‘I already knew, though, deep down, that Willow wants to take her own life. She’s tried it a few times. I think I’ve told you. Maybe not. She sees it as the way to Maya, or she would, had Edmund not reminded her what happens to people who take that path. I hate him so much, so badly that there aren’t enough adjectives in the dictionary to adequately describe it.
‘Does he not see that she’s trapped and tormented? So desperate and sad. And okay, I do accept that his cruelty is actually keeping her safe, but at the expense of her sanity and well-being. And I know that man so well to also understand that anything he does or says is for his own ends.
‘He simply couldn’t bear the shame of having a child commit such an act. It would offend him deeply, his morals and beliefs so he takes control in order not to fail. In my opinion he failed as a father to Willow and Cris many years ago, but you know all about that. You’ve been here for me through thick and thin.
‘How I wish you could talk to me, Martha. There are so many things I want to ask you. One thing in particular because despite my secret faith, where I still trust in God, to know the truth would be a blessed relief. It really would.
‘Where are you now, dear friend? Are you happy? Walking on fields of green under a blue cloudless sky? Are you with your boy, and your husband?
‘I always picture you holding hands and the three of you laughing in the sun. I hope that’s where you are, where our dear sweet Maya is. In the care of my parents until we all meet again. I have to believe that. Otherwise all of those prayers, all that trust in someone I cannot see, only feel, will have been for nothing.
‘One thing I do know, without a doubt, is that the pain you suffered in loss, all the hours you waited on that bench by the duck pond, the tears you cried in the dark, ended when you left this mortal world. Was it a blessed relief? I truly hope it was.
‘So many questions. Not enough answers. All I can do is focus my energy on facts and one, the most important, is that my daughter needs me more than ever and I won’t fail her. People think I am her rod and staff when in fact she is mine, my reason to get out of bed in the morning.
‘And dear Arty, of course, who I keep at arm’s length, so he leadeth me not into temptation on a regular basis. Who stands patiently in the wings, the understudy, waiting for a chance he may never get. I’ve often thought I should set him free, but that man is stubborn as a mule, and I fear if I tried to, he’d come storming over here and make a terrible scene. I hate scenes so try to avoid one.
‘Anyway, we’ve come this far in our dysfunctional affair, hiding our feelings, living our separate lives, grabbing the most treasured moments so it would be silly, cruel, to stop now.
‘He’s given me space to be, to love and care for my children and never asked more from me than I’m prepared to give. That’s why I adore him because he is my saint, my knight. His light and shade entrances me, thrills me and simply knowing he is there would actually be enough. I think of Arty as my fearless rebel yet in some ways he is my meek slave. A slave to our love. And for my sins I hold the key to his chains.’
The sound of the little dog barking at his owner rudely interrupted Robin and Martha’s one-sided chat. Checking her watch she sighed. 2pm. She needed to get back in case Nate buggered off out again, now he’d done his bit. It was this thought and her irritation at his fickle fakery that made her decide.
It was high time she put a stop to such nonsense. She should follow Babs’ lead and make a reverse-stand of sorts and give Nate his marching orders. Otherwise she’d be following Gina’s path, turning a blind eye. Of course there was still a chance that Nate would astound them all and rubbish the rumours, be affronted at the accusation then pledge his undying dedication to Willow.
Resisting the urge to laugh or look for flying pigs and spotting the man and his dog approaching, she bade a silent farewell to Martha and pushed away from the wall then followed the well-worn path towards the church. Ducking her head against the wind she pointed herself in the direction of the vicarage.
Minutes later, seeing that Edmund’s car was still on the drive next to Nate’s she tutted, sighed, and gritted her teeth in irritation. Still determined, despite the full house and captive audience that awaited she sucked in a lungful of Cheshire air and strode purposefully on, sights set on the vicarage door; mind set on a showdown.
CHAPTERFORTY-SEVEN
Edmund and Natewere seated at the kitchen table, talking in low voices which silenced when she entered the room. Straightening her hair that was tangled from the wind, Robin ignored them both and headed for the kettle until Edmund halted her.
‘There’s tea in the pot if you’d like some.’ He pointed to the table where lo and behold there stood the teapot wearing its knitted cosy and in her usual place, an empty mug.
Bridling at the imperious way he had of indicating where one should sit, Robin followed his direction, unease washing over her. Edmund’s next comment added to it further.
‘Nate and I would like a word.’
Pulling out her chair and sitting, Robin rested her arms on the table and folded her hands together, then waited, glancing at Nate who wore a sheepish expression.
Ha, he’s been caught out. Good. Edmund thinks he’s going to shock me with a sinful revelation but who cares. He can tell him to go. Save me a job.
Edmund, never one to hold back or miss an opportunity to be lead dog, launched straight in. ‘It’s about Willow.’
Robin’s stomach lurched and mother bears claws came straight out. ‘What about Willow?’ she looked from one to the other trying to second guess what came next.
‘Nate and I have been discussing her current state and it’s clear that she’s not making any progress. In fact, it’s two steps forward three back.’
‘I disagree…’ But she wasn’t given the chance to state her case because Edmund took over.
‘Robin, you must listen to what we have to say because it’s obvious to both of us that your judgement is severely clouded by your prevalent maternal instinct and quite frankly, we feel you’re hindering her treatment and recovery.’
Her whole body began to tremble. ‘How dare you! If it wasn’t for me Willow would be left to the mercy of carers who popped in twice a day and what good would that do her?’
Nate remained mute. Edmund closed his eyes briefly as though irritated by an insolent child, then continued.
‘She needs continuous and dedicated psychiatric care and evaluation and she’s not getting that here. Willow requires supervision so she won’t harm herself, and access to professionals who can monitor her and offer her therapy on a day-to-day basis. She’s surviving on the occasional visit from the district nurses and the on-call team when she has one of her episodes.’
