Half an hour or so later, they stepped out into a dreary London morning, the streets still damp from the early-morning rain. Cally took in her clearly affluent surroundings: the towering white townhouses lining the square and the luxury cars parked in designated bays. It was a far cry from the cosy, slightly shabby charm of Lovely Bay but nice all the same.
'This must have been an interesting place to be when you were young,' Cally noted.
Logan strolled along with his hands in his pockets and glanced around as if seeing the street for the first time. 'I suppose so. Though we didn't spend that much time here, really. It was more of a base for when we had to be in London.'
Cally peered at a beautiful tall house with heavy black window boxes dancing with box hedges and white flowers, a huge brass knocker on a front door, and marble steps. ‘Right, yes, I see.’ She didn’t see. Not even close.
‘Look, I’m sorry about this, Cal. It must be bringing back stuff for you.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Is it doing that, I mean?’
‘A bit. It would be weird if it didn’t.’
‘Right.’
‘It’s different, though. I sort of knew what was coming. I had alotof time to prepare.’
‘Hmm.’
‘You didn’t have that.’
‘No.’ Logan swore. ‘I just don’t know how to deal with it.’
Cally sighed and squeezed Logan’s hand. ‘Just prepare yourself for it to be tough. It’s really the only thing you can do.’Cally silently swallowed, more than aware of just how horrible it was going to be. She wasn’t looking forward to the coming few weeks. There she’d been thinking how lucky and gilded the Henry-Hicks lot were. How that had changed.
27
Aweek or so later, things were back to semi-normal as much as they could be. Cally had been busy at the chemist, continuing with the training course on the distribution system and Logan had gone back to work. After she’d finished work, Cally had realised she’d left her iPad at the cottage before the accident and had decided a walk and some fresh air would do her the world of good to clear her head after a few days of learning the ins and outs of the system. She’d made a hot blackcurrant, taken her time and strolled up to the manor. Having not been to the cottage for a few days, she’d let herself in and was surprised by what hit her; a horrible mess as soon as she stepped in the door.
Cally frowned and shook her head. The cottage was usually cleaned by one of the Manor cleaners from an agency in the next town, but by the way it looked the cleaners had not been near nor by it. Logan’s shoes were strewn in the hallway, his work bag looked as if it had been dropped on the floor, and when she got to the kitchen, she raised her eyebrows. The sink was littered with dirty dishes and a pint of milk on the worktop looked as if it had seen better days. Loads of dirty mugs stood by the kettle, and the kitchen table was scattered with all sorts. Themicrowave door was open, showing a bowl of congealed baked beans that appeared to have been heated up and then forgotten. A bottle of wine with a third left in the bottom stood with the top off besides a dirty glass. Cally wrinkled her face in surprise. It was not like Logan at all to live like a slob. In fact, he was usually fairly meticulous about things. Right in front of her, she could see grief doing its thing.
Taking off her cardigan and rolling up her shirt sleeves, she got to it right away, opened the dishwasher, started to methodically unload the clean dishes and one by one put them away. As she dumped the baked beans in the bin, turned on the tap and began to rinse the plates and load them neatly into the empty dishwasher, she thought about all that had happened since she’d arrived back from Scotland. The image of Reginald’s face as he’d come through the hospital waiting room door was scorched into the frontal lobe of Cally’s brain. She’d never be able to unsee the unfiltered pain and she hoped that she’d never witness it again in her life. Reg’s face had been half horrified and half shocked. Cally had never seen a look like it. Since then, she’d seen Reginald at the London house and at the manor and he aged twenty years in a few days. He’d appeared as if he was in freefall, flailing around not sure what to do or say. As if he would never hit the ground again. Cecilia wasn’t far behind.
Cally sighed as she removed everything from the worktops on either side of the sink, unplugged the kettle, put it on the kitchen table, and copiously sprayed the sides with kitchen cleaner. Working from the wall out, she systematically cleaned the worktops until they were sparkling, plugged the kettle back in, popped a tablet in the dishwasher, and pressed go. The microwave was not giving off good vibes; she cut up a lemon, squeezed the juice into a bowl of water, dropped it in, closed the door, and pressed the button for three minutes on high. Fiddling with her necklace as she watched the bowl spin around for asecond, she puffed a huff out of her lips. At least she was doing something useful in the midst of the terrible time. There was that.
Just as she was taking a bag out to the bins behind the stables, she saw Doreen coming the other way with a jumble of empty recycling containers in her hands.
‘Hey, our Cally. How are you?’
‘Not too bad. You?’
Doreen shook her head and sighed. ‘I’ve been better. Not good times. I’m keeping my head down and staying busy.’
Cally lowered her voice. ‘How are things?’
‘Cecilia isnotin a good way. She’s going downhill fast now rather than the other way. Grief is a funny old thing.’
‘Hmm.’
‘What are you doing? How is Logan?’
‘I’m fine. Yeah, Logan is struggling.’
‘I thought so. I saw him yesterday. He didn’t want to talk.’
‘No, it seems to be his way of dealing with it. I came up because I’d left my iPad here a while ago and it’s got a list on it I need.’ Cally gestured in the direction of Logan’s cottage. ‘I’ve spent the last hour cleaning. It was a right mess in there.’
