‘I’m sorry,’ he said, quickly handing it back.
‘It’s fine.’
‘I only read Helen’s—’
‘It’s okay. Really,’ Orla told him.
‘Do you mind me asking what you said to her? I mean, if you replied.’
‘I told her that I thought she could make a living from it and that she should give it a go.’ Orla looked at her phone, reading the words she’d sent to Helen. ‘I said, “Go for it! Your gift for photography and your passion for what you do are a recipe for success!”’
‘Did she answer back?’
‘Just this.’ Orla turned the phone back to Luke so he could see the smiley face that Helen had sent in response.
‘Was that her last message to you?’
Orla nodded.
‘Her last message was a smiley face,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘What time did she send it?’
Orla looked at the screen again.
‘At 18:26.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Luke said. ‘That was just a few minutes before the crash. She messaged me at 18:15 so you must have been the last person she messaged.’
Orla’s fingers closed tightly around the phone as if that knowledge made it all the more precious, and then she looked up at Luke, whose eyes were filled with tears.
‘She left the world with a smile,’ he said.
Chapter 7
Luke walked along the beach, still feeling shaken by the revelations on Orla’s phone. He’d seen the way her hand had closed around it after he’d told her that was probably Helen’s last ever message. He knew how she felt because he felt the same way about his phone. There was a little piece of Helen locked away inside it. As well as the texts and photos she’d sent him, there were voicemails too that he was so glad he’d never got round to deleting. They weren’t especially endearing messages – one was a reminder for him to pick up a bag of self-raising flour on his way home, and another revealed the Helen that could be just a little bit moody when Luke had forgotten to do something. He couldn’t help smiling as he remembered that about her. She was so organised and just couldn’t understand his chronic forgetfulness. But even though her message didn’t show her in the best light, it was her voice, reaching out to him from beyond the barrier of death, and it was so precious to him. He knew he could never delete that message.
It was funny, Luke thought, but you even missed all the little things that used to annoy you about a person when they were no longer around, like the way Helen would leave the entire contents of her make-up bag all over the bathroom when she was in a rush to catch her train for work. How Luke missed that now.
As he walked, he thought about the message Helen had exchanged with Orla. So, she’d really been thinking about making a living from her art. She’d made noises about it before, but he hadn’t thought she was serious. Her photography had always been a passionate hobby. She’d never really said anything about turning it into a job. And now she’d never get the chance. The world beyond her little platform on Galleria would never know how very talented she was.
‘Oh, Helen,’ he whispered into the wind, an immense sadness filling his heart at the thought of her dreams coming to nothing. The waste of a beautiful life. Unfulfilled potential. What would she have been able to achieve? Had she been very unhappy in her day job? Luke had known she sometimes found it unchallenging, but she’d never been one for complaining about things. She’d known how lucky she was to have a good, safe job. Perhaps that was part of what had held her there for so long – the fear of letting something safe go and leaping into the unknown. Fear, he thought, could be a pretty powerful jailer.
Unless it was something else. Luke knew it had taken him a good few years to get his own business off the ground and that they’d had to make a few sacrifices along the way. Fancy holidays had been out for a while, and he’d had to make do with repairs to his old van because there wasn’t any way they’d have been able to afford a new one. Had Helen put her own dreams on hold so that Luke had been able to pursue his? The thought had never occurred to him before, but now he felt it like an arrow in the heart. Had he been so selfish as not to have seen Helen’s sacrifice? Had she resented him each morning she’d left for work for that mind-numbing commute to the job she didn’t love?
‘Oh, God!’ he cursed, the sea-blown air carrying his words away so that he imagined them circling with the gulls above, and then he sank down onto the shingle, his head in his hands as the darkness engulfed him again. It came on very suddenly, he’d learned, like a great tsunami. He’d lost whole days to it, and he was utterly helpless to stop it. Then, he’d feel completely drained. He took a moment now as the image of Helen’s sweet face sharpened in his mind.
I’m so sorry, he told her silently.
Don’t be such a loon!
‘Helen?’ He looked up, convinced he’d heard her voice and that she’d be standing right before him on the beach. But, she wasn’t. He had so many moments like that: hearing her, imagining her, feeling her presence. Was that normal, he wondered? Was it some weird kind of coping mechanism? There was nobody you could ask about it. Nobody he knew had lost a spouse. Perhaps it was a fault in him that only death brought to the fore. Perhaps he was weak; he couldn’t face something as big as death so he was trying to somehow bring her back. By imagining that she was still there, however briefly, he was essentially denying death. Of course, those moments were all too brief and the enormity of the truth soon overwhelmed him once more. Helen had gone. She wasn’t coming back. Those fragmentary moments when he thought she was there, when he heard her voice, when he glimpsed her in the corner of his eye, were just in his mind, weren’t they?
