact that we are no longer married, you’re staying at my and my new husband’s house, and we both think it’s time you moved out, yes, it is just like the good old days,’ said Saffron.

‘Oh.’ Gerry looked deflated. She wished he wouldn’t do that. For so many years he had had the power to hurt her, and now the tables had turned and she wasn’t altogether sure that she liked having this ability to pull the wind out from under his sails so easily. It made her feel uneasy to have him so dependent on her.

‘What are we celebrating anyway?’ she changed the subject.

‘You remember that contract I had?’

‘What, the one for the product no one wanted?’

‘The very same.’

‘What about it?’ Saffron asked.

‘Well, turns out the company I’m dealing with aren’t interested. But their parent company is. And they have
offices worldwide. So, my darling, my money worries are over. It’s official: this time next year I’m going to be a millionaire.’

‘Watch out, Del Boy,’ said Saffron, laughing despite herself. ‘Don’t run ahead of yourself. Wait till you’ve signed on the dotted line.’

‘A-ha, but I have, and they’re giving me the first instalment right away. So I can buy that bitch out and go back home.’

‘Thank the lord,’ muttered Saffron to herself, saying aloud, ‘Well, that’s great news. And yes, it is worth celebrating. Help me put the kids to bed and we’ll open the bubbly when I get back downstairs.’

It felt strange tucking Matt and Becky in with Gerry around. Strange but weirdly comfortable. The children seemed to like it too. Particularly when Gerry actually read Matt a story. Saffron was staggered. Gerry never read them stories. She had a sudden wistful thought –
this is how it could have been
– before a squawk from Ellie reminded her that this was how it was now. And even a reformed Gerry was no match for Pete.

After a companionable curry, with the champers finished, Saffron opened a bottle of red wine. While she knew without a doubt that there was no way she would ever go back to Gerry, she felt relieved that for the first time since they had split up, they were at least getting on reasonably well. It could only be better for the children to see their parents happier in each other’s company. Just so long as he realised that there was nothing on her side but friendship …

A few glasses later, and Saffron was feeling not just
content, but soppily happy that she and Gerry were getting on so admirably.

‘Cheers,’ she said, clinking her glass at him. ‘To us and our children.’

‘To us.’ Gerry paused, then added, ‘This is cosy, isn’t it?’

Saffron sat up rubbing her head. Somehow they had migrated to the sofa. And Gerry had put ‘Lady in Red’ on. Lordy-lord. Alarm bells started ringing furiously through the alcohol-induced fug.

‘Gerry,’ she began, ‘I don’t think we’d better get too comfortable …’

‘I’ve been a bloody fool, you know,’ said Gerry. ‘I should never have let you go.’

‘Well, you did, and I forgive you, and it’s history.’ The alarm bells were reaching ear-splitting proportions.

‘Saffron, I think I still love you.’ Gerry leaned across her.

Saffron leaned back in some alarm. ‘No, no you don’t.’

And then he kissed her.

Saffron pushed him away. ‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she said, gasping in horror.

‘I could say the very same thing.’ Pete stood framed in the doorway. ‘But I think it’s quite obvious, don’t you?’

Amy turned her key in the door at Harry’s house. She and Saffron were taking turns to pop in on him. The carers would come in the morning to get him up, and in the evening to put him to bed. He was exceptionally grumpy about the whole thing. ‘It’s come to something, hasn’t it, when I can’t even shave myself,’ he would grumble, but it was very clear to everyone, despite his moans, that he couldn’t really manage alone. Sometimes when Amy came in, he was confused and didn’t know who she was, and he spent more and more of his time dozing in his chair. Ben was beginning to make noises about Harry going into a home.

‘Oh, Ben, you don’t really think that will happen, do you?’ Amy had been horrified the first time he’d mentioned it. ‘He’d hate it.’

‘I know he would,’ Ben had replied, ‘but he’s not really coping. And you can’t keep popping round indefinitely.’

‘I’ll pop round for as long as he needs me,’ she’d declared.

‘Amy, you’re wearing yourself out, you can’t go on like this.’

‘Leave it, Ben,’ Amy had snapped, and then regretted it.

She sighed. She’d had that conversation several weeks ago, and hadn’t anticipated what the sheer strain of looking after Harry would have involved. She was tired all the time, tetchy with Josh, distracted when she was working, tense with Ben. But she couldn’t envisage doing anything else. Harry had been there for her from the moment she had met him, and she wasn’t going to let him down now.

‘Harry, it’s me,’ she called. ‘Do you fancy a cup of tea?’

There was no reply. Mind you, he could be a bit deaf sometimes, and she could hear the TV blaring away.

Amy pushed the lounge door open. Harry was sitting in his favourite chair, his back to her. He mustn’t have heard her.

‘Harry? Are you awake? It’s me, Amy.’

