almost manic a few weeks ago, arranging the funeral like a whirling dervish, putting a notice welcoming all comers in the village shop, rushing from one thing to the next – beetling away from my husband’s grave – had left me now. Something else had moved in. I felt very cold. Very numb. Had done for over a week now. Ten days, to be precise. Ever since that knock upon the door. It was as if I needed to sit here forever, all day, just to conserve energy. I managed quite well when the children were around, forced myself to be chirpy, but most evenings, and in the mornings when Archie was asleep, I sat here, in this chair.
‘Right, well, that’s all organized. Tomorrow at four. OK?’ Jennie went to pocket her mobile, but it rang. ‘Hello …’ She swung away to hide her face. ‘Yes … yes, I’ve done it,’ she said quietly as if the eagle had landed. ‘Pretty low still, I’m afraid.’
‘Who was that?’ I asked absently.
‘Um, Peggy. Wanted to know if I was, er … going to the shops. Now, shall I put it in your calendar?’
‘If you must.’
Clearly. Within a twinkling she’d flicked over a page muttering something about me being a week behind, and was pencilling it in, then underlining it for good measure.
‘OK?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’
‘And I’ve put a shepherd’s pie in the fridge for you. That’s if you’re absolutely sure you won’t come over.’
‘Absolutely sure.’
Jennie asked me over pretty much every night, as did Angie and Peggy. I’d been to Jennie’s a lot in the first few weeks, taken the baby alarm with me, but recently I was happy with my chair.
‘Although I couldn’t help noticing there was one in there already.’
‘One what?’
‘Shepherd’s pie.’
Ah. She’d put it there at the weekend. And I’d forgotten to give it to the children.
I sighed. ‘I like crackers, Jennie. So does Clemmie. But thanks. I appreciate it, really I do.’
She gave me that hassled, worried look I’d seen a lot lately. I pulled my dressing gown around me and tucked a lank piece of hair behind my ear. I did hope she was all right. Had Dan been stopped for speeding again? He’d only just got his licence back. I must remember to ask her. To enquire. But somehow, dredging up words about anything these days was hard. Where did they come from, all those words? I’d see women gossiping in the street – what about? Such an effort. Like washing my hair. Or going to the village shop. God, it was miles, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten we lived so far away. Lucky Jennie, who was just that bit closer. Five yards at least.
‘And I thought I’d walk up to the nursery with you later.’
‘You don’t have any children at the nursery.’
Jennie’s children were older: Jamie, twelve, and Hannah, seven, were both at the local school, which didn’t chuck out until three-thirty.
‘I know, but Leila could do with the exercise. And I daren’t go back into the forest with her.’
Leila had been known to chase the deer up there, an offence which carried a fifty-pound penalty from the deer warden, who had threatened to shoot to kill next time. ‘Can I watch?’ had been Jennie’s riposte. I’d been with Jennie on this last occasion, when, as usual, she’d foolishly let the dog off the lead, then, as usual, spent the next half-hour crashing through undergrowth hissing, ‘Leila! Leila, you bitch, come here!’ Not too loud, you understand, so as not to alert the warden. We’d crashed about some more, when suddenly, in the distance, there’d been an ominous rumble of thundering hooves. To get the full Serengeti effect you have to imagine the stampeding does, the whites of their eyes, the clouds of dust as we flattened ourselves against a tree, pulling Archie’s pushchair in sharpish, and then, in their wake, an Irish terrier, shooting us a delighted look, tongue lolling, galloping joyously. Obviously the warden was crashing through the bracken moments later in his Land Rover, puce in the face with rage, and obviously Jennie was given a fine on the spot and sensibly hadn’t been back. But still, a walk to the nursery, two minutes up the hill, hardly constituted exercise for our Leila. And don’t be deceived by the terrier word, incidentally. With Irish before it, it’s more like a small horse.
I sighed. ‘OK,’ I said obediently, as I tended to these days.
‘And then, later on, I thought you might like to come to