Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage (31 page)

Then Gaynor spent a couple of hours sitting by Mick’s side in the funeral parlour and she talked to him and relived old precious memories. She touched his face and said that she forgave him and loved him, had always loved him and would always love him. And she hoped that heaven would give them a chance to do it all again, properly, with a sofa that you could slump into next time. She promised him he could have first pick if there was a DFS in the clouds.

Chapter 66

Once again, Stel took an early lunch break, sneaking out before Ian noticed she had gone. She knew she hadn’t said a definite no to sex the previous evening, but she still felt violated. It was all going terribly wrong. She needed the massage that she had booked with Caro; but not as much as she wanted to talk to someone and ask them for help.

When she was laid face down on the massage table, Caro whistled as she started kneading her muscles.

‘There are some serious knots in this back, lady, what’s the matter with you?’

Stel looked down through the head hole and saw a tear bounce on the floor tile below.

Just tell her. This is your friend,
screamed a voice inside her.

‘I’m not sleeping too well,’ she said.

‘I’ll work some magic,’ promised Caro, spreading more warm oil onto her skin. ‘I was going to use stones, but I think you need my hands. Jesus, it’s like someone’s put cornflakes under your skin. Can you feel that crunching? You should get your man working on these for you every single night until they’re gone.’

‘Ow.’

‘Stop moaning. This will get worse before it gets better. I’m going to get my elbows in on the act in a minute.’

Caro worked on Stel’s shoulders. It was like trying to soften concrete.

‘How’s Viv doing?’ she asked. ‘Have you seen anything of her this week?’

‘She’s really busy,’ said Stel. ‘The woman she works with has had a fall so she’s taken on a lot more duties. She’s doing very long hours.’

‘You could always drive over to her, I suppose.’

‘I will, when she’s got more spare time.’

‘You must miss her.’

Like you wouldn’t believe
, thought Stel. She wouldn’t have gotten into this mess if Viv were here. But she would get out of it and Viv need never know.

Caro rotated the tip of her elbow into Stel’s shoulder blade.

‘If this doesn’t loosen you up, I’m going to use a hammer-drill,’ chuckled Caro.

Stel groaned. ‘It feels good in a sort of agonising way. I might need hospital treatment after this though.’

Caro kept the pressure on. ‘Only seems ten minutes, not ten years, since we were sitting in that waiting room in the hospital, doesn’t it, Stel? How the years fly by.’

They had been two strangers, both waiting for news of their children. Marnie had meningitis, Viv was having her most serious back operation. Both women were terrified. Both were drinking coffee on a continuous loop and ended up sitting in the hospital restaurant together. They had bonded instantly through their pain. They cried, they shared their lives, they held each other’s hands through black hours. Then, when the news became good, they both rejoiced with and for each other, clinging to each other with relief.

‘We’ve both had some shit, haven’t we, Caro?’

‘Haven’t we just. So come on, tell me then, how’s the love-life.’ Caro felt Stel’s muscles contract instantly.

‘All good,’ replied Stel. She wanted to pour everything out, share it, let someone tell her what to do.

‘Is he treating you well?’ asked Caro. ‘You’ve gone all tight again.’

‘Sorry. He took me out for a meal last night. Tarnview. It was very nice.’

‘Good. It’s about time you had someone who looked after you.’ Caro applied her elbows again. What the hell had happened to make Stel’s back as pliant as a gravestone?

Stel dared to open up a little. ‘I’d forgotten what real sex was like. You know, the cramp when you get in the wrong position, the mess. I think I’ve been watching too many romantic films.’

‘Plenty of sex then, eh?’

‘Plenty.’ Too much, Stel wanted to say. He wanted it every night. Even when she didn’t.

Cajoled.
She wasn’t even sure if it was the right word but that’s what came into her head yesterday when they were in bed. He had
cajoled
her into sex.

‘He must fancy you rotten then.’

‘He says he does.’

Caro reached for a bamboo stick. ‘Let’s see if I can roll some of that tension out. That’s lovely to hear. I’m so pleased for you, Stel.’ Caro knew how much Stel wanted to be part of a couple. A good couple, like herself and Eamonn. A couple who loved and respected and looked out for each other.

‘He wouldn’t let me look at the dessert menu last night,’ Stel blurted out. ‘He said we’d eaten enough.’

