Uncle Padraig let go of her and with an arm round Fergus ushered him to a corner for a private chat. She noticed Fergus gently reposition his uncle in front of him so he could lip-read and ask him to repeat what he’d said.
Carly didn’t want to look like she was eavesdropping so she turned away and then had a nasty surprise when she realized how close she was to the open coffin. She took an involuntary sharp intake of breath but steadied herself.
Granny was laid out in a simple dress and cardigan and looked just like she was asleep although as Carly cast her eyes towards Granny’s feet she had to stifle a chuckle. Granny was wearing rather fetching bootee-style slippers. Carly was fighting hard to control the giggles that were starting deep inside her. She was desperate to drag Fergus over but he was still deep in muffled conversation. There was lots of backslapping from the men and they joined her at the coffin.
‘Ahh, she’s sleeping peacefully now. Bless her,’ said Padraig as he put his arms round Fergus and Carly. ‘Now, will you do me a wee favour and translate to me laddo here?’ he asked Carly.
‘Of course.’ Carly faced him but now he was fiddling with his phone.
‘Hang on … just a minute there,’ he said slowly as he scrolled up and down the phone’s screen.
Fergus took Carly’s fingers in his and held them with the lightest of touches, and when she looked at him he was smiling. She squeezed his hand. It was an odd place to have a moment, but a moment it was. They could have been anywhere; it was just the two of them acknowledging the other one’s closeness.
‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ whispered Fergus.
‘And me,’ signed Carly, with her free hand. Fergus’s fingers tightened their grip and Carly felt something ping deep inside. This was what she wanted; she wanted to feel that closeness between them that she had feared was slipping away. Fergus turned his head to look at Granny and, mirroring him, Carly did too.
Suddenly Granny’s voice echoed around the sparsely furnished room. ‘Can you hear me?’ she said. Carly gripped Fergus’s hand and he looked at her with the same relaxed smile because he couldn’t hear it. Carly shot a look at Granny. ‘Now that you’re here I wanted to say a few words …’ Granny’s lips were definitely not moving and Carly was sure she’d never been a ventriloquist.
‘Are you not going to be telling him what she’s after saying?’ Uncle Padraig was looking mildly irritated as he waved his phone. Carly opened her mouth and then closed it again because she was feeling a little queasy, but she managed a nod. Padraig rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll start it again then,’ he said, as he fiddled once more with his phone. Carly let out a deep sigh and tapped Fergus’s arm so he was ready to read what she signed.
Thankfully it was a short message that Granny had recorded a few months ago, at her birthday gathering, saying what a good life she’d had and how proud she was of all of her family. She finished with an odd sentence. ‘… and remember: it’s easy to halve the potato where there’s love.’ Carly knew she was frowning but she couldn’t help it. What was the woman talking about?
Fergus started to laugh and Padraig joined in. ‘I’ll leave you to your prayers,’ said Padraig, his face abruptly becoming sombre. He patted Fergus on the shoulder and left the room. Fergus stood for a while with his head bent and his eyes closed and Carly did the same until she’d run out of things to pray for. She had another look at Granny in her bootee slippers and it made her smile. Maybe that was the idea? You never knew with the Irish, they were always up for the craic.
The Irish seemed to have a good balance when it came to death, thought Carly. The funeral was a long drawn-out and sad affair, as funerals often are, where many cried and a few wailed, which took Carly by surprise at first but a steadying hand and a few words about Irish traditions from Cormac had her understanding it all a little better. Once that was over it was all about celebrating Granny’s life, all the things she had done and achieved. And while it wasn’t the most adventurous or high-achieving existence, everyone had high praise for her as a mother, grandmother, friend and neighbour, and to the people who knew her best that was what really counted.
Carly managed to lure Fergus away from a riotous drinking game.
‘It’s noisy in there, are you okay?’
He shrugged. ‘They’re all family, they know about my deafness and that it makes no difference to who I am.’
‘Doesn’t stop it being noisy?’ said Carly.
