The Last Letter from Juliet - Melanie Hudson Page 0,93

I’m not feeling particularly well tonight. A kind of hushed daze seems to have overwhelmed me and I think it’s best if I rest tomorrow. As you know there are three more ammunition boxes out there. I have written down the locations, attached to this letter, and I wonder if you might take a trip out on your own, see if you can find them? I hope and pray the compass is in one of them, but that search is beyond me now and if you don’t find it, please don’t worry, I know I’m going to have to let it go.

Sam has messaged to say that he is on his way home and I hope – more than anything I have hoped for in my life – that he is able to take me flying, which is another reason for resting up today, because I need the energy to fly, one last time.

I’ll rest up now and save my energy for the big day!

With all the love in the world,

Juliet.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Yvonne asked as I stared blankly out of the office window, my glazed eyes skimming over the expanse of lawn and down towards the sea.

I smiled, put my hands on my knees and stood to leave. ‘No – thanks, Yvonne. I’ll be getting on my way.’

She put a hand on my shoulder, her face was the picture of pity.

‘I think you probably realise now that Minack was a bad idea, but don’t feel badly,’– so this was the tack she’d decided to take – ‘But if you don’t mind, we’ll keep her inside from now on and make sure she’s taken care of properly, get her back up to strength. Perhaps it would be best to let her stay here for Christmas Day, I’ll explain it all to Mr Lanyon if you like.’

I paused at the door and smiled.

‘I don’t feel badly about yesterday. Not at all. Even if she’d died at the Minack – even if her wheelchair had gone careering down the steps and she’d plummeted head-first into the sea – she’d have loved every minute of it. Juliet was – is – an Attagirl! I’ll be back tomorrow with Mr Lanyon to take her flying.’ I opened the door. ‘Goodbye, Yvonne.’

***

The remainder of the day saw me walking miles and miles along the coastal path looking for the ammunition boxes. And I found them, too. One at Kynance Cove, one at the Lizard and the final one under a twisted oak on the banks of the Helford. Despite the dank morning, the mist cleared by eleven only to be replaced by a delicious Cornish blue sky. It was a wonderful day. A day of adventure and promise, of retracing Juliet’s footsteps. I wished I’d met her twenty years ago, when we could have talked for hours and I could have picked her sharp brain about so many things. I wanted to tap into her experiences. Juliet had moved on to consider bigger, more universal questions in her later years and I wondered, was this out of a genuine scientific interest on her behalf, or if she simply want to prove to herself that heaven really did exist – and that Edward, in whatever form, existed too and really was out there waiting for her? I also wanted to ask, how can you tell about love? How do you know who to walk through eternity with? What if I moved on with someone new, only to meet a smiling James at the pearly gates and have to tell him that I’d fallen in love again, that my love hadn’t been reserved only for him, after all? I sat on the cliffs at the Lizard, with a box stuffed with yet more twenty-pound notes sitting next to me, and remembered our wedding vows, to love and to cherish, till death us do part. And Death had parted us, which left me, what? Released from the agreement? Free?

My day of coddiwompling ended just before sunset with an hour at Fenella’s. We needed to finalise arrangements for the Boxing Day party and I wanted to talk to her about Juliet, too.

I took my usual place at the kitchen table and waited to be fed.

Fenella, sporting yet another Christmas jumper (a chirpy-looking snowman with little flashing lights), dropped an un-iced Christmas cake onto the table in front of me with a thud. The cake had an inconsistent texture on the top, like it had been