He let his gaze settle on the sea, watching the incessant waves rolling in, blue-grey and beautiful, their rhythm gently soothing his soul and helping his mind to still. He welcomed these brief moments that came in-between the bouts of pain and he would try to cling onto them for as long as possible, knowing that the onslaught of grief was just a thought away.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the beach for, but it was long enough to start to feel better. Standing up, he brushed himself down and walked into the sand dunes and then along a footpath which led back into Lorford, stopping as he came to the road. He knew his way back to the castle, but there was a grassy track which caught his attention and made him take a little detour. The track widened and he soon saw that it led to the village allotments. He paused for a moment, taking it all in. There were dozens of plots, all neatly fenced with tiny sheds in various stages of dilapidation and chocolate-brown beds ready for planting. Spring greens coloured some of the spaces and there were structures erected in others for the beans and peas of summer. There were compost bins and water butts, and whole cities of canes ready for action. And, rising magnificent above it all was the castle. He took a minute to absorb it all and then he became aware of a white-haired man who was watching him. Luke gave him a brief nod and the older man nodded back.
‘Glad to see you’re up and about now,’ the man said to him as he walked towards the wooden gate at the end of his allotment.
Luke did a double take. ‘Pardon?’
‘Glad to see you’re okay. After . . .’ The man paused. ‘You don’t remember me?’
‘We’ve met?’
‘On the beach.’
‘But I was alone on the beach,’ Luke said, becoming more confused by the minute.
‘Earlier this morning.’
Luke swallowed hard. ‘Ah.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘I am. Listen . . .’
‘No need to say anything,’ the man said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said nonetheless.
The man opened the gate and stepped forward onto the path, wiping his hands on the front of his cord trousers before extending one towards Luke.
‘I’m Bill.’
‘Luke.’
‘Good to meet you, Luke.’
‘I wasn’t feeling very we
ll,’ Luke told him. ‘This morning. I hope I didn’t put you to any trouble.’
‘Not at all.’
‘You’ve got a nice plot here,’ Luke said, keen to change the subject as quickly as possible.
‘Thank you. You know I garden for Miss Kendrick up at the castle?’
‘Oh, right. I didn’t know.’
‘I mean, she does a fair bit herself, of course.’ Bill pursed his lips together. ‘You two getting on all right?’
‘Sure. She’s made me feel very welcome.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes.’ Luke was surprised that Bill looked so puzzled by this.
‘Today was – well – it was the first time I met her in person.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve never seen her before.’
Luke frowned. ‘Never seen her? What – ever?’
‘Not so much as a passing glimpse. We do all our communication through written notes.’
Luke took this in. ‘She’s a bit of a recluse, isn’t she?’
‘The first one I’ve ever known.’
‘Do you think it’s because of what happened to her?’ Luke asked.
‘What happened?’ Bill asked.
‘I don’t know, but I’m imagining it has something to do with her face. The way she tries to hide it and the anxious way she behaves in general. It kind of makes me think that something happened to make her hide away from the world. Do you know how long she’s been in the castle?’
‘A couple of years,’ Bill told him, ‘and, to my knowledge, she’s only ever left the castle to walk on the beach.’
‘And you’ve never seen her there?’
‘No. We go at different times and I like to respect her privacy. I value my job at the castle and wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable.’
‘And she doesn’t go into the village?’
‘Never. It’s a strange thing, isn’t it? To come to a place as friendly as Lorford and not to be a part of things.’
‘It does seem a shame,’ Luke agreed.
‘You staying long?’
‘No,’ Luke said, staring up at the castle now. ‘I’d better get back to work. I’m a builder and there’s always plenty to do.’
‘You don’t fancy a spot of work on the castle, then?’
Luke laughed, but then looked back at the great building. ‘I’ve worked on some old buildings in my time, but never a castle before.’
‘I dare say there’d be a bit of work for you there.’
‘I dare say you’re right.’
‘Well, it was good to meet you,’ Bill said.
‘You too.’
Luke watched as Bill returned to his plot, picking up a spade and settling down to some work. It really was time Luke thought about returning to work too. Chippy had been more than understanding over the last few weeks, but Luke knew that he’d have to get back to things at some point.
He returned to the castle. Orla had asked him not to leave without saying goodbye and he wanted to thank her for her kindness in looking after him. It really was an extraordinary place and he almost felt jealous of Orla living there. He felt he could do with something like that at the moment. A huge fortification against the world.
Then something occurred to him as he thought of Bill’s words about the castle needing a builder. Perhaps this place needed him as much as he believed he needed it. One thing he knew for sure was that, in the brief time he’d spent at Lorford, he’d come to be very fond of it and he didn’t feel ready to leave just yet. And then something else occurred to him. Perhaps Orla needed him too. Perhaps he could help her. Hadn’t Helen said Orla had sounded lonely and that she’d wanted to help her? If she spent all her days holed up in a castle, not talking to her neighbours, he could understand why. But perhaps she was scared. Perhaps she needed help reaching out.
Perhaps I can help her.
He rang the bell outside the front door and waited for Orla.
‘You okay?’ she asked when she opened the door, One Ear by her side.
‘Yes,’ he said, wondering how he was going to say what he wanted to say. Quickly, he told himself, before he lost his nerve. ‘Orla?’
