‘And I can be flexible with my hours,’ I said. ‘But if you do want some alone time, we don’t want to crowd you.’ I’d felt crowded when Noah died. I knew my family wanted to help and that they were grieving themselves but there were so many moments in the days following his death where I wanted to yell at them all to leave me alone because I couldn’t stand the whispers, the concerned looks, the offers to make a cup of tea as though that could make things better.
Dad pondered for a moment. ‘There’s a couple of things I’d like to talk to you both about but how about some lunch first? Nothing fancy – just a tin of soup – then we can chat and you can have the rest of the afternoon free.’
Georgia and I agreed to his suggestion and soon had steaming bowls of spicy parsnip soup in front of us. It was one of my favourite flavours and it smelled delicious but I could only manage a few mouthfuls and even they were a struggle to force down. Georgia played with hers and Dad only managed about a third of his bowl.
‘I thought I was hungry,’ he said, ‘but it seems none of us were. Leave the bowls – something to keep me busy later – and let’s go through to the lounge for that talk.’
Georgia and I followed him and settled next to each other on the corner sofa while he sat back in the armchair, his hands steepled against his lips as though in silent prayer.
‘We don’t officially know the cause of death, but it’s fair to assume it was a cardiac arrest. As you know, your mum had been having various tests and scans. We found out her heart wasn’t doing so well and didn’t want to say anything to you until we knew the specifics. We found out at the start of last week that it was coronary heart disease and she wanted a bit of time to come to terms with the news herself before telling you both. The plan was to let you know this week, but we were hit with the worst-case scenario before that could happen. I know that might anger or frustrate you but?—’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself,’ I interrupted. Dad was in enough pain and no way was I going to add to it. ‘This was Mum’s and your decision to make and I can completely understand wanting some time to process things first.’
‘Me too,’ Georgia agreed. ‘No recriminations here.’
The tension left Dad’s shoulders. ‘Thank you. The other thing I wanted to say was that your mum and I have spent a lot of time over the past week talking about the wonderful life we’ve had together and what the future would look like for me without her in it if the worst happened. The reflection part was good but the future part was incredibly difficult because I’m really not interested in a life without your mum in it. But that’s the way the dice roll and I will find the strength somehow to do this without her.’
Georgia had started crying again and I took her hand in mine. There were still no tears from me, but I could barely breathe for the enormous lump blocking my throat. I didn’t want Dad to have to face the future without the love of his life. I didn’t want to face the future without my mum. I’d expected them both to be around for many more years and to have the chance to make them proud of me for finally getting my life back on track. It was too early to say how much of a setback Mum’s death was going to be, but there’d definitely be a derailment. After my walk up Cat Bells with Alice, I’d sworn that the little things wouldn’t derail me but this wasn’t a little thing. This was huge.
‘There are going to be a lot of tough days ahead,’ Dad continued, ‘and, let’s face it, nobody looks forward to a funeral. June has left detailed plans about what she wants, which I’ll share with you once we secure a date. This is something we both did many years ago and, every so often, we’ve updated our wishes. I’m going to need your support and I’ll be there for you in return but there’ll be times when I just want to be alone and I hope you’ll understand that. Some of those times, it’ll be because I’m upset and I want to keep that private. I know there’s nothing wrong with men showing their emotions but it’s not how I was raised and, at my age, I’m not going to change. Other times, I’ll want to be alone just to be alone. June was always the chatty one while I preferred to sit back and listen, so I know I’m going to find it hard being the centre of attention and having everyone asking if I’m okay and if I need anything. I know it’s only because you care and I do appreciate that, but if I say I want to be alone, it’s not code for me really wanting company but not wanting to say so. Does that make sense?’
‘Perfect sense,’ I said, having been in the same boat and knowing exactly where he was coming from. ‘We won’t crowd you. Just promise you’ll say when you want some company, even if it’s just to sit quietly while watching TV or reading a book.’
‘I promise.’
Dad wanted some of that alone time now so we took our leave.
‘Don’t forget to bring the washing in,’ Georgia said as Dad walked us to the door. ‘As a heads-up, there’s some of Mum’s clothes out there.’
