I Should Be So Lucky (21 page)

‘No, I’ll leave them. I love them. So where had you been out gardening at one in the morning?’

‘Council offices – they’ve given up on the window boxes. Something to do with the cuts, I suppose, and no one’s so far been Big Society enough to take them over, apart from me. People are such lazy bastards. I had a few plants left over, which you’ve now got.’

‘You’ll get arrested one day, going around doing illicit digging.’

‘I’ve already been arrested, remember? And more than once now, too.’ He was teasing her again. Why did he always seem to be laughing at her?

‘Yes, but …’

‘Yes, but … wait till you come out and try it with me. It’s fun. Gardening is so much more fun when it’s the secret variety, and not just lawn-mowing duty and boring old weeding at home. This way, you get a sense of adventure about it. It’s a bit more Famous Five than
SAS
, though without the big dog and the lashings of ginger beer, obviously. You did say you were up for it, so when shall we go?’

The mention of boring old weeding made Viola think of the plant-strangled tangle and the out-of-control lawn that was the Bell Cottage garden. It was going to be quite an under taking to sort out. Perhaps Greg could advise her whether she should deal with it in small manageable doses or take the equivalent of a flame-thrower to it.

‘Well – I know I said yes but, you know, I’m not really sure … What about your wife?’

‘
What
wife? I already told you, I don’t have one.’

‘I meant … Mickey. You’ve got the same name.’ It sounded feeble. ‘Is she your sister, then?’

‘
Sister?
No, she’s my aunt.’ He was laughing at her. Mickey had looked younger than Greg. ‘Auntie Mickey and I have totally separate lives. End of story, nothing to add. So come on, you know by now I’m not really a crazed axeman. You can even bring your mother if you’d feel safer.’

‘Er … no, I think not! And what do you mean, “Auntie” Mickey?’

‘Exactly what I said. But don’t ever tell her I call her that. So are we on? I mean, just say no and I’ll leave you alone. But I’m only inviting you to bung in a few bulbs; if you’re worried about your saintly virtue, I promise the only filth will be the earth under your fingernails.’ He
was
sounding sarcastic now, running out of patience, and she didn’t blame him.

Well, she had promised herself she’d accept every single invitation … and he did come firmly under the heading of Just a Friend, so it wouldn’t be like a
date
. Also, grovelling about in the dirt under cover of darkness wasn’t exactly the fast route to becoming an adulterous woman.

‘OK. I’ll come. Let me think … I’m moving back to my own house at the weekend,’ she told him. ‘So … maybe after Tuesday or later in the week, once I’m actually in and organized?’

‘Fine,’ Greg said. ‘Give me your new address and I’ll pick you up, say, on Thursday night? Wear something dark, bring your own dibber.’

Something dark. What-to-wear instructions … again. That was where the day had started. But she felt pretty sure that this promised to be a lot more fun than a wedding that involved Afghanistan and something catastrophic about a
leg
.

EIGHTEEN

‘YOUR MAIL’S HERE
on the table,’ Naomi said to Viola as the two of them crossed in the hallway. Naomi was dusting – very gently, as if tending a delicate baby – the tops of the three Oliver Stonebridge paintings that hung there. ‘You’ll want to hurry up and get it redirected or it’ll be coming here till next year. You know what they’re like. Red tape and bureaucrats.’ She spat the last words with the kind of much-relished disgust that she also kept for the local council’s ever-changing rules on recycling, adults who ride bikes on pavements and the ineptitude of every farmer in
The Archers
.

‘You’re right. I’ll sort that in the morning,’ Viola promised. ‘And, Mum? Are you really sure you’ll be all right here on your own again? Maybe Miles has got a point. Perhaps …’

‘No!’ Naomi almost roared at her and raised her lime-green feather duster as if she intended to shove it down
Viola’s
throat. ‘You and Rachel, GO! Shoo! I’m more than happy with my own company and when I decide I’m not then I’ll get someone into the flat; maybe one of Kate’s boys would like it if they get a job that needs an easy commute into town. It would suit me, that. And then if I ever get properly doddery I’ll be able to get someone a bit medical in – some care in exchange for free accommodation. Bills excluded, obviously. I’ve thought it through, don’t you worry.’

