The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,35
by teatime!’
I sighed. Defeated.
‘OK, I’ll give it a go.’
Fenella was about to make more tea but I stood up to leave. She followed me into the hallway and handed me my coat and the walking boots.
‘Thanks so much for the food,’ I said with a smile. ‘You’re an absolute life saver.’ I put on my hat. ‘What time shall I come back, later?’
‘Seven o clock all right for you? The rest of the village will be tucked up in front of the telly or at the pub by then! Stray tourists don’t matter, not that there are many around this year, what with not bothering with the light festival and everything.’
‘Seven is fine.’
I stepped towards the door and put on my gloves.
‘Oh, before you go,’ she said, suddenly less bright. ‘You wouldn’t do me another little favour would you?’
I looked at her, standing there in her tabard and Christmas jumper. She really was such a sweet woman. I felt like I’d known her for a year, not an hour. I smiled.
‘What?’
‘Put Monty on Mother’s knee, will you? I haven’t had the heart to do it, but I think it’s time.’
I crossed the room, picked up Monty and placed him in his final resting place, on the kitchen shelf.
‘There you go, Monty,’ I said, ‘Time for a little rest.’
I turned to look at the dog bed by the Aga.
‘What about everything else … the bed, and the lead and everything. Do you want me to tidy them away?’
Fenella looked around and fought very hard to hold back the tears.
‘Not just yet, love,’ she said, glancing towards Monty’s photograph. ‘One thing at a time, eh?’
I thought of James and the things I had left littered around the house. I put my arms around her.
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘There’s no hurry. No hurry at all.’
Feeling my arms around her, Fenella began to cry – big heaving sobs of grief. Because that’s the thing with grief, it’s like the sand that gets stuck between your toes after the beach, you can never brush it all off in one go. And just when you think you got rid of it all, a little grain will still be there, catching on your sandal. One minute you’re dunking a Wagon Wheel talking about gin, and the next thing someone unexpectedly puts their arms around you and you feel a bit of sand rub your toe and it’s back to square one.
She set me off.
‘I’m so very lonely,’ I suddenly confessed, still leaning forwards, not sure whether I was holding Fenella or if she was holding me.
Fenella nodded into my chest and stepped back. She grabbed the warm tea towel off of the Aga rail and dabbed my eyes and then hers. It was quite a congested tea towel by this point.
‘You’re too young to be a widow. Far too young. But listen … we might be a bunch of cantankerous, argumentative old so-and-so’s hereabouts, but you’ve come to the right place. No one is ever on their own at Angels Cove, Katherine. Never. You’ll see that I’m right. Now why don’t you go for a good walk and clear your head a bit. You’ve got your new boots now.’
I found a stray hanky in my coat pocket and blew my nose.
‘Walk? I wouldn’t know where to go?’
‘Any path out of the village will take you somewhere lovely, and anyway, it doesn’t matter where you go, any dog will tell you that. Just sniff the air and enjoy it.’
As I turned the door handle and prepared to step outside, I realised that the moment I rested dear Monty’s ashes on the shelf, something inside both of us had clicked, the energy had changed. There was a sudden feeling of … of moving forwards. The door opened and as I took two steps out of the house the sun took two steps in and flooded Fenella with light. She looked just like an angel, and, in a way, she was. Stepping away from the cottage, in this strange village miles away from home and a little unsure of where to go, I thought suddenly of Edward and realised Fenella was right. It didn’t matter in which direction I walked, all that mattered was to walk with purpose, even if the destination was a vague one. And as I walked away from the house not really sure of where I was headed, I felt the eyes of Juliet looking down on me and wondered if she was with me, somehow, and