‘Ready for this?’ Georgia asked as we exited the car.
‘I think so. I’m glad you’re with me.’
We wandered up the lane and paused at the opening of Whinlatter Close to take it in. The trees and shrubs had grown significantly since I left. In the front garden of The Stables ahead of us were flowerbeds where there’d previously just been lawn, and solar panels had been added to the roof of The Byre.
‘Going any further?’ Georgia asked.
I nodded and set off walking. The Bothy was at the top of the close and we paused by the green in front of it, gazing up at the enormous blossom tree which I’d planted when it was a sapling.
The new owners of The Bothy had painted the front door a petrol-blue colour. It was nice but I preferred the natural wood look we’d opted for.
‘How does it feel?’ Georgia asked, slipping her arm through mine.
‘Strange but not scary like I expected.’
I felt a bit silly, having got myself so worked up about being back here, but now I felt very detached from the place. Maybe time was a great healer after all.
There were lots of cards displayed across the window ledge in the lounge of The Bothy so the current owners clearly had something to celebrate. My stomach flipped as I had a vision of that same window ledge covered in sympathy cards. I averted my gaze and focused on The Byre. There was afor salesign in the garden with a redsoldsign angled across it. When I’d searched online to see if The Bothy had been sold, I’d spotted that The Stables – Jan and Colin’s house – had changed hands three years back but there’d been no indication of The Byre selling. Helen and Guy had presumably remained here and were in the process of moving now.
There was a car in their double drive and a ladder propped up against the front of the house, but no sign of anyone. Not that I wanted to bump into them. We never spoke again after the funeral. I had no idea whether Jessie had told them about me hounding her but, for the remaining months I’d lived here, we hadn’t even made eye contact if we passed in our cars.
‘We should probably go,’ I said. If Helen or Guy appeared, I couldn’t imagine they’d be pleased to see me.
At that moment, the front door of The Byre opened and a young man – probably in his mid-twenties – stepped out, holding a bucket of soapy water.
He looked across at Georgia and me. ‘Are you all right there?’ he asked. His voice was cheerful but the frown suggested concern at a couple of strangers staring at the houses.
‘We’re not casing the joint,’ I joked. ‘I used to live in The Bothy but I moved out of the area. I was just having a nostalgic moment.’
He put the bucket down. ‘How long ago was that?’
‘It’ll be seven years ago in June.’
‘In that case, you’ll know my wife. Wait a second.’
He went back inside and Georgia and I crossed the road, stopping at the end of the drive. Moments later, a heavily pregnant woman stepped out of the house and her face fell when she saw me.
I gasped, recognising the young girl in the woman before me. ‘Jessie?’
Watching her cradle her arms protectively over her stomach, I felt terrible. I’d treated her so badly after Noah died. I’d had no right to speak to her that way. What had I been thinking? Even though they hadn’t been together when he died, I knew that Noah had meant the world to Jessie. She’d been grieving and must have been terrified having some deranged woman banging on her door every time she was home alone.
‘I’m not here to cause any trouble,’ I reassured her. ‘I didn’t know you still lived here. I was just here to… Oh, it doesn’t matter. Jessie, I’m so sorry. I was in a horrendously dark place back then and you were one of several people who got the brunt of it. I should never have treated you like that. It was very wrong of me.’
She didn’t respond for a moment and I thought she was going to order me off her land – which I’d have absolutely deserved – but she broke into a smile.
‘I’ve just boiled the kettle. Would you both like a drink? I owe you an apology too.’
The man returned with a window wiper and Jessie did the introductions – Tom, married for nearly two years, first baby due at the end of the month.
‘This is Mel and her sister, Georgia,’ Jessie told Tom. ‘Mel’s Noah’s mum.’
I didn’t miss the raise of Tom’s eyebrows when she added that part so he was presumably aware of our history.
‘I’ll leave you to catch up,’ he said. ‘These windows won’t clean themselves.’
Jessie led us through to the lounge while she made the drinks. There were partly packed boxes strewn everywhere and I felt for her having a house move to contend with while heavily pregnant.
‘You couldn’t have timed it better,’ Jessie said, reappearing and handing us mugs of tea shortly after. ‘I was just about to take a break.’