It sounded puerile when the words were spoken, so it came as little surprise when all Caro said was, ‘Cheeky sod.’

Stel tested her. ‘Would Eamonn have ever done that?’

‘He’s committed his fair share of faux pas. Men can be very clumsy,’ laughed Caro, remembering once when he forbade her from having a dessert. But then again, she had been doing the Atkins diet and had warned him before they went to the restaurant that he must, under no circumstances, allow her to cave into temptation. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t talk to him until the next morning.

Stel lay still as Caro rolled the bamboo stick around her muscles and considered her situation. She had landed a loving man who fancied her like mad, took her out – and paid for her – loved her company and wasn’t selfish in bed. He hadn’t forced himself on her last night. If she’d said no and sounded as if she really meant it, he would have left her alone.
Must be taking a bit of getting used to though, dating again
, Caro must have thought. And even wonderful, considerate Eamonn had told Caro that she shouldn’t have a dessert.
Oh Stel Blackbird, you are so stupid for worrying.
Did she want to split up and for Ian to move on to waiting-in-the-wings Meredith? No, of course not. Then she just needed to stop pressing her panic button and relax.

She felt so much happier as she left Caro’s salon, less crunched up physically and mentally lighter.
What better start for a relationship could there be than a man who was kind and nice to her?
had been the lesson for today. She walked back into the hospice with a less troubled smile on her face.

Chapter 67

‘Okay, Viv, this is the big one,’ said Heath, clapping his large square hands together. ‘Today you are going to stroke Ursula.’

‘What?’

Viv, securing the rabbit leg between the fingers of her stiff glove, looked round at him with an Elvis lip of disbelief.

‘She’ll let you. I think she trusts you enough now. Call her over.’

Viv made her ridiculous parody of a whistle. She didn’t flinch when Ursula flew to her glove and started picking at the meat.

‘Okay, try,’ said Heath.

‘I can’t,’ said Viv.

‘She needs to learn that she shouldn’t be afraid of your hands,’ explained Heath.

‘Will it hurt if she bites me?’ asked Viv, looking at Ursula’s beautiful but cross face.

‘Yes, very much,’ replied Heath.

‘You aren’t selling this to me at all,’ mumbled Viv. She looked round to see he had a twinkle in his eyes.

He likes and trusts me
, she knew. He had no idea.

‘Touch her wings, Viv. If she lets you do that, try the chest.’

Viv’s right hand made a tentative journey to the bird. Her fingers smoothed down the freckled soft feathers of her wings and Ursula allowed it without missing a beat from eating.

‘My God, look at me, Heath, I’m doing it.’ Viv reined in the shriek that was threatening to burst out of her.

Viv’s hand touched the bird’s breast.

‘That’s my girl,’ she said, her voice trembling, and Heath realised that tears were rolling down Viv’s face. He didn’t need to ask why she was crying. He knew the swell of emotion she must be feeling; it spread like a warmth in the chest and flooded outwards. He felt so proud of her. He wanted to gather her up in his arms and tell her so and would have, had he the slightest inkling that she would have wanted him to. Ursula hadn’t got it wrong, she had picked someone special to put her faith in. Viv Blackbird was lovely.

Chapter 68

Stel called in at the supermarket on the way home from work. Ian had gone back to his house to collect some more of his belongings. After the weekend they’d both be able to use his car to travel to work and save petrol, he’d said. She batted away any ridiculous suggestions that she’d have her wings clipped if that happened. She’d have to ask his permission to borrow it if she wanted to go out at lunchtimes. She didn’t consider that she wasn’t being silly and that her intuition was spot on.

She picked up an extra bottle of wine and a card because it was Al’s birthday and they always bought each other a little something. They usually shared a glass in each other’s kitchen too, but that couldn’t be the case this year. She didn’t think Ian would like that.

Ian’s car was parked up when she got home and so was Al’s bike, so she knew he was in. She left the shopping in the boot until she’d delivered his card and present. She rat-tatted on his door knocker and saw his silhouette through the frosted glass of the door. When he opened it, his face wore the same expression as the last time she’d seen him to talk to: uncharacteristically chilly.

‘All right, Stel,’ he said. There was no invitation to come in. But then he probably felt that would be inappropriate now that she was with Ian.