‘No, but it does stop it bothering me.’ He put his arm round her shoulder, pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.
‘I saw you signing with that lady in the navy dress earlier. That was nice.’
‘No, it wasn’t,’ laughed Fergus. ‘Mary is something like me mam’s third cousin twice removed and she learned to sign years ago when her donkey went deaf.’
‘What?’ said Carly, starting to laugh.
‘Well, she thinks she knows some sign language but I think she’s making half of the signs up so it was either her donkey or her neighbour that she signed and I’d like to imagine it was the former!’
When their laughter had dwindled Carly remembered something she wanted to ask. ‘What did Granny mean about the halving of a potato?’ she asked. She had been puzzling over it ever since.
‘It’s easy to halve the potato where there’s love,’ repeated Fergus. ‘It’s an old Irish proverb …’ Carly started to snigger. ‘It is! And it means that if you’re surrounded by love then however little you have it’s easier to share it.’
Carly stopped sniggering. ‘That’s actually quite sweet.’
‘I know,’ said Fergus emphatically and he kissed her softly.
The lady in the navy dress approached and signed to them both that there was ‘chicken cake’ if they’d like some. Fergus started to giggle as Carly kindly signed back that they would love some ‘lemon cake’ although she used the correct sign for ‘lemon’. Confusing the two was an easy mistake for a novice signer to make.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Petra was being attentive during Beth’s lunchtime shift and she figured that she must have spoken to Jack. When it was time to go, Beth was zipping up her coat when Petra came over to her. ‘Are you sure you are okay? I am a little worried,’ she said.
‘I’m fine, honest.’
‘Good. Then I won’t ask again. What is the next project at the cottage?’
‘Oh, decorating mainly but at some stage I need to tackle the stairs. They are missing a few spindles and that sort of craftsmanship is expensive so I’m not sure what I’ll do with them. But I’ll think of something.’
‘What about a night class? They do them at the college. I can have Leo and you can borrow my moped. All you need to do now is find one that gives you these skills. Okay?’
It made Beth smile at how quickly Petra seemed to solve her problem. ‘Okay, I’ll look into it.’
‘Good, you must do this.’ Petra squeezed her arm for emphasis. Beth couldn’t help but be touched by her support. The feeling that someone local had become a friend and was keen to offer suggestions to help her achieve her goal was heartwarming and despite everything else that was going on it made her feel calm.
Back at the cottage over a well-earned cup of tea Beth found herself searching the internet on her phone for carpentry courses. By the time she had reached the bottom of her mug she had found a local wood-turning course that ran one evening a week and was suitable for beginners. There was even a possibility that she was eligible for the concessionary price. Beth decided to join Petra on the school pick-up run to check that she really did mean it about the pink moped. Beth hadn’t ridden since university but her motorbike licence was still good and Petra said she’d let her know about insurance costs.
Beth and Petra were chatting as they passed Jack’s cottage and heard Doris’s plaintive whines and barks. Beth felt a twinge of guilt. Leo unexpectedly shoved his mother in the ribs. ‘That’s your fault, she’s shut in a cage! You’ve made her sad and I hate you!’ he sho
uted before running off. Petra looked sympathetic but Beth didn’t have time to comment as Leo was running at full pelt towards the road. He stopped as he reached the edge of the pavement, giving Beth time to catch up with him and escort him across.
‘Leo, we don’t push people around however cross we get.’
‘I don’t care!’ he shouted and he ran off once more, this time across the green towards the cottage. Beth rubbed her side. He had pushed into her with some force but it wasn’t that that was hurting. It was the fact that he thought it was acceptable to treat his mother that way. One more thing to loathe Nick for, she thought. She hated to see Leo upset like this; he and Doris were unfortunate victims of her self-imposed ban on Jack. She knew she was doing the right thing; she had to protect Leo, but that didn’t stop her feeling guilty for being the cause of his distress, and for that matter Doris’s.
