by Katy Colins
Callum’s garden had given me a sense of purpose. I think it had for him too. I went some evenings after work, noticing that he’d been busy weeding or tying plants to stakes in the ground. At the weekends I usually stayed until the last light. We’d then sit on his decking as the sun fell, eating a salad I’d rustled up from our home-grown vegetables. I imagined him in the evenings, once I’d gone, standing in his shorts and flip-flops, spraying the garden hose over the grass or checking on the chicken wire we’d put up to stop foxes snacking on the strawberries. I began to notice muscles in his upper arms and shoulders that had come to life from dragging the lawnmower around or tugging at stubborn weeds.
There were no difficult questions asked, no small talk to make, and any prickly topics were avoided at all costs. We both immersed ourselves in our respective tasks, feeling the solidity of the ground beneath our knees and the damp earth between our fingers. This reconnection with nature was bordering on healing, for both of us.
I was sure that I’d even heard him singing to the plants under his breath on more than one occasion, encouraging them to grow. He would be mortified if he knew. Freckles had popped out over my nose and my once-strong, pillar box-red hair had faded into a more of a strawberry blonde. I think I preferred this look.
Doctor Ahmed had once mentioned having a project to keep busy with and stop me overthinking, and coming up with ideas for Callum’s garden may have helped. I’d been researching plants and trees and low-maintenance vegetable patches that I was excited about implementing. Whatever it was, my mood was a little brighter. Callum also seemed more together. He’d tamed his beard, had been wearing uncreased T-shirts, and I’m sure one day I’d caught the faint whiff of aftershave.
We worked in a comfortable silence alongside each other. Moving around with an ease I was growing used to. The only things unsaid were his dead wife sitting in the cupboard under the kitchen sink, and the baby I’d lost. We’d never spoken further about Abbie, or what had moved him to pick up the phone and admit his doubts over her death to me, that night after his party. We never discussed what I’d been through.
‘Did you say we should get some climbing vines? To go up the trellis?’ I couldn’t help but smile at his furrowed brow, as he held up two identical plants.
‘Yep, if you think so?’
This was the first time we’d been out in public together. We’d come to a garden centre in Hillside, a location I’d suggested, knowing it would minimise the chances of bumping into anyone he would know. Tongues would wag and eyebrows be raised if others saw us out together, especially doing something as mundane as plant shopping. I wondered if he was aware of this too.
‘You know, I never gave you your birthday present,’ I said, as we wandered down the narrow aisles, blooming bushes on either side, the heady scent of perfume in the air.
‘You didn’t need to get me a present.’
‘Well, the truth is, I wasn’t sure how you would feel about what I wanted to give you.’
He looked confused.
I’d purposefully led us through to the fledgling trees section, hoping this was the right thing to do.
‘I thought maybe we could plant a tree in your garden… for Abbie?’
I paused, holding my breath for his reaction.
‘Yeah…’ He scratched his chin, looking as if he wanted to say something, but not finding the words.
‘I thought cherry blossom might be nice? But, if you don’t think…’
‘No, I think it’s a good idea.’
I let out the breath I’d been holding and watched him choose a suitable tree to put on the low trolley between us.
‘It’s already blossomed this year, but if we plant it now it’ll have time to establish over the autumn and winter, and then next spring…’
‘How about we get one for your son too?’ he asked, his voice so quiet I thought I’d misheard him. ‘I’m really sorry about what happened.’
I swallowed down the rock that had leapt up from nowhere, feeling that familiar clogging of my throat.
‘Thank you, but this is about you, not me.’
‘Grace?’ A voice I knew interrupted whatever Callum was about to say. ‘I thought it was you!’
I glanced up to see Linda walking towards us. The smile on her painted lips faltered as she saw who I was with.
Please don’t remember him. Please don’t remember him.
‘Oh, hi, Linda. Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you were on holiday?’
I stepped away from Callum, as if by creating a distance she wouldn’t place him. I sensed Callum shifting beside me, confused by my reaction. Saliva pooled in my mouth, my heart began to race.
She shook her head. ‘I fly out tomorrow morning. Sun, sea and sangria, here I come!’
I nodded and tried to plaster a smile on my flushed face.
