told me you were very capable. But that he didn’t want you to have to do it all alone.’
Grace said nothing.
‘He wanted to make sure that you’d be OK after he’d gone,’ said Pat.
‘Yes. Yes, I get that.’
‘So, if there’s anything at all I can do . . .’
‘You’re kind to offer,’ said Grace. ‘But the truth is, I was the one who organised everything around the house. And if anyone needed advice, it was me who gave it.’
‘I kind of suspected that might be the case,’ said Pat. ‘After all, I knew Ken.’ He smiled at her, and Grace couldn’t help smiling in return.
‘It was nice to see you again,’ she said after she’d drained her coffee cup. ‘And thank you for carrying out your designated duty so conscientiously.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He stood up and she did the same. ‘I do realise that you’re perfectly capable of coping on your own. But I also know there’s more to life than coping. I’ve discovered that over the past few years. You have to get out and live it. I’d really like it if we could keep in touch. Perhaps meet up from time to time. Have dinner. Go to the theatre. That sort of thing.’
‘Perhaps.’ Should she feel complimented by the fact that Ken’s friend seemed to be hitting on her? wondered Grace. Unless Ken had asked him to. In which case it was a bit insulting.
‘I could call you later in the week,’ he suggested.
‘I’m not really in that frame of mind right now,’ she said. ‘Besides, I’m going back to Spain for a while.’
‘Oh.’ Pat looked disappointed. ‘Tell you what, I’ll send you a message if I see a play or a concert I think might interest you. If you’re around, you can think about it. No commitment either way.’
‘Sure,’ said Grace. She shook hands and walked out of the café. Pat Rice was a decent man, she acknowledged. But she didn’t want to form a relationship with another academic, no matter how decent he was. She’d done that already.
Nor was she going to let Ken manage her future relationships.
She could do that all by herself.
Chapter 35
Sutton, Dublin, Ireland: 5.3389°N 6.1103°W
As soon as she arrived home, Grace sat at the kitchen table and inserted the USB into the laptop.
There was a delay while the little wheel spun around and she was afraid that perhaps Ken had forgotten to leave her a final password clue. But eventually a screen opened with a link to yet another video.
Once again the light seemed to emphasise the lines on Ken’s face and the fact that he was even more gaunt than in the last recording. His expression was serious. She hit pause, went to the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. She uncorked it, poured herself a large glass and took a gulp before she pressed play again.
‘So,’ Ken said. ‘Here we are for the final time, Hippo. You and me. Face to face. I hope it hasn’t taken you too long to work it all out. I gave you till July. Did you get it done more quickly? It infuriates me that I don’t know. That I’ll never know. But I’ve moved on, and so have you. I hope you won’t forget me, though. I hope you’ll always remember the good times we had together. I want to have been the most important man in your life.
‘If I had to sum up my own life, Hippo, it’s been good. That’s why I’m so frustrated by this cruel disease. I have so much more to offer and now I won’t have the chance. I’ve done things I’m proud of. I had a successful career. I gave lectures in many different places. I’m a critically acclaimed author. And I have a wonderful family.
‘A lot of that is down to you. I always knew that, but I never thanked you for making it the way it was. I suppose I should have. But I’ve never been much of a person for saying thanks.
‘So somewhat late, I do thank you for being the person you are. For being the kind of person who puts other people ahead of herself. Me, the kids, even Brett, the dog I know you never wanted and that you ended up having to look after – whatever we wanted was always ahead of whatever you wanted. You let me be the man I wanted to be and you raised our children to be their own people too. And none