In between arguments with Leo, Beth managed to make a phone call to the college and enrol herself on the wood-turning course. It was a brief interlude in an otherwise dreadful evening where Leo stropped about ignoring his mother while she repeatedly explained to him the importance of respecting other people.
Breakfast was frosty both inside the cottage and out. Leo’s jaw was rigid as he glowered at his porridge. Beth couldn’t help but worry about what else Leo had vicariously picked up from their time with Nick.
The walk to school was brisk, as Leo appeared keen to get away from his mother, and Denis was almost running to keep up. They were through the gates before she had a chance to say goodbye and she knew there would definitely be no backward glance from Leo today. She watched for a moment to check that he went inside and saw Jack greet Leo at the door. Leo threw himself at Jack and although the situation was awkward there was little Jack could do but let the child cling to him. All reason left Beth as she stormed across the tarmac.
‘Get away from my son!’ she said firmly in hushed tones so as not to create a scene as she tried to pull a now sobbing Leo away from Jack.
Jack put his hands up in surrender. ‘He’s upset but it’s nothing I’ve done.’
‘You fell out and now Doris is sad!’ shouted Leo as he twisted to address both the adults in turn. He rubbed roughly at his teary eyes with his coat sleeve.
‘Did we fall out?’ asked Jack.
‘Irrelevant,’ said Beth to Jack before crouching down to Leo’s level. ‘Doris is fine, isn’t she, Jack?’ Her expression willing him to reassure the child.
‘Er, oh, yeah. You know what she’s like, Leo. She sleeps most of the time.’
‘But we heard her crying yesterday,’ said Leo, his bottom lip pushed out, reminding Beth of when he was a toddler.
‘Well, yesterday was different as I was out all day but I’ll take her for a walk at lunchtime. Do you want to come?’
‘Yeah!’ squealed Leo, immediately brightening as his mother tried to control the fear and anger that was instantly coursing through her veins.
‘No, I’m sorry, Leo. You have to stay on school premises at lunchtime. Doesn’t he, Jack?’ The look that accompanied the sentence was instruction enough.
‘Oh, yeah. Silly me. No, you can’t come but I’ll tell you how she is and I promise you she’ll be fine. Okay?’
Leo nodded glumly as he pulled himself free from his mother’s grasp and sulked off into the school, dragging his rucksack behind him. The adults watched him go and Beth’s heart melted for her son. When he was out of sight, Jack ran his hand through his hair and gave a self-deprecating smile. ‘That was a bit tricky. I didn’t—’
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing hugging my child and then inviting him out of school?’ Beth felt the emotion catch in her throat and she fought hard to stay in control. The last thing she wanted to do right now was cry but the mixture of suppressed anger and unhappiness was a volatile cocktail. How had everything turned so suddenly from picture perfect to an utter nightmare?
‘Wow! Slow down with the accusations. That is not what happened and you know it.’
‘Stay away from my child or I will report you, Jack. I’m not the pushover you think I am.’
As Jack stood looking bewildered and confused in the doorway, Beth walked away, struggling to see as the hot tears blurred her vision.
Beth had a horrid day. She spent most of it replaying the scene at the school and going over and over what exactly had been said and whether she should speak to the head teacher. She had finally resolved that whatever Jack had done in the past he was now holding down a responsible job and she knew the support he provided to the school was invaluable. She decided instead to make it clear that if she had any cause to feel that Leo was threatened then she would be shouting it from the highest point in the village, which was most likely the Bleeding Bear pub sign.
She was very glad to leave a sulking Leo at the pub, don Petra’s helmet and escape to her first evening class. She took with her one of the broken stair-rail spindles so that she would have a template to make replicas, and popped this inside her coat. Beth had memorized the best route and knew that, even on the ancient moped, it should only take about twenty-five minutes to get to the adult education centre where the classes were being held.