‘You not going to introduce me? I’m Linda. I work with Grace,’ Linda reached across me. My nostrils filled with her sickly-sweet perfume. She shook Callum’s hand. I couldn’t work out if she was doing this because she knew exactly who he was or if she genuinely couldn’t remember meeting him before.
‘Callum, I’m a… a friend of Grace’s.’
‘You look very familiar, Callum.’ There was an ugly silence as she tilted her head to one side, trying to figure out the missing piece in the puzzle. I eventually met her eye and saw the challenge there.
She knew. Of course she knew.
‘Well –’
Callum was about to speak but was cut off by a loud ringing sound coming from Linda’s garish, diamanté handbag – the one she’d bought on a girls’ holiday to Turkey, that I knew for a fact was a counterfeit, despite her protestations.
I tried to pass a look to Callum, but he was staring off into the distance. To the outside world we looked like a couple doing mundane weekend things like strolling around a garden centre, forgetting the fact that a tree, in tribute to his dead wife, was proudly standing between us.
‘Hi, Denise. Yeah, I’m on my way. Alright, love, see you there!’ she shrilled down the line, tapping the screen with one of her fake nails. Her phone was in a bejewelled case that also held her credit cards. I’d told her that I didn’t think it was sensible, keeping all your valuable in one place, but she hadn’t listened to my worries.
‘Better go. I’m meeting my friend in the coffee shop here. They do a wonderful Victoria sponge. Nice to meet you, Callum. I’ll see you when I’m back, Grace.’ With another knowing look, laden with a warning, she spun on her heels and click-clacked away.
I felt like I needed to sit down. My legs had suddenly gone all wobbly; they couldn’t possibly support my weight.
‘Grace, are you OK?’
‘Fine.’
I’m not fine. I could be in so much trouble if Linda decided to tell Frank who I’d been seeing out of work. In an instant, we weren’t Callum and Grace, unlikely friends, but Callum, the grieving widower and Grace, the funeral arranger, overstepping the mark with a client’s trust.
I decided right then and there that I would help unload the tree and other plants from his car and then head home. I needed to put some distance between us. If Linda thought there was something between me and Callum, then others surely would too. I hated that I felt the need to do this but I didn’t have much choice. He would understand.
Despite the awkwardness with Callum, my mood lifted, thanks to seeing my phone buzz when I got home. I couldn’t help but smile to myself when I saw Daniel’s name on my screen. In his short text he asked to meet me next Friday for a drink. He had something he hoped I could help him with. I’d have to miss a Grief Club, but Ms Norris was more than capable of standing in for me. Speaking of whom, she would be very pleased that I was going for a drink with an eligible man, no matter how casual and confusing the offer was. She was right, after all: I wasn’t getting any younger. Maybe this was the sign I needed. A sign that it was time to move on and leave the Andersons alone.
Chapter 29
&nbs
p; ‘Grace, hi!’
A smiling, slightly sweating Daniel was calling my name.
When he’d invited me there at seven o’clock, I’d figured it would be a meeting place before we found a nice cosy pub or relaxed wine bar, not that this was where we were going. The farmers’ and local businesses’ market took over two fields and a patch of woodland in Hillgate. It ran from Friday to Sunday and was a firm favourite in the social calendar for people who wanted to shop local at a premium, to ease their conscience or something. I’d never been keen on buying food from an exposed trestle table in a windy field. Nor would I be helping myself to the free samples, currently sweating on a tray covered in other people’s bacteria, like the hungry couple in front of me were.
I found myself in a small marquee, and spotted Daniel’s sign hanging on the back wall alongside five other creative businesses. A red-headed woman was polishing stained glass, an older couple were trying to pull people in to have a look at the wooden figurines they’d hand-carved, next to a lady with wiry glasses who was selling hand-made smelly candles.
‘Hi’, I said to Daniel. ‘This is… er, different.’
‘Yeah,’ he smiled at the tourists milling past, clutching shopping bags. He scratched the back of his head. ‘It’s been pretty manic and it’s only the first day! I thought I’d be able to get away early but, oh, excuse me –’
He was pulled away by a woman wearing a paisley headscarf, wanting to enquire about one of the smaller prints he had on display. I nodded my understanding but inside I felt confused. I stuck out like a sore thumb in my navy chiffon blouse with glittery stars and skinny jeans, and my new ankle boots were quickly covered in mud. Daniel was in a faded T-shirt, paint-splattered jeans and scuffed trainers. I stood aimlessly at the edge of his stall, waiting for him, feeling like a giant lemon.
