Return to Bluebell Hill

by Rebecca Pugh

  Esme breezed into the cottage, humming a merry tune as she disappeared. Left alone, Jessica felt the old familiar feeling of being at home coming over her. Esme and her cottage were capable of that. They always had been. She closed her eyes momentarily and allowed the moment to wash over her, revelling in the sense of calm. Before following Esme inside, she freed her phone from her pocket and tapped out a quick text to Sarah.

  ‘Here now. It feels okay, not as bad I thought, although still a bit scary. Hope you’re okay. Will keep you updated. J x’

  Her phone beeped almost instantly and she smiled as she opened the message and read it, imagining the words being read aloud in Sarah’s voice.

  ‘Missing you already. You can do this, I promise. Just think of those rugged men fanning us with giant palm leaves on a tropical beach. If that doesn’t help, then I’m here whenever you need me. S x’

  Phone back in pocket, she made her way up the cobble-stones and into the cottage.

  ***

  Over a bowl of steaming beef stew later that evening, Jessica curled up in one of the two armchairs that sat beside the crackling fireplace in her pyjamas and listened to Esme as she talked about her friend Jane who had recently fallen ill. It was clear that Esme was very fond of Jane. She hadn’t stopped talking about her since they’d sat down. Jessica guessed that Esme was trying to fill the space between them with chatter, avoiding the tricky subjects.

  ‘I’ve been popping in and out, making Jane baskets full of food to eat while she recuperates,’ Esme continued. ‘She’s a very close friend of mine and such a lovely old dear, but she’s so lonely. Her husband, Rupert, passed away a couple of years ago, and since then, she’s been steadily going downhill.’ Esme frowned. ‘I think me visiting her is probably the only thing that she has to look forward to. Oh, but we do have a good old natter when we’re together and I enjoy the company myself. I’m just grateful to have a friend.’ Esme dipped a slice of bread into her stew and stared into the flickering flames in the fireplace as she ate, lost in her thoughts and memories.

  ‘She’s lucky to have you, and you her,’ Jessica commented as she finished off her own bowl of stew. It was one of the truest things she had ever said. Since she could remember, Esme had always been one of the kindest, most genuine women she’d ever met. She had a heart of a gold, arms that were made for carrying children to bed when they’d long since fallen asleep and a face that could make you spill all of your secrets. She was trustworthy and honest, too. Some of the best traits a person could have.

  ‘Did you still speak to my parents once I left?’ Jessica blurted out once the silence had stretched on for too long. She’d been dying to ask the question. She had to know, and they needed to address the subject.

  ‘I did.’ Esme nodded slowly. ‘Only very rarely, though. I popped up to Bluebell House every now and again but a lot of the time they were out at work. Sometimes I’d stroll up there and look at the house, remembering my days spent there. Thinking of you. Probably would have looked like a crazy woman if anyone had ever seen me standing there like that but I have an old, sentimental heart and it likes to return to the past sometimes.’

  ‘That night, once I’d left for London, what happened afterwards?’ Jessica sat up a little straighter and moved closer towards Esme. She was eager to hear the answer to her question. She’d always wondered about it, whenever she’d allowed herself to think about all that had happened back then. She placed her bowl onto the floor beside the armchair. ‘What did they say to you when they realised I wasn’t there? Did they want to know where I had gone? Did they seem bothered? I mean, I’d been expecting them to come and drag me right back but... I heard nothing, Esme. I gave up in the end. On hoping to hear from them, I mean. I felt stupid. I suppose I’d hoped for some attention from them for once in my life, but it was pointless for me to want that, wasn’t it? What did they say to you, Esme? Anything?’ She could hear the desperation in her voice. She didn’t like the sound of it but she couldn’t help it.