Still no reply. A solid clutch of fear crawled over her.

‘Harry,’ she said again, in some alarm.

She moved towards the chair and shook him. He didn’t move, and his skin felt cold to the touch. An icy dread washed right through her. His face was pallid, a strange ivory-yellow colour.

Harry was dead
. The thought hit her like a thunderbolt. The only dead body she had ever seen was Jamie’s, and that had been in the morgue, and quite different, but she knew instantly that Harry had gone.

Not wanting to believe it, she shook him. ‘Harry,
Harry,’ she said more urgently. But there was no response. Frantically, Amy looked for a pulse, but she was all fingers and thumbs, and she couldn’t find one. Was it because there wasn’t one there? Or because she was missing it in her panic? After several minutes she forced herself to calm down. There was no pulse, and she wasn’t going to find one. Because Harry was dead. And nothing she could do could bring him back.

Mechanically she phoned for an ambulance. Then she phoned Ben. She sat down opposite Harry, cradling the receiver. There was nothing more to be done.

She was still sitting in the same position when Ben found her. He quickly checked Harry over, and then shook his head.

‘Amy, I’m sorry,’ he said, softly kissing her on the head, and taking her hand in his. She appreciated the gesture, a moment of kindness, a connection with the physical world as her emotional world fell apart.

For the second time in her life, she had lost someone she held dear, and suddenly all the feelings she had tried to control for the last few years were pouring out of her like a dam. She started to cry, whether for Harry or Jamie she didn’t know. All she knew was that the sense of loss and desolation was overwhelming, and although Ben held her close to him, he couldn’t help her at all.

‘Amy, I came as soon as I heard.’ Saffron puffed up the path, the children in tow. The news of Harry’s death
was spreading like wildfire round the allotments. It was a lousy end to a lousy week. Despite Gerry’s apology, and her denials, Pete had barely spoken to her for days. Even Gerry had worked out that his presence was an intrusion and had moved into the motel.

‘I really am sorry, sweetheart,’ he’d said as he left. ‘I got a bit carried away. Hope I haven’t put the cat among the pigeons.’

Saffron had retorted angrily that she was not
his
‘sweetheart’ and shoved him away. It was too little too late. Had he shown an ounce of sensitivity when they were married, perhaps they might still be together. But that would have meant no Pete and no Ellie. And, thanks to Gerry’s newfound sensitivity, she might not have Pete any more. Bugger him. He always had to balls things up.

In a way, thinking about Harry was a welcome distraction from her own misery. Here was a real crisis, and not one of her own making. And within minutes of getting into Amy’s house, Saffron could see she was in a bad way.

Amy sat at the kitchen table, with red eyes, staring blankly at the wall. She barely seemed to notice when Saffron offered her a cup of tea. Tears kept dripping down her cheeks, slow, silent tears that somehow seemed more dreadful than the noisy kind Saffron always managed to produce.

‘I don’t know how you do it,’ said Saffron, shoving a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits at her friend.

‘Do what?’

‘Cry without looking a mess. I always look like a
demented cow when I’ve been crying,’ said Saffron.

Amy smiled wanly, but appeared not to really be listening. Her eyes were listless and dull, and she fiddled with her cup without drinking anything.

‘I’m not hungry,’ she said, pushing the biscuits away.

‘You must eat,’ said Saffron. ‘Come on, Harry would hate to see you like this.’

‘I know,’ Amy sighed. ‘I’m sorry I’m not very good company at the moment. I know Harry was old, and I hadn’t known him for that long, but he was so good to me, and now he’s gone. I never knew my real dad, and Harry’s been like the dad I never had, and the granddad Josh didn’t have. I don’t know how we’re going to cope without him.’

‘Oh, Amy, I feel it too,’ said Saffron. ‘We’re all going to miss him.’

‘I know,’ said Amy. ‘You probably think I’m overreacting.’

‘I have no idea,’ said Saffron. ‘I’ve never lost anyone before, but I guess you take it the way you take it. The allotments won’t be the same without him.’

‘No, they won’t,’ said Amy.

‘Did Ben get my message about having the wake at ours?’

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Amy with a shiver. ‘I can’t believe this time next week we’ll be burying him.’

Saffron looked at her friend with some alarm. She looked so desolate.

‘And if there’s anything else I can do …?’

‘Thanks,’ said Amy. ‘But you can’t do anything really. I need to face this down myself. I just feel so out of
kilter. As if someone has knocked me sideways. I know I seem to be having an over-the-top reaction, but it’s brought everything back about Jamie. Why do the people we love have to leave us?’

Her eyes were brittle and bright with unshed tears. And there was a bitterness and vehemence in her voice that Saffron had never heard before.

‘That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?’ Saffron agreed. ‘I guess we can only ever fall back on clichés, to have loved and lost, and all that.’

