by Nancy Peach
Tess arrived at the Russell estate an hour later and tucked her Fiat Punto in amongst the Audis and Range Rovers in the cordoned-off area near the stables. As she crossed the gravel, approaching from the side, she could hear the sound of voices coming from the rear garden. She felt a momentary rush of anxiety and wished that Farida had accompanied her, but she settled her nerves by remembering how insistent Madeleine had been that she attend. Her fingers gripped firmly the invitation in her handbag as if fearing that someone might stop her and ask to see identification, proof that she was not just an imposter intruding on someone else’s wake. She supposed that there might actually be people out there who would contemplate such an action, a chance to nose around a wealthy estate, pick out a couple of heirlooms to come back for later. She shuddered; the thought was unsettling.
Suddenly, from out of Tess’s range of vision, there came a shriek of laughter and a small child hurtled around the corner almost clattering into her. Tess saw a blur of blonde hair and bright-pink taffeta, and as the child whirling in circles in front of her came to a halt she realised it was Annabelle, wearing a tutu, large brown wellingtons, and a scarlet poncho. She beamed up at Tess and clapped her hands.
“It’s Dr Tessie!” she cried in delight, sliding one of her hands into Tess’s and guiding her round to the back of the house and the gardens. The sun was still relatively high in the sky, despite it now being late afternoon. The terrace was bathed in light and teeming with guests, all balancing wine glasses and tiny plates of sandwiches in their hands, lifting them occasionally to avoid impeding the progress of a small child or large dog tearing across the flagstones. The laughter and chinking of glasses gave the event an air of a garden party or wedding breakfast, and it was only the sombre clothing that provided any indication as to the true nature of the occasion. Annabelle continued to grip Tess’s hand tightly as she steered her through the crowd until at last she found Harvey, sitting next to a large stone urn examining pebbles. She presented her trophy and was gratified by Harvey’s smile.
“Hello Dr Tess! It’s very nice to see you. How is your ginger cat?”
He was so endearingly serious. Tess crouched down as low as modesty would allow in her dress and looked him straight in the eye.
“Marvellous, thank you Harvey,” she said, “but certainly all the better for having your picture on the wall. I stuck it up with tape next to his bed and he looks at it every day.”
Harvey smiled shyly and his cheeks went pink. He showed Tess one of the stones he had been looking at.
“See?” he pointed to a crenulation in the surface. “I think it might be a dinosaur.”
Tess was just about to reply when she became aware of a presence behind her. She was still crouched down and almost lost her balance when she turned to see Edward looming tall over her. He held out a hand to help her up and she wobbled to an upright position.
“Whoops!” Her laugh was a fraction more hysterical than she would have liked.
“Whoops indeed. How lovely to see you, Dr Carter.”
Tess realised that the last time they had been in this close proximity she had been astride him in the cabin at the hospice. Her thighs squeezed together and her mouth went dry with the memory of it, but she managed to speak.
“It’s Tess, please, not Dr Carter today. I’m not here in a medical capacity. Well, I mean, I am, if there’s an accident or something, I can help out. Um, and clearly I’m here because I was your mum’s doctor, so I guess—”
“Tess,” he interrupted her. “Of course.”
“Doc-tor Tes-sie!” sang Annabelle as she skipped off into the crowd to find one of the dogs.
Edward looked fondly after her. “They’ve been an absolute godsend,” he said, taking Tess by the elbow and steering her away from the garden towards the house, seemingly unaware of the effect the simple contact of him was having on her.
“I don’t know what we would have done without them. There’s nothing quite like having to discuss the merits of various breakfast cereals, or dig for worms, or explain that wellingtons and a tutu aren’t necessarily appropriate for a funeral, to take your mind off bereavement.” He gestured towards Annabelle. “As you can see, we lost the last argument. She’s a law unto herself in the fashion stakes.”