  Esme clasped her hands together in her lap as if preparing herself for the conversation. ‘When I returned from the station on the night you left, Bluebell House was empty, as it so often was. They were both still working at the hospital so I waited until gone midnight for them to return. When they eventually did, I told them that I needed to have a word in the kitchen. I explained that you’d left, and then passed on the letter that you’d written. They read it together and afterwards, they asked if I had a number to reach you on. I told them that I did, but I’d been told by you that you didn’t want to hear from them. That you were starting fresh, somewhere new. They were beside themselves with worry but I managed to reassure them that you’d find your way and you’d be okay. You had a good head on your shoulders and you didn’t want to be cooped up in Bluebell Hill forever. You wanted to see the rest of the world and begin your own adventure. I told them how you felt, but left the letter to explain everything else. They did care, Jessica. I promise you, they did. They cried that night, kept saying that they’d done it all wrong, that they’d have done it all different if they’d have had the chance. But you’d already gone.’

  Jessica nodded. ‘I forgot I’d said that, about not wanting them to contact me.’ She felt a sharp stab of pain in her chest as she wondered whether they would have got in touch if she’d allowed them to. But they’d listened to her and obeyed her orders to not contact her. Perhaps they’d seen that and taken it as their chance to finally do something right when it came to their daughter. ‘It was so messy wasn’t it?’ she murmured quietly, remembering the hurt and pain, the emotions that had turned her against her parents towards the end. ‘I was so angry, so frustrated with them.’ Her hands clenched at the memory of it. She was older now, and wiser, she hoped. Still, her childhood would never be looked upon with fond memories and that would always be a bitter pill to swallow. Most people remembered summer holidays and BBQs, but she remembered wishing it was her parents who had collected her when the school day had finished rather than Esme.

  ‘I tried to phone the number that you left a few days later, Jessica,’ Esme said quietly. ‘I was worrying about you but when I dialled the number it cut off and said that it was no longer in service.’ Esme’s eyes glittered with tears as she turned to her. ‘You changed your number, didn’t you?’

  Jessica swallowed as it all began to come back to her. It was as if she’d unconsciously locked all of those memories away into a box and only now were they beginning to resurface. ‘I did,’ she whispered. How could she have forgotten that? She’d snapped her sim card into two and chucked it away. She’d seen it as the first step to cutting herself off completely from her previous life. ‘I’m sorry, Esme. I truly am.’ She lowered her eyes. How could she have done that to Esme? She’d treated the woman awfully. She knew that no matter how much she tried to dress the hurtful truth up with her explanations and excuses, she’d still hurt Esme more than she’d known. She realised that now.

  Neither of them spoke or moved until Esme’s hand reached across the small gap between the two armchairs and clasped Jessica’s. She gave it a tight, comforting squeeze. She’d always looked upon her as a daughter rather than a child who she’d been hired to look after. ‘You’re here now, Jessica. Perhaps a few years late but you’re here, and that’s all that matters, my dear. That’s all that has ever mattered to me.’

  Chapter Three

  On the morning of her parents’ funeral, Jessica dressed slowly. She could hear Esme pottering about in the kitchen below but didn’t feel ready to go downstairs and face the day ahead. She wasn’t quite sure what was expected of her, of how to react or whether she was supposed to cry or remain passive-faced. It was such a weird situation and she felt so emotionally abnormal.

  She tugged her hair up into a ponytail and stared at herself in the mirror above the chest of drawers.

  The churning, twisting feeling that had appeared after the very first phone call with Esme returned to her as she studied her reflection wa
rily. The strange thing was, her reflection looked calm and untroubled. Her lips didn’t quiver, her eyes weren’t wet with tears and she didn’t have shadows beneath them that would hint at the restless nights. Instead, she looked normal, and completely unaffected by the news of her parents’ death. For the millionth time, she questioned whether she was emotionless. She’d thought about it a lot lately, about how it didn’t seem normal for her to be reacting in this way. Most people would have been racked with guilt, sore-eyed from the crying and frail from grief taking over the need for food. There was definitely a thump of sadness when she thought clearly about them and that they were no longer present but then, she’d never felt like they’d been present when they’d been alive anyway, so what was the difference now? She was sure, too, that the sadness only made itself known because of the fact that now there really would be no second chances, no opportunities to make things right. It was the same sort of feeling a person would get when trying to fall asleep after having a bad argument with someone that they cared about, that niggling feeling that burrowed away because you knew that you wouldn’t get a wink of sleep until things were sorted out and back to normal. But things had never been normal, so really, this situation had no other state to return to.