‘The way I feel right now,’ said Amy, ‘I don’t buy that at all. If you never love, you never lose. To have loved and lost is the worst, the very worst thing of all.’

‘How’s Amy taken things?’

Ben and Pete were in the Magpie having a consolatory drink with one another, though quite who was consoling who was another matter.

‘Not well,’ said Ben. ‘It’s hit her much harder than I thought it would.’

‘Well, we’ll all miss him,’ said Pete.

‘Sure will,’ said Ben gloomily, staring into his pint. ‘So come on then, what’s been going on with you and Saffron? Surely it can’t be that bad?’

Pete had made noises on the phone that Gerry had been causing trouble, but hadn’t furnished Ben with the details.

‘So you think Saffron and Gerry have been having an affair?’ Ben looked dubious. ‘What does Saffron say?’

‘Well, she denies it,’ said Pete, ‘but of course she would.’

‘Oh come on,’ said Ben, ‘this is Gerry we’re talking about. Saffron’s got more sense. Anyway, look at the mess Caroline got me in with Amy. Amy didn’t believe me either. I think you should give Saffron the benefit of the doubt.’

‘I would,’ said Pete, ‘but there is something else. A few months ago, Saffron started going to aerobics classes on a Wednesday evening. She said she was going to the leisure centre and I didn’t think anything of it. But the more I thought about it, the more she seemed cagey about it. So I rang up and checked. And do you know what? They don’t run aerobics classes on a Wednesday.’

‘Maybe you got it wrong and she did a different class,’ suggested Ben.

‘All there is on Wednesday evenings is boxercise classes and circuit training, neither of which are Saffron’s thing,’ said Pete. ‘Besides, she suddenly stopped going, for no reason. You’ve got to admit it, Ben. It looks suspicious.’

‘Well, I’m sure there’s a simple explanation,’ said Ben. ‘Come on, drink up. I’ve got to go. I’ve a busy day tomorrow.’

As they were leaving the pub, the door was pushed open and Maddy barged her way in.

‘Oh, it’s you,’ she practically spat in Pete’s ear. ‘I’m surprised you dare to leave your missus on her own.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Pete’s response was stiff and formal.

‘You’re wet behind the ears then,’ said Maddy. ‘I know
Gerry’s been cheating on me, and I know who with.’

‘Prove it,’ said Pete. ‘Saffron would never do that to me.’

Maddy looked at him slyly. ‘And I bet you think she doesn’t lie to you either,’ she said, ‘but I know for a fact she does.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Ask her what she does on Wednesday evenings,’ was the response.

‘What?’ Pete looked like a kid who’d just had his bag of sweets stolen.

‘Ignore her,’ said Ben, pulling Pete away. ‘Ignore her, she’s just trying to cause trouble. Come on, time we went home.’

The day of Harry’s funeral was chilly and windy. Amy felt sick as she stood in the church and watched the few remnants of Harry’s family, a cousin and a couple of nieces and nephews, follow the coffin down the aisle. She felt hollow inside. For a moment she did a double take and she was back at Jamie’s funeral, experiencing that racking, devastating sense of loss all over again. Ben stood beside her, silent and grave. He squeezed her hand tightly, and she could see he was doing his best to rein in his own emotions.

Amy’s mind went blank as they sang the first hymn – ‘To Be a Pilgrim’, Harry’s favourite – and after she wobbled on the first line she stopped singing altogether. Instead she fixed her gaze on the stained-glass window
at the back of the church, as if by staring hard at it she could make this nightmare go away, make herself believe that Harry wasn’t in that coffin, that Jamie wasn’t dead, and rid herself of the feeling that everything she loved eventually turned to dust.

The vicar spoke generally about Harry’s life – Harry not having been much of a churchgoer. He wasn’t well-known in the parish, but Mavis had been, so it seemed that lots of her friends were there too. The church was packed with allotmenteers – most of whom looked uncomfortable in their Sunday best – along with Harry’s few remaining friends from his army days, and the numerous people he chatted to on his strolls around and about the town. At least they hadn’t come to a sad, lonely affair, Amy thought, as she heard the vicar say they were celebrating a life. She knew that was the way she should look at it too, but she couldn’t: her sense of loss was too extreme. And while she knew from bitter experience how selfishly lonely grief could be, she also knew she couldn’t do a damned thing to stop the way she was feeling. Harry’s best friend, a rather shaky old chap by the name of Gordon, got up and, in the true-grit spirit of a whole generation, made a beautiful speech about Harry, with humour and warmth, so for a moment Amy was able to forget her misery and remember the reasons why she had loved Harry, and relish the friendship they had shared. But it wasn’t enough to stop the tug at her heart as the coffin left the church, or the painful reminder of the last time she had followed a coffin out of a church.