January rain lashed at Beth for most of the journey and she felt vulnerable as a large lorry had overtaken her only leaving a narrow corridor of space between her and its thundering wheels. As she arrived at the centre a small sign pointed her into the car park and an allocated area for motorbikes. She parked the small pink moped between two large motorbikes, locked it up and jogged over to the steps that led to the entrance and provided some cover. A quick look at her watch showed that she had made good time and was a little early.
Beth was about to take off her helmet when a familiar figure came striding towards her. Her heart pounded in her chest and she found she was clenching her fists and gripping the spindle tightly. What the hell was Jack doing following her here? She started to struggle with the strap in her haste to take the helmet off quickly but even as she struggled she realized although Jack was heading towards her he was looking straight past her. She followed his gaze inside as he strode by without even a glance. Beth stood still for a moment and found she could undo the helmet strap in one easy movement if she wasn’t panicking.
Keeping her helmet on, she followed Jack inside, keeping a safe distance back, and discreetly picked up a leaflet as she went by the stand so that she could pretend to read that if he looked round. He turned a corner and then bounded up a staircase two at a time. As she reached the top of the stairs there was no sign of him and her helmet had almost completely steamed up. She stood, looking along the corridor, wondering if she should take her spying mission any further as curiosity nibbled at her conscience.
‘Oh, my word. You gave me a start!’ squealed an older lady in a very shiny blouse. She peered a bit closer at the tinted helmet. ‘Are you all right?’ she said slowly as if Beth was deranged. Beth had a quick glance down the corridor to check there was still no sign of Jack before she removed the helmet.
‘Yes, sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump. I was following someone …’
The woman gave her an old-fashioned look. Rumbled, she thought.
‘I thought they might be going to the same class. What classes are up here? IT?’ she ventured. It was most likely that Jack was running a course rather than attending one.
‘Oh, no classes on this floor, it’s all local meeting groups. What class are you here for?’
Bugger, thought Beth. ‘Wood-turning.’
The woman looked taken aback. ‘Then you need to be in the workroom outside. Come with me.’
‘Don’t I need to sign in or something?’ Beth strained a last look up the corridor as the woman put out an arm to guide her back downstairs. She gave in as her shoulders sagged and she trudged after the woman, leaving a trail of drips off her coat as she went.
The workroom was very tidy with a series of low benches on one side of the room and six workstations on the other side. Eac
h station had a wall of tools all very neatly hung up. Two men were already seated at the front bench so she went to the one behind and sat down. They stopped talking as she approached and smiled kindly at her. Beth was introducing herself as someone marched into the room, creating a draught. The larger-than-life figure put her in mind of a ginger and slightly less hairy version of Hagrid from Harry Potter. He marched to the front of the class and clapped his hands astonishingly loudly. Beth instantly wanted to clap her hands together to see if she could get the volume anywhere near close. She sat on them instead to stop herself.
‘Hello, hello, welcome, welcome. New recruits and old favourites,’ he bellowed as he waved to two more men entering the room behind her. He was a bear of a man with a voice to match. Despite his size and volume Beth found she quickly warmed to Tollek, who explained that he was originally from Norway but had fallen in love at university in Bath and had stayed, despite having his heart broken. Beth found herself doing a head tilt at the romantic story and then, noticing that nobody else looked remotely interested, she sat up a bit straighter.
As she had suspected she was the only woman in the group with five men. Her bench partner was a homemade-jumper-wearing fifty-something called Ray who made lots of notes. The first half of the lesson whizzed by as Tollek provided a brief history of the craft of wood-turning and explained his own qualifications, which included coming from a long line of woodcraft devotees in Norway. He also ran through the course syllabus and placed a lot of importance on health and safety and the rules of the workroom. Beth eyed the machinery with longing. She really wanted to have a go.
‘Enough of me. Let’s have a break for coffee and a bit of socializing and then we will acquaint ourselves with the lathe,’ said Tollek with another handclap, which Beth was sure had set off a mild case of tinnitus. Ray scuttled round the bench to join the other men and Beth found herself following behind all the way to the refectory like a lost sheep.
Escape to Willow Cottage Page 22