  Her childhood had been spent under the watchful, adoring eye of Esme who had been employed by her parents as Jessica’s nanny. Miriam and Arthur McAdams had worked non-stop, leaving Jessica in the care of Esme day in, day out. They had important, busy jobs, on-call 24/7, called upon to deal with emergencies. She’d rarely set eyes on them, even when, at the age of five, she’d sat at the top of the staircase and waited for them to walk through the door. She’d refused to go to bed when prompted by Esme. In the end, unable to keep her eyes open a second longer, she’d fallen asleep with her forehead against the wooden banister. Esme had had to scoop her up and tuck her into her bed.

  ‘Jessica? Are you awake, dear?’ A gentle knock sounded at the door. Jessica stepped rapidly away from the mirror as Esme’s voice filtered into her consciousness.

  ‘Yes, I’m just getting dressed,’ she called back, trying to keep her voice level, blinking around the room, trying to remember what exactly she’d been doing before becoming fixated by her reflection in the mirror. ‘I’ll be down in just a sec.’ She took one last look at herself and stared hard at the face that looked back at her. After her self-evaluation, she turned away sharply. Stuffing her things into her bag, she left the room and headed downstairs.

  ***

  They left Esme’s cottage in silence and made tracks towards Bluebell Hill church. It was only a short walk to their destination but it felt like it lasted a lifetime. They passed the village square and the school which Jessica had attended when she’d been little. The sound of children laughing and squealing filtered through the green fence. They walked by the post-office and a handful of people who Esme acknowledged with a polite smile or a quick ‘Hello’ until eventually, they arrived at the wrought-iron gates of the church.

  Headstones of the deceased were visible around the side of the building, and a cluster of suitably-attired people surrounded the open doors chatting quietly amongst themselves. It was enough to make Jessica’s legs wobble.

  She paused before stepping onto the cream stone path which led up to the church doors. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted to take that step over the threshold. She knew that once she did, the circumstances surrounding her parents would suddenly become real, harsh and unable to hide away from. She’d been ignoring the reality steadfastly since hearing of it but today, that would change. For good. And there wasn’t a single thing that she could do about it. She gulped as she blinked at the church, imagining the two coffins inside, the vicar, the people, the tears and the emotions. Was she strong enough to do this? She went to reach for her phone to call Sarah. She needed some of her best friend’s support now more than ever.

  ‘Jessica? Do you want to take a few minutes first?’ Esme’s small hand squeezed her arm gently.

  She nodded, grateful for Esme’s never-ending support. ‘Yes. Yes, please. Can we? I just need a little extra time, that’s all. Just a few minutes.’ She was rambling as Esme led her away from the entrance, working herself up into even more of state. How was this real? Why was it happening? Was it to teach her a lesson for running away and not coming back to Bluebell Hill when they’d still been alive? But what would have become of her if she’d stayed? A million thoughts went around and around in her mind as she stared, unseeing, ahead of herself.

  ‘Jessica, listen to me.’ Esme turned Jessica to face her and placed her hands on her shoulders. ‘You will get through this, okay? I’ll be right beside you every step of the way. I promise. We’ll do this together. If you want to cry, you cry. I know you’re confused about how to feel, but don’t be. Whatever emotion comes to you when we’re in there, just let it out. Don’t try to fight it, don’t question it. Just let it happen.’

  Jessica took a few deep, calming breaths and nodded. ‘You’re right.’ She looked into Esme’s eyes and knew she’d make it through anything if she had Esme beside her. ‘What time do we need to be in there?’

  ‘Eleven.’ Esme checked the time on her watch. ‘We still have a few minutes so we’ll stay here until you feel calm enough, okay? No rushing into this. You take your time. That’s all you can do.’

  ‘Okay.’

  They remained there for a couple of minutes until Esme’s head lifted. ‘Oh, Rueben’s here.’