Viola was having serious second thoughts. This seemed all wrong, leaving Naomi alone in this increasingly ramshackle house. But she also understood the attachment to the much-loved and familiar.

‘And before you start on about that place of Monica’s again,’ Naomi went on, ‘yes, those flats are very nice. But I can’t sell this and I don’t intend to.
And
, like I said before, I don’t want a bunch of workmen poking about in here looking for things to mend, so don’t send any in, whatever Miles and Kate say. Everything works fine just now. Once you start mucking about with it, every last thing’ll pack up. Houses do that. They get cross with you for prodding.’

‘But it must cost a fortune to run this house. However do you …’

‘Never you mind.’ Naomi cut off her question and waved her away, dust wafting from the green feathers. ‘Do I ask you about your finances? No, I don’t. Family money, is all I’ll say.’ And she tapped the side of her nose
like
an actor playing the kind of dodgy car salesman who’s being wily about mileage.

‘Ah well, Kate’s doing the family tree, so maybe she’ll find out where it all came from,’ Viola teased her, flicking through the little heap of post. Dentist reminder, a gas bill for Bell Cottage and what looked like a birthday card, except it wouldn’t be hers for several months. She’d seen the handwriting before, on the card at the cottage. Had the sender signed this one? Maybe now she’d find out who to thank.

‘Kate shouldn’t go meddling,’ Naomi said, dusting briskly between the banisters. ‘What does she want to go rooting about in the past for? It’s no more than making a useless list of the dead. She’d do better to look to her future, that one. She could do a lot worse than go to Shape Sorters and yoga and trim herself down a bit. Everything you eat at her age tends to stick. And there’s plenty sticking on her at the moment. Comfort food, that’s her trouble. And I’ll tell her if I’m asked, which I hope I’m not. We don’t want any more disasters.’

Only half listening, Viola opened the white envelope and pulled out a greetings card – a cutesy black and white photo of two tabby kittens curled up cosily together in a bathroom sink. She really must make a list, she thought, and getting her mail redirected back to Bell Cottage would have to be near the top of it – she was starting the moving process in the morning.

‘
He’ll always be there
’ was written inside the card. No
signature
. Viola looked at the sweet kittens on the front as if half expecting them to spit and snarl at her. But their innocent little faces remained the same and they just stared back prettily. Rereading the message, she felt rather sick and clammy and went and sat on the stairs, her legs trembling. A little detached part of her wondered why the sender hadn’t gone the whole anonymous-drama hog and cut out individual letters from a magazine and glued them on, like something from the kind of crime novel her mother loved. So what was this – was it all going to start again, like before? Who would do such a cruel, spiteful thing?

Whoever it was must have been watching her going back and forth from Bell Cottage and put two and two together about her moving back in. Hellish. What would be next? More ugly plastic-wrapped carnations tied to the magnolia with florist’s raffia? Prayer flags that would quickly turn to muddy shreds? Curled-edged photos of Rhys smouldering at the camera for all he was worth in his
Doctors and Nurses
costume scrubs?

‘Anything nice in the post?’ Naomi had stopped dusting and was eyeing the assorted papers in Viola’s hands.

‘No, just the usual junk, nothing special,’ Viola managed to say, getting up and moving towards the door of the flat. ‘I’ll just do a bit more packing,’ she mumbled, needing to escape, but Naomi was now adjusting the Staffordshire dogs on the hall table, giving each of them a pat after she’d dusted, her interest
moved
on. Good – because she didn’t want to talk about this. Naomi would only worry, and she might say something to Kate and Miles and accidentally load them with a chunk of ammunition to keep Viola from moving on with an independent life.

Viola went into the flat holding the card between the very tips of her thumb and finger, reluctant to have closer contact with it. She should, she knew, keep it somewhere safe, in case there was worse to come and it would add to evidence of … what? Stalking? Harassment? And yet – the urge simply to rip it up and bin it was overwhelming. She folded the kitten picture to the inside, for who but the hardest sort could tear those tiny furry faces to shreds without a qualm? She was just about to make the first rip when the flat door opened.

‘Hi, Mum! Is it OK if I just pick up some stuff and go over to Emmy’s?’ Rachel’s eyes were bright, expectant, hoping for a ‘yes’ answer.

