I thought of Gideon, the look in his eyes when he smiled at me. How my chest grew tight when I thought about not seeing him for days at a time. I let myself remember how thrilling it had been to spend my days surrounded by flowers, creating exquisite tributes to love and happiness.
Was it time to leave the world of loss and celebrate joy and hope again?
As soon as I got home, I called Ezra. He had two words for me.
‘Absolutely yes!’
* * *
On Thursday, Hattie cancelled art therapy. Or rather, I cancelled it for her, amidst much protest.
After too long going round and round the same conversation, I decided some tough love was needed before she wore herself out even further.
‘Hattie, your skin is the colour of actual vomit. You wince whenever you move. If you want the Gals to conclude that you’re dying, by all means carry on with the session. I’ll be astonished if you can get through it without collapsing.’
‘Do I really look that bad?’ I’d found her in the sunroom, curled under a blanket.
I grabbed the mirror from its hook above the mantlepiece and showed her.
‘Yuck. I was hoping I only felt like the walking dead. I’ll put on some make-up, though; that should help hide it.’
‘This would be our final session, Hattie. We want you to enjoy it. Right now, you can’t stand for more than a few minutes. How are you going to handle us lot for the whole evening?’
She shook her head, face crumpling. ‘I’ll probably feel even worse by next week.’
‘Next week, you can rest properly beforehand. You were standing up for hours at that easel today.’
‘All these woodlice were in my head. I needed to get them out.’
‘So I’ll tell the Gals the final session is postponed?’
She slumped back. ‘See if they can come over on Saturday. In the afternoon, when my energy levels tend to be better. It’s probably time I told them something, at least.’
It was the Easter weekend, and the Gals were busy seeing family or still recovering from seeing family last weekend, in Kalani’s case. Instead, we arranged for an Easter Monday afternoon tea on Kalani’s veranda (‘I need you Gals to exorcise the cloud of auntie criticism now haunting my private space’).
While Hattie rested on Thursday afternoon, I borrowed her car to drop a load of boxes at a local charity shop, and a couple more at the recycling centre. Once back at Riverbend, I added some individual items to online collector sites I’d used before, and then walked over to the boathouse.
After a quick meal with Agnes, Gideon and I climbed into his kayak. I lay back and stared at the branches overhead as he rowed upstream. These trees, which had been here for generations before Hattie, and would still be here for many more after we’d all gone. That had fed from the sunshine above and the decaying mass of once-living things below. Gideon didn’t ask about the weight hunching up my shoulders, so I didn’t have to lie to him about how my heart ached as I disposed of Hattie’s things, even those she wouldn’t want to keep if a miracle happened and she survived the lymphoma. But when he’d brought us back to the river’s bend, and we’d squeezed into a chair to watch the last ribbons of sunset, in the simple act of his wrapping his arms around me, I felt less alone and more seen than I had in forever.
I ended that sad, sorry day thinking about flowers. Dreaming about hope.
28
The next day, Good Friday, I readied my motorhome, strapped Muffin into her seat belt and battled the bank holiday traffic up to the Peak District.
JoJo and Aaliyah had made a banner, ‘Hello Auntie Sophie’, which hung between two trees above the farm gate. As soon as we pulled into the drive, the front door flung open and they tumbled out, Ishmael trailing behind them, the teenager trying to play it cool despite the grin plastered across his face.
We made it back inside in a jostle of hugs, tail wags and competing exclamations of who missed who the most. As always, I was immediately handed a mug of tea and piece of cake the kids had made, followed later on by wine and the feast Naomi had prepared.
The six of us talked, laughed and ate until the sun had long set behind the peaks. Then we moved into the living room to light the fire and play silly games until the kids were ready for either sleep or their Xbox, leaving the adults to settle down with another glass of wine and the box of fancy chocolates I’d brought but not wanted to waste on the children.
‘You look incredible, Sophie,’ Naomi said, curling up beside me on their squishy sofa while Ezra kissed the girls goodnight. ‘Working with people who aren’t grieving has clearly done you good.’
I couldn’t help agreeing. ‘Although no one has died yet, it might end up even harder, working with a client this side of bereavement. But it’s not just the project that’s doing me good.’
‘Sophie Potter. I haven’t seen that gleam in your eyes for a very long time. Tell me everything, quick.’
I did, although it was impossible to be too quick, and so Ezra heard most of it as well.