“I hear you’re heading back to America with them next week?” Tess asked as casually as she could manage, although her heart was hammering in her chest.
He looked at her for a beat or two. His hand was still on her arm and the pressure of his fingers increased a fraction before he nodded.
“Yes. Madeleine suggested it and the idea seemed sensible at the time, although now that it feels a bit more imminent I’m not so sure…’ His blue eyes were fixed on her and he chewed his bottom lip in the way she had seen him do many times before.
They were nearing a set of large French doors that opened out from a beautiful drawing room and he stopped just on the threshold and turned to look back out over the terrace.
“Look, there are heaps of people here that I still need to speak to and I’m sure they’d all like to meet you too. Most of them will have heard Mum talk about you and the others – well, you know how the older generation love to chat to a doctor. Do you mind if I commandeer your social skills for a while, to make up for my own deficiencies? I’m starting to run out of things to say to everyone.”
“Oh! Well, that would be fine, I suppose. I’m not sure my social skills are worth, um, commandeering but I should be able to manage a bit of small talk. Lead the way.”
He had remained lightly holding onto her arm throughout, and now moved her towards one of the smaller crowds gathered within the drawing room, pausing next to a large sideboard to pour her a drink. “Just a half glass please,” she said, watching the liquid rise up inside the crystal. “I’m driving.”
“Of course,” he said and then hesitated, eyeing her curiously. “Do you think you might be able to stay a little later? Until the other guests have gone? I think we need to talk.”
His eyes were unreadable but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. She dragged her gaze away from his face, thinking of how those lips had felt pressed hard against hers and imagining them moving across hers now. Her mouth went dry again and she took a quick sip of the wine, feeling the tingle of it on her tongue.
“Sure, I can stay for a bit.”
They made their way around the room, greeting guests and sharing stories about Mary. Tess recounted some of the conversations they’d had over the months; she talked about how much Mary had enjoyed the walks in the hospice grounds, how kind she had been to the staff, and how her room had been filled with pictures of her family. She often referenced Edward, who was standing beside her throughout, sometimes offering up additional comments but mainly just watching her, entertained by her easy familiarity with complete strangers.
“This has certainly got a lot more enjoyable since you arrived,” he murmured as they moved between groups.
Occasionally he touched her, brushing his fingers against her wrist as he took her empty glass, slipping his hand to her waist in order to edge her past a couple who were leaving, and the reminder of his physical proximity made Tess tremble.
When they had spoken to everyone in the vast room, they made their way back towards the terrace and Tess excused herself to go and find the bathroom, more to have a moment to herself than anything else. The children were sitting on the floor in the main hallway surrounded by a huddle of exhausted dogs, who wagged their tails in unison at her approach.
She crouched to pet them, “Oh, it’s a hot day to be a dog, isn’t it?” she said as she scratched one behind his ears. Annabelle was lying next to her making angel shapes on the cool tiled floor and Harvey was focussed on building a tower out of his stones.
“They miss Granny. That’s why they’re sleepy. They feel a bit sad.”
“Hmmm. You’re probably right, Harvey. Lucky they’ve got you guys around, hey?”
He smiled but then frowned ag
ain. “But we’re going home soon,” he said, “and then they’ll be lonely.”
A clipped Scottish voice echoed out from the kitchen: “They won’t be lonely, my darlings. They’ll still have me to pester, won’t they?” A short woman holding a tea towel emerged through the doorway, extending a hand in greeting to Tess who introduced herself.
“Oh! The doctor.” She took Tess’s hand in a firm grip. “I’m Pauline. I was hoping to meet you; I wanted to say thank you for all that you lovely people at the hospice did for Mary – I know she felt very well looked after there.”
Pauline had known the family for years and she had often driven Mary to her appointments in those early months before anyone else knew the diagnosis. It was clear that they had been very close and she was affected a great deal by her loss.
“I’ve kept myself tucked away in the kitchen for most of the day, to be honest.”