Stel extended her hands, with the card and the present in them, towards him.

‘Happy Birthday, Al.’

There was too much distance between them for her to give him the customary birthday kiss on the cheek. And he wasn’t making any attempt to bridge it.

‘You shouldn’t have,’ he said, accepting them with reticent politeness.

He’s never said that before
, thought Stel.

‘Well, it’s your birthday. I always get you a bit of something.’ She smiled, wondering why he was acting so oddly with her.

Al’s head cocked towards her door. ‘I see he’s moved in then.’

‘Well, it’s a trial run,’ Stel said, relieved that he was at least conversing with her.

‘Bit quick.’ Al’s expression remained impassive.

‘Well, we’re not getting any younger,’ she said with an awkward laugh.

He looked down at the card and the bottle. ‘Thanks anyway,’ he said and stepped back inside to close the door. Stel instinctively put her hand flat on the glass to stop it.

‘Al, what’s up? Have I upset you in some way?’

An expression of gobsmacked disbelief took over his features. ‘After all these years, Stel and . . .’ He broke off what he was going to say. ‘Forget it, just forget it. I hope you’re really happy.’

And with that he shut the door firmly in her face.

Stel stared at it as if she expected it to open again and for Al to appear and tell her what was going on, but instead it was her own door that opened and Ian appeared.

‘What are you doing, Stelly?’ He didn’t look amused.

‘I was just giving Al a birthday card. I’ll go and get the shopping in.’

‘I’ll get it,’ he said. ‘You make a start on tea.’

Stel stepped over the low fence separating her garden from Al’s and she walked into a house that she barely recognised. There were cardboard boxes everywhere, black bin liners and battered suitcases. There were old electrical appliances covered in dust that looked as if they had been dragged out of a loft after being stored there for years, a stained ironing board, five pairs of big boots, a stack of sheets and towels and a cheap-looking quilt covered with blooms of stains.

‘Don’t panic,’ said Ian, carrying in the Tesco bags. ‘I’m going to car boot a lot of this stuff but for now I’ll store it in the spare bedroom.’

Stel bristled with annoyance. ‘You mean Viv’s room,’ she said, making the point that she didn’t have a spare room. There was Viv’s bedroom across the landing and Viv’s workroom in the attic. And that’s how it would be until she said she didn’t want them any more.

‘It
was
Viv’s room,’ said Ian. ‘I’m going to need it now, unless you want to live like this forever.’ He put the shopping bags down on the kitchen floor and pulled out the packet of slow-braised beef. ‘We’ll have this tonight,’ he said and tossed it across to Stel.

*

Geraldine insisted on making everyone a simple tea. Oven chips, tinned peas, fried eggs and hunks of doughy white bread and they opened up a bottle of Selwyn Stanbury’s parsnip wine which was as sweet as the afternoon had been, and strong enough to take the edges off the reality of their situation. Pilot sat at Heath’s feet as they ate and laughed and talked at the table, Bub was curled up on the sofa imitating a furry black cushion, Piccolo sat with his eyes closed in his cage, balancing contentedly on one leg and Jason Statham was safe from harm in his hutch. There was such a feeling of contentment in the cottage that Geraldine’s hope that all this would come right in the end powered up again.

Goodnight and may your dreams take flight
, she whispered as she lay in bed later and blew a kiss upwards to Heath in his room and across to the folly for Viv.

Viv watched the sun melt into the sky from the downstairs window in the folly. She had been blending oils to remind her of this perfect day. The tang of her leather glove, the snuff of Ursula’s aviary, Geraldine’s perfume, soft bread and sweet wine, the ever-present love-in-a-mist, the sunshine over Wildflower Cottage – and him. It would bring his green eyes to her mind when her business was completed and she was gone. If only she were someone else who could stay.

*

In bed, Ian pulled playfully at Stel’s nightie. They’d both had wine but Stel felt far drunker than she should be. She should have some water and a couple of ibuprofen; she knew she’d have a headache in the morning otherwise.

‘What’s this, a suit of armour?’ he laughed. ‘Get it off.’

‘I’m cold,’ said Stel, making a fake shiver.
All you have to do is say no.

‘What was all that about earlier with Fat Al then?’ He was pushing up her nightie, his hands were everywhere.