  ‘Who’s here?’ Jessica glanced up from the ground and saw Esme moving off towards someone. She turned slightly to see who it was. Her mouth dropped open in surprise when she spotted the familiar face.

  Their paths had crossed again, although not in the best circumstances, she had to admit. She watched him taking long strides up the path towards the church, dressed in a sharp black suit, bright white shirt and black tie beneath the tailored jacket. His hands were tucked neatly away in his trouser pockets. Jessica turned quickly, annoyed that this was the place where they were to meet again. She could hear chatter coming from behind her and realised that she probably looked ridiculous standing there with her back turned to them. She turned around and attempted a weak smile their way.

  ‘Rueben, come and meet Jessica,’ Esme said, dragging one of his suited arms in her direction. ‘This is Jessica, Mr and Mrs McAdams’ daughter.’ She pushed Rueben forward, a little forcefully, Jessica noticed. They came face to face.

  It appeared that Rueben hadn’t yet realised who she was and was smiling easily at Esme’s insistence until he was directly in front of her and the easy smile slipped from his face, leaving in its place a confused frown. ‘Mr and Mrs McAdam’s daughter?’ he asked. His green eyes darted about her face quickly as if trying to make sense of it all. ‘Jessica McAdams?’ And then, just like that, Jessica saw the exact moment of realisation. His features all seemed to shift at the same time. He glanced towards the church, back at her, and then pulled an apologetic face. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to put two and two together.

  Jessica shoved a hand towards him to give herself a reason to break eye contact. Perhaps she could pretend that the whole Cornwall thing hadn’t happened? ‘Yes, Jessica McAdams.’

  He glanced at her waiting hand but returned his gaze to her face curiously. Finally, he took her hand with his own. It was huge compared to hers. Warm, too. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Jessica. I’m Rueben. Rueben Greer.’ They shook in a very business-like way before he turned his attention back to Esme. Jessica looked down at her hand, the warmth of his palm still present on her skin.

  ‘We’d better get inside. The service will be starting soon.’ He cast a wary glance at Jessica. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. It must be a really difficult time for you.’

  She wasn’t sure if she deserved his sympathies but she smiled gratefully at him anyway. ‘Thank you.’

  They continued to watch each other curiously until Esme linked her arm with Jessica’s. ‘Are you ready, dear?’


  They crunched up the stony path towards the church. Jessica ignored her surroundings, the headstones, the sorrowful faces as they reached the church doors, people sniffing into handkerchiefs as they headed inside. She searched for Esme’s hand as they found a suitable place to be seated in the church. As the service began, she clutched tighter the small hand in hers and allowed herself to cry, just like Esme had said.

  It was the strangest thing to feel like an imposter at her own parents’ funeral but tears still fell. They fell for the days she’d spent as a child wishing that her parents loved her. They were tears for the hopes of a sad little girl, who even the love and care of Esme couldn’t make better. They were tears for the loneliness, despite Esme being at her side almost every single day. Tears for dinners eaten with Esme rather than her parents, days in the garden with Esme, tears for the nights she’d spent forcing herself to stay awake to see her parents, tears for mornings when she had attempted to wake up earlier than usual to catch them on their way out, only to find that they’d already left for yet another day at the hospital. Tears for birthdays when it had been Esme telling her to make a wish as she blew out her birthday candles, instead of her mother and father. She wasn’t crying because of Esme’s constant presence in her childhood, but for the lack of her parents’. It was such a shame that you couldn’t turn back time.

  The service seemed to slip by in just moments and before she was aware of it, people were filing out of the church, dabbing at their eyes with hankies and snivelling sadly for the loss of two such hard-working, respectable people.

  ***

  The three of them left the church and blinked in the early afternoon sunshine as they walked. For the first time since she’d arrived in Bluebell Hill, Jessica noticed the pearly white clouds in the sky. They felt ridiculously appropriate for what the morning had held for her.

  ‘A beautiful service,’ Rueben commented politely as they walked down the path towards the village square. A group of people were following behind them, back to their daily lives after a bleak morning spent in the church.