“Oh, okay. I can imagine it’s less manic in there?”
“Absolutely. I couldn’t face lots of chatter. Much prefer being surrounded by sandwiches than people, but I do feel a bit bad about landing it all on wee Eddie and Maddie; they’ve been through so much, poor lambs. I think a good trip away will do Eddie the world of good, but it’s certainly going to feel a bit empty here, come next week.”
She looked down at the children. “You’d better phone your Auntie Pauline now and then, so I can tell you what these hounds have been up to.”
She turned her attention back to Tess. “Now, would you like a quick cup of tea, doctor? You could come and have a quiet sit down with me?”
Tess welcomed the opportunity to return to the less formal surroundings of the kitchen, where Pauline poured her a mug of, admittedly, stewed tea. She smiled as she remembered Edward’s comments when she’d last been in this room, only a few weeks ago. It felt like an eternity. Pauline was a woman of few words, but seemed to expect few in return, and Tess found the silence comfortable, closing her eyes at one point and leaning back in her chair. This was where Edward found her moments later. He pulled up a chair beside her.
“That’s what I need to do,” he said, bringing his elbows to the table and yawning expansively. Pauline pinched him fondly on the cheek.
“You’re exhausted, wee boy. Why don’t you take this lovely girl for a walk around the garden now it’s cooling down a bit? I’m sure you’ve done as much socialising as would be expected, and probably a good deal more than you’re comfortable with. A bit of fresh air is what you need.”
Edward looked across at Tess, his eyebrows raised in a question and she nodded, following him through the rear kitchen door back to the south terrace where the guests were dispersing. They walked out across the lawns towards a wrought-iron gate set into a high boundary wall to the left side of the property. Once through, Tess could see that they were now in a walled garden with raised beds and a sheltered pergola at the far end. It was here they headed, their feet crunching across the pea shingle that ran between the borders. Edward took a sidelong glance over to Tess, smiling at her reaction. “It’s nice, isn’t it? Peaceful. Mum loved it in here.”
They sat on a stone bench under the cover of a climbing rose and he told her about those last few days before Mary died. How Pauline had gathered flowers from this garden and placed them in vases all around Mary’s room to fill it with scent and colour, how the windows had been opened to their full extent to allow the noise and air from the grounds to filter in. That the hospice nurses had sat with them, explaining what would happen as the end approached, the flickering in and out of consciousness, the rare moments of clarity when she told them she loved them, that she was proud, that they had been the best children a mother could ask for.
“It was, okay, I suppose. We were prepared and so was she. It’s funny, I had anticipated it being a shock, but of course, it’s not shocking at all. Dying, I mean.” He looked over at Tess.
“No,” she agreed, stretching out her legs in the sun. “It shouldn’t be a shock to any of us. It’s one of the only certainties in life, and we all avoid talking or thinking about it, so it becomes frightening.” She turned towards him. “From what I’ve seen, most of the deaths in the hospice have been peaceful and comfortable, often a release.
“Of course,” she looked away, “you were right, that evening, when you said that I didn’t know how it felt. I don’t. I’ve seen death, and I lost my gran a few years ago, but the thought of losing a parent…” She considered the absence of her mother, the future rolling bleakly out in front of her without the comfort and reassurance of that familiar face and warm, maternal solidity. Her voice tightened. “Well, I can’t imagine. As you said, no number of lectures on empathy will change that, and you were right to pull me up on it.”
He put a hand out to her cheek, turning her face back towards his and looking straight at her. “I wasn’t right to do that. Not right at all. I was in a state, I didn’t know what I was saying, and you were only trying to help.”
His hand remained on her cheek for a few moments, the warmth of it comforting, and she thought he might lean in to kiss her. Much as she wanted him to, she felt that there was still a lot more to say, and he seemed to share her view, because he broke eye contact and moved his hand away, stretching his arm out behind her to rest on the back of the bench. Still, she was aware throughout their remaining conversation that his body was close to hers, the crook of his elbow lying just behind her neck, his fingers almost brushing her shoulder. The position was protective but casual, as if he could pull her into an embrace at any moment, but might also choose not to.
