Joyce looked from Erin to me. ‘The ones you shouldn’t eat.Horsechestnuts.’
CHAPTER18
Iclimbed out of Erin’s car and waving her off, watched her drive into the distance until she was no longer in sight. Unzipping my bag, I pulled out my keys and turned to The Knitting Nook. Staring at the entrance, my gaze drew upwards to my living room window. Everything was in darkness and I couldn’t face going in.
Struggling to hold myself together, I knew why. Racing to the hospital and seeing Joyce’s despair had hit too close to home. It had reminded me of events and emotions I’d spent the last year and a half trying to forget. Stepping into my empty flat would be like reliving the aftermath of Gran’s death. I wouldn’t just be opening a door; I’d be opening the floodgates that held back my tears.
I dug out my phone, hoping Gideon had called. But there were no messages or notifications on the screen. My heart sank. The last thing I wanted was to be on my own, but without even a text from Gideon to check on me, Joyce, or Richard, making the first move didn’t feel right.
Maybe he’d meant to but had fallen asleep? Or maybe he felt too embarrassed after his big moment was cut short? I scolded myself for making excuses.Or maybe you’re just being too kind, Hattie?
I supposed Gideon’s silence was a good thing. If he came round, there was no guarantee he wouldn’t pick up where he’d left off and I wasn’t in the frame of mind to talk about our future. I was too preoccupied with thoughts of the past.
Putting my phone away again, I tucked my hands in my coat pockets. I looked up and down the empty street and with nowhere else to go, made my way to The Royal Oak. I had no intention of drowning my sorrows, I simply wanted to hear Settledown voices and experience normality. What better place for that than the local pub?
As soon as I entered, my face fell. The place wasn’t just quiet, it was abandoned. There wasn’t a soul in sight: even Ted’s seat at the bar was vacant. Checking my watch, my shoulders slumped. I hadn’t realised quite how late it was.
Alex suddenly appeared from a room behind the bar. Jingling the set of keys in his hand, he cocked his head and smiled. ‘What time do you call this? I was just about to lock up.’
As he walked towards me, I mustered a smile of my own, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tears welling in my eyes. ‘No worries.’ I turned to leave.
‘Hey.’ Alex rushed over to stop me from going any further.
Willing myself not to cry, I didn’t know if his concern made me feel better or worse.
‘I only said I’m closing. Not that you can’t have a drink.’ He bolted the door shut. ‘Come on. Glass of white, is it?’
I nodded, appreciative.
He guided me to the bar and peeling off my coat, put both it and my bag down on a table.
I hoisted myself onto a stool and watched Alex grab two glasses.
‘Mind if I join you?’ Without waiting for an answer, he filled both anyway and bringing them with him, joined me on my side of the bar.
‘Tough night?’ he asked.
I lifted my drink and again, nodded. ‘You could say that.’
‘How is Richard?’ Alex appeared genuinely concerned.
‘News travels fast,’ I said – not that I was surprised word had got out.
‘It does when there’s an ambulance involved.’
I dreaded to think what tales were already being made up. I smiled. ‘He’s going to be fine.’
Alex visibly relaxed. ‘That’s good to hear.’ He clinked his glass against mine and we both took a drink.
I pictured Richard pale and weak in his hospital bed while Joyce, with her bloodshot eyes and cheeks drained of colour, eased him forward so she could plump up his pillows. ‘He’s actually doing well considering.’
‘And Joyce? How’s she bearing up?’
‘She’s okay too.’
Alex stared straight ahead. ‘And you?’
Until that night, I hadn’t realised how much of Gran’s death I’d held on to. How, rather than deal with my grief, I’d buried it deep inside of me. I’d focused on practical things like renovating The Knitting Nook and decorating the flat. I’d put time and energy into my relationship with Gideon. What I hadn’t done is give myself the emotional space needed to properly mourn and being back at the hospital had brought all my suppressed anguish to the surface. ‘I’ve had better evenings.’