He nodded and hugged us both goodbye.
Dad had dropped Georgia off at her house after their visit to Keira so she had her car with her now. ‘I know it’s what he wants,’ she said, opening her car door, ‘but I feel bad about leaving him.’
‘Me too, but I completely get everything he was saying. Everyone rallies around, wanting to take the pain away, but the truth is they can’t. It’s always there and sometimes you just need to be alone with it.’
Georgia looked as though she was going to ask me something, but her phone rang.
‘It’s Johnnie. I’d better get it.’
Although Georgia hadn’t activated the speaker, she must have had the volume high as I could hear Johnnie.
‘I’m so sorry to do this to you when you’re with your dad, but Keira’s been on the phone and she’s in a right state with herself. Arlo and Astrid were crying too and I’d have gone home but we have a dog under sedation ready for an op and I’m the only one who can do it.’
‘It’s okay. I’m just leaving Dad’s so I can drive to yours now and stay with her until you get home.’
They ended the conversation and Georgia gave me an apologetic shrug. ‘Did you want to talk? Because it sounded like you did.’
‘Gosh, no. I was just sharing an experience. You go and be with Keira.’
We hugged then both got into our cars and set off in opposite directions. As I drove along the drive at Willowdale Hall, I waved to Emma who was setting off with four of the alpacas and a group of women who all looked to be about Mum’s age. Or the age Mum had been. That tennis ball in my throat was back and I knew there was no chance of me getting any work done this afternoon. I needed to be outdoors but not here. Much as I loved the estate, there were too many trees and I needed open space.
I parked outside the hall and ran inside to change into my walking gear. I shoved my woolly hat and waterproof in my small backpack along with a cereal bar, filled my metal bottle with water then drove out of the estate again. I knew exactly where I was heading – a lake which wasn’t on the popular tourist trails and therefore more likely to be quiet. It was possible I’d see other walkers but not many and that was what I needed.
Loweswater, one of the smallest bodies of water in the Lake District, was approximately a mile long and half a mile wide and found to the far west of the National Park. Nestled in a wooded valley and surrounded by fells, it was known asthe peaceful lakebecause it wasn’t as close to amenities and therefore didn’t attract so many visitors. Walkers could take a circular route round the lake but, for me, the beauty of any of the lakes was viewing them from above. The added bonus of looking down on Loweswater was seeing Crummock Water too – a body of water to which Loweswater was once joined.
I parked in a layby and set off along the track across a field. With each step, I felt like a tightly wound Jack-in-a-box desperate to spring from my confines. My pace quickened to a jog, to a run, to a sprint. My muscles cried out in protest at the unexpected exercise and I struggled to catch my breath but I kept running, praying I wouldn’t slip or go over on my ankle. I could have taken a higher path but I stayed on the level and kept going until my lungs protested so strongly that I had to stop. Bending forwards with my hands on my thighs, I gulped at the air, trying to catch my breath. It didn’t help still having that ball of emotion lodged in my throat. I needed a damn good cry but the tears still wouldn’t come. Would shouting or screaming help instead? I straightened up and looked around me. I was about halfway along the lake, although some distance above it. A couple of hikers with a dog were on the higher path but the area was otherwise deserted. Except it wasn’t. There were animals and wildlife everywhere – Herdwick sheep in the field which ran alongside the track I’d taken, cows in the field beyond that and I knew that the conifers by the lake were home to red squirrels. This wasthe peaceful lakeand I had no right to disturb that, no matter how much pain I was feeling, no matter how badly I could do with that release right now.
When I finally got my breathing back under control, I sank down onto a grassy slope and drank from my water bottle. How many times had my parents walked along this path or the one above as they explored their beloved lakes and fells? I imagined them sitting on this very spot with their flasks of tea and a piece of Kendal Mint Cake, Dad trotting out his usual joke about it bearing no resemblance to any cake he’d ever eaten. It must have been so hard for them when they couldn’t do their walks anymore. I knew from Georgia that Mum had encouraged Dad to go without her, but he hadn’t been interested. Might he be interested in a few walks with me instead? I’d give it some time before I suggested it.