‘Yes?’
‘I have a proposition for you.’
‘Oh?’
They made their way into the great hall and Luke looked around the stonework, noticing the bits of plaster that were flaking away. He’d noticed a lot of other jobs that needed doing as he’d left the room he’d slept in. His builder’s eyes meant that he couldn’t help making a mental catalogue of all the work needed on the floor, walls, ceilings and windows.
‘This place of yours,’ he began, ‘have you ever had any work done on it?’
‘Yes, lots. Before I moved in, I got planning permission for extensive repair work and had a team of builders in for a while.’
Luke frowned. ‘There’s still a lot to do.’
‘I know. I thought I’d better stick to a budget so I was careful in the jobs I chose to tackle first.’
‘I see. So you’ve got planning permission and everything?’
‘Yes. It was a bit of a nightmare getting it all signed off with English Heritage, but I’ve got all the paperwork. Why?’
‘Well, there are a few things I wouldn’t mind having a go at.’
‘I’m afraid I’m not really in a position to hire anyone at the moment.’
‘That’s okay. I thought we could do a trade.’
‘What do you mean?’
Luke ran a hand over the back of his neck. ‘I wondered if I could stay here for a while. I don’t really want to go home, you see. It’s been nice to get away for a bit, if I’m honest.’ He stopped, feeling the thud of his heart and the ridiculousness of his request as he looked at Orla’s stricken face. ‘Look, forget it. It was wrong of me to ask. You’ve been so kind and I shouldn’t impose any longer. I’ll get out of your way.’
He turned to leave, regretting having made even more of a fool of himself than before, and then he winced and clutched his head.
‘Luke!’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you okay?’
‘Just my head.’
‘Where you hit it on the beach?’
‘It’s fine.
Orla hesitated. ‘I don’t think you should be thinking of driving anywhere yet.’
Luke sighed. ‘You’re probably right.’
‘I think . . . I think you should come back inside.’
Luke saw the nervousness in Orla’s face and instantly regretted having even broached the subject of staying. What had he been thinking of?
‘No, no. Really. I should go.’ He turned to leave and then Orla said something that surprised him.
‘It’s what Helen would have wanted, isn’t it?’
The mention of Helen stopped him and he looked round at Orla.
‘Don’t you think? She would want us . . .’ Orla paused. ‘To be friends, I think.’
‘Yes,’ Luke said, not needing to think about the answer. ‘I think so.’
Orla’s hands twisted together in front of her.
‘Listen – this is strange for me,’ she told him. ‘I haven’t spoken to anyone other than my mother for months now, let alone lived with someone under the same roof. And I know I’ve got a pretty big roof, but I think you can guess that I like my own space.’
‘I had kind of got that impression, yes.’ He smiled.
‘So I think you ought to stay.’
Luke blinked. He wasn’t sure who was the more surprised: him or Orla.
He laughed. ‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘There’s plenty of room, as you can see, and you looked very comfortable in that room you were sleeping in.’ She stopped. ‘And I want to help and I’m sure – quite sure – that Helen would want me to help you.’
Luke swallowed, but didn’t say anything.
‘Look, I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through but if being here at the castle can help in any smal
l way then I’d love you to stay.’
One Ear came forward and pushed his wet nose into Luke’s hand.
‘I think he wants you to stay too,’ Orla said.
‘Then I’d better not say no.’
Orla smiled, her face lighting up. ‘Good. Then it’s settled. Only, if you truly want to work on the castle, then you must let me cover the cost of materials you need.’
Luke shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. I get things at trade price,’ he told her.
‘No, I insist.’
‘Well, okay. I’ll keep you informed of what we need and you can tell me if that’s good with you.’
Orla nodded as Luke hovered awkwardly.
‘Well, what do we do now?’ he asked with a nervous laugh.
‘How about a cup of tea?’
‘Sounds good.’
They went into the kitchen and Luke put the kettle on as Orla got mugs from a cupboard. Looking out of the window down into the garden, Luke suddenly remembered his meeting in the allotment.
‘I met Bill.’
‘Bill?’
‘Your gardener.’
‘Oh, right, of course.’
‘He has an allotment over there.’
‘Does he?’
‘You’ve never seen it?’
‘No.’
‘It’s a lovely spot.’ Luke paused. ‘He said . . .’
‘What?’
‘He said you only ever leave the castle to go to the beach with One Ear.’
‘Did he?’ Orla’s back was to him as she made the tea and he wondered if he’d overstepped the mark already and possibly endangered his invitation to stay at the castle.
‘You should take a look some time – at the allotments, I mean,’ Luke continued awkwardly. ‘You obviously enjoy your garden. I think you’d like it.’
Orla didn’t respond at first, but moved to the kettle to finish making the tea, presenting Luke with his mug a moment later.
‘Luke,’ she began, ‘if you’re going to stay here, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t question the way I live my life.’
Her eyes held his and he noticed that they were green, only her left one was more opaque than the right. As if sensing the intrusion of his gaze, she turned away.
The Beauty of Broken Things Page 8