‘Er … hmm, I don’t know. Let me think.’ Viola watched Rachel’s face fall. What kind of excuse could she come up with for ‘no’? The truth was she just wanted Rachel to stay close and safe beside her. But this wasn’t about Rachel; it wasn’t fair to involve her. She made a little more effort, just managing to overcome the feeling that, really, she was about to keel over.

‘Yes – OK, why not? Back later this evening though, OK? I need to move some more things back to the
house
before Marco’s lot bring the vanload from the storage lock-up, and you’ve got to sort out what to keep separate from the house-packing for when you go to Ireland.’

‘Ace! And thanks!’ Rachel bounded across and hugged her mother. Viola pushed the card behind her back and gave Rachel a hard, fond squeeze.

‘Ouch, Mum! You’re squishing me!’ Rachel laughed, breaking away.

‘Sorry – just affection.’ Viola tried to laugh along with her, but could feel her mouth twisting all wrong. ‘Off you go then, and say hello to Emmy’s mum for me.’

‘I will! Hey, we’re going home soon! Yay, can’t wait! And more yay for holidayyy!’

So there it was, Viola thought as the door slammed shut. She couldn’t back out of the move now, even if she wanted to. And she definitely didn’t. She glanced at the treacherous kittens again, then took the card into her bedroom and stuffed it into the pocket at the back of her laptop bag. She just hoped there wouldn’t be any more joining it. But there probably would.

‘I still think you’re mad,’ Kate told Viola as the two of them unpacked a boxload of cutlery into newly scrubbed kitchen drawers at Bell Cottage. The whole of the downstairs area seemed to be a jungle of cardboard boxes. Viola couldn’t believe how fast Marco’s team of helpers had unloaded everything from the hire van, but
now
she could also hardly believe she’d ever get through the sorting process. Somewhere around Christmas would be her best guess. Rachel was still out with Emmy doing whatever important teenage things always mysteriously come up when a bout of hard physical graft is needed, but had promised to turn up later in the afternoon to unpack the boxes that were now waiting in her room. All she’d done so far was hang up the latest selection of knitwear she was trimming up for Gemma’s stall and leave a heap of clothes on the landing for the laundry fairies to deal with.

‘I know you do. And looking at this lot that needs doing, I’m half inclined to agree,’ Viola told Kate as she cut another drawer liner to the right size and smoothed it into place. ‘But this is my real, proper home, the only one I’ve ever actually put together myself, and I want to get on with living in it again. For over a year now it’s been like a limbo thing, waiting for something, escaping from something. If I don’t give this a go I’ll just be a … I don’t know, a
blob
, something passive and lifeless for ever. I also made a promise to myself to go out as much as I can, accept every invite. And I have been, just lately. No more hiding under a stone and letting life drift by. For one thing, it’s not a great role model of Strong Capable Woman for Rachel, is it?’

Hmm, she thought but didn’t say: and look how well
that’s
turning out so far … A stolen bag, an arrest and a gatecrashed wedding with her knickers off. Top
entertainment
by anyone’s standards. But, the lurking Pollyanna in her brain encouraged her, surely it can only get better?

‘Yes, but
here
.’ Kate sliced open another box and started on the crockery. ‘Why does it have to be
here
? You could live anywhere. Somewhere new, for a fresh start. It would still be all yours, even more so. I mean, even apart from …
Rhys
… this is still a bit Marco too, isn’t it? Much as I’m fond of him, he’s
past
, surely. Yet his paint-colour suggestions are all over it, I can tell.’

‘Oh, leave it, Kate,
please
! Rachel and I just want to come back home and get back to some kind of normal. Can’t you just be the teeniest bit positive for us?’ She’d felt so excited about moving back home – in spite of the sick-making card in the post – till Kate had turned up, volunteering to help. The house was all new paint and a feeling of bright optimism. She didn’t need or want any kind of downer.

‘It can’t ever be completely normal, though, can it?’ Kate persisted as she loaded plates into the rack on the wall beside the sink. ‘Not really. Don’t you still see Rhys in it, everywhere you look? Don’t you half expect to see him on the stairs or coming in through the front door? Won’t you feel utterly, hugely, heartbroken that he
doesn’t
?’ Kate’s eyes were wet with emotion, as if she were trying to show Viola what
she
should be feeling.

Viola stopped rifling through the box, a colander in one hand and her favourite conical sieve in the other.