They talked for a while longer, discussing the house and what would happen to it when they left for America on Monday. Tess tried to hide her own feelings regarding his imminent departure. She knew he needed a break, and that he was addressing this in the most practical way that he could, so she found herself saying things like, “Hmm, seems sensible,” and, “What about the dogs?” and, “Do you have a burglar alarm?” when really all she could concentrate on was the feeling of a chasm opening up beneath her as he detailed the steps the family had taken to ensure their absence would be managed. In the short-term, Pauline and the gardener could take care of the day-to-day running of the estate, just as they had been to all intents and purposes for the past year whilst Mary had been unwell, but there were issues regarding what would become of it in the future.
“It’s difficult to know what to do,” he said. “This place has been in the family for generations, but there’s no way Maddie will be living here; her home is in America for the foreseeable future. I’ve got my flat in London – that’ll be easy enough to rent out – but I just don’t know how long I’m going to be away for. I suspect it might be some time.”
“What are you going to do about work?”
“Oh, they’ve been great. I guess putting in all the hard graft over the past few years has bought me a bit of leeway. They’re happy for me to take an extended sabbatical and there’s always the potential to work in one of their American offices, if I decided to stay.”
“Oh.” Her voice was a little wobblier than she had intended. “And do you think you might stay? Do you think you might”—she shifted her position—“emigrate?”
He looked at her closely. “I just don’t know,” he said. He seemed to realise that she was asking about more than his career intentions, but the topic of work was a safer one to address at the moment. “It’s a possibility. If I want to continue in the same field, I can certainly transfer there easily. Or I might decide I want to do something entirely different with my life.”
“Yes? Like what?” Honestly, she could kick herself. What did she think he was going to say? I might decide I want to do something entirely different with my life, like staying here with my burden of grief, waving goodbye to what’s left of my family as they head off across the Atlantic and making a go of a relationship based on an extraordinarily volatile set of circumstances with a completely unprofessional nymphomaniac?
Unsurprisingly, Ed
ward did not say this. “I’m not sure,” he said instead. “It’s a dreadful cliché but what happened with Mum, and to a lesser extent my dad, I suppose, it does really make you think life is too short to be spending it doing something you don’t enjoy. Being in the wrong job, being with the wrong person, it’s just wasting time. And that time, as everyone always says, is really precious.”
He stretched his long legs out in front of him, focussing his attention on his feet.
“I look at Harvey and Annabelle; they’ve changed so much even in the past year, and I don’t want to miss all of that – I don’t want to be the distant English uncle, like something out of a Dickens novel. They and Maddie are my only family now.”
“Yes.” She nodded a little sadly to herself. “I get that.”
“I’ve got to make sure I don’t just keep on making the same mistakes.” He scuffed at the gravel with his shoe. “My father was a case in point; he thought success was all about financial gain and professional recognition. I don’t want to be like that.”
“Okay.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s nice for people to think you’re doing well in your job, to think of you as a high-flyer, and there are aspects of my work that are really rewarding.” He turned to Tess. “But I think at the start of my career, the cut and thrust of it was somehow more exciting, whereas now, the constant adrenaline, it’s stressful. Maybe I’m getting too old for it.” He smiled and looked back out over the garden to the tops of the trees, deep in thought. “I wonder if I’d rather do something less financially orientated and go back to practising law in a more meaningful sense, maybe some pro bono work, or perhaps something that allowed me a better balance in my life – it’s not like I do anything good, is it? Not like you. People aren’t going to think back and say, ‘Ah yes, Edward Russell, he really made a difference, he really got us out of that financial loophole using his precise understanding of the current legislation – what a hero’, are they?”
“And do you want to be a hero?”
