“Crossing Hungerford Bridge to the Southbank.” I join her, remembering. “Coven Garden.”
“The rattle of trains going past at rush hour, the people going up and down steps in and out of stations. My phone ringing, deadlines, I loved it! You know my last project?” Her voice cracks making her pause for a moment. “It was about people who lose their jobs though injury or illness and have everything taken away from them and they need to find a new start.” Tears trickle from her eyes. “What did I know about losing everything? An entire life you loved going over a cliff in an instant. I think someone in the universe wanted to punish me for my arrogance, to teach me what loss really means.”
The urge to comfort her, to take her in my arms, is so strong, I’m halfway out of my chair before stopping myself.
The last thing she needs is someone taking her to bed. Yet, that is the only way I know to offer comfort. I make myself sit back down and find the right words to console her.
Nothing comes to mind.
Come on they don’t have to be the right words; any words will do.
But when I open my mouth, the wrong words come out. “My brother passed away ten weeks ago.”
She glances up, momentarily distracted. “Oh… I’m sorry.”
“It was unexpected. He had cancer, which he kept from everyone. I only found out when it was too late.” Now I’ve started talking, I can’t seem to stop.
“And he left me this house. His last request was for me to live here for a year, if I can.”
“So, you gave up the busy life you loved to move here?” Her voice is gentle with understanding.
It makes my chest hurt. An iron band around my heart.
“What was he like, you brother?” she asks so softly, it’s like a tender touch.
“He was a physiotherapist, specialised in stroke victims. I didn’t understand why he chose it, but now you mention injury and loss of…” I rub a hand down my chest to ease the tightness. “I think that was Liam all over, working with someone who lost everything. His last patient was Lord Du Montfort, the Seigneur of this island. From the little he said about his patient, the man had been a lion before his stroke – abon vivantwho enjoyed a good life. Then one tiny blood clot robbed him of everything.”
“And did your brother manage to help him?”
I shrug. “He talked to me at the funeral. He said Liam had shown him that even in a wheelchair, he could still go out and live.”
“Your brother sounds like a wonderful man. I wish I’d met him. I could do with hope right now.”
Her words make the iron band around my heart tighten and pushes me to get up and start clearing the table. I put away the uneaten food in the fridge, one of the few things Liam did manage to buy for the house. A large fridge freezer, big enough for a family. A family Liam must have known he would never have. I push the freezer door shut very firmly and lean on it for a moment.
Behind me, there’s a clatter of dishes in the sink.
“You don’t have to wash up.”
“Please let me do something. I need to feel active.”
Between us, we have the kitchen spotless very quickly.
“How about a brandy?” I hang the tea towel back on the Aga.
“Maybe.” She hesitates.
“Or cognac” – I open the liqueur cupboard to survey the contents – “Disaronno, Baileys, Grand Marnier.” I move another bottle out of the way and look behind it. “Courvoisier?”
“My, aren’t you well stocked with alcohol.”
“All gifts. People must think I need solace. Or they think musicians are alcoholics.”
She steps closer, giving me a whiff of her perfume. A subtle floral fragrance.
“You can’t mean villagers sent you expensive liqueurs?” She selects the Disaronno.
I take it from her and look for glasses. “Actually, these came from friends of my brother’s: a photographer, the head of a silk workshop, and the local doctor. As far as I know, none were local. All new settlers, would you believe?” I pour us both a small measure. “Can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would come from the mainland and settle here on the island.” I hand her a glass.