‘Sorry about that.’ He rubbed my shoulder, the slight touch jolted me. ‘I really didn’t expect to be this busy, but I’m all yours now.’
‘It’s fine.’ I smiled.
‘Anyway, it’s good to see you. I’ve asked the stallholder next to us if he can keep an eye on things while we go for a quick drink.’
I nodded and tried to keep smiling as he jogged over to give instructions to a man dressed head-to-toe in khaki green. The rigid grin was still stuck to my cheeks when he came back. I was desperate to discover why he had asked me here.
‘Right, you ready? There’s a nice pop-up bar that’s not too far.’
‘After you.’
‘So, do you go to many of these events?’ I narrowly avoided stepping in a pile of dog poo, forcing myself not to think about the state of my new boots.
’Yeah, when I can. It’s good to keep in with the organisers for a bit of free advertising, if nothing else. I tend to sell a few pieces, usually the ones that take no time at all, then encourage the buyer to come to the studio to see my other pieces. Oops, watch that puddle.’ He steered my elbow. ‘It’s nice to be busy and have a change of location, I guess.’
I nodded, making way for a harassed mum who was pushing a double buggy over the uneven terrain. Smells of hot dogs, candy floss and fruity e-cigarette vape fumes wafted up my nose. It was manic with people. I tried to bite down the rising anxiety, as we tried to weave through the swelling crowds dawdling past stalls on their way to the large marquee further down the field. Daniel must have read my mind, or seen the sweat developing at my temple.
‘There’s a shortcut through here. Like I said, I didn’t expect it to be this busy!’
‘You sure you don’t need to get back? I don’t want to keep you from making some sales.’
He shook his head. ‘I was due a break.’
He led me up an overgrown path, cutting through the woodland, holding back brambles for me.
‘You look lovely by the way.’ He smiled at my outfit, quickly pushing a low branch out of the way. The noise and hubbub of the crowd was muffled in here. My heart returned to its normal speed.
‘Oh, thanks.’ I could feel myself blushing. I had to file behind him down the snaking path because of the thick undergrowth around us. ‘So, I’ve been meaning to ask you how well you know the Andersons?’ I couldn’t help myself. And I figured he must be a fairly close family friend to get an invite to the wake. He could surely shed some light on the Owen rumours.
Of course, it was normal for Abbie and Callum to have bickered, like any other married couple. Just because Abbie worked with Owen, it didn’t mean there was anything more between the pair of them, and the missing note from the flowers could be a simple oversight that both Mel and I were reading too much into. But I also hadn’t been able to drop Callum’s concerns that the timings around Abbie’s death didn’t quite add up. A small voice kept telling me that something wasn’t right.
‘Oh, er, I wouldn’t say we were that close.’ I picked up on his hesitation. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ I paused. ‘I mean this is going to sound silly but I just have this feeling that things weren’t quite right.’
‘Right?’ He stopped suddenly, I walked into the back of him.
‘Whoops!’
‘Sorry, there’s, er, a big puddle here. Watch your step.’
We both side-stepped the puddle that was actually the size of a small, muddy lake.
‘It’s just up here. This is a bit of a mad route, sorry!’ He laughed. I don’t know if it was the quietness of the surrounding trees but it sounded hollow and forced.
We fell into silence, focussed on watching our feet along the muddy track. I was about to continue the conversation but was drowned out by the sound of laughter and music playing. The path rejoined a gravelled section and soon we were in a secluded area, away from the main crowds, where a cluster of trailers had been decked out as small bars and coffee carts. Fairy lights hung over rustic wooden picnic tables. A guy was playing a guitar, soft and gentle acoustic versions of popular songs.
‘Worth the trek?’ Daniel asked, his cheeks rosy red in the soft light. I nodded, taking it all in.
We sat down at one of the tables on the edge, far enough away from the musician that we could hear each other. I wrapped my hands around a homemade lemonade; Daniel had gulped down a quarter of his pint already.
‘So,’ he cleared his throat. ‘You were saying something about the Andersons?’
‘It’s probably nothing.’
‘Go on…’
‘Well, you know they say you don’t know what goes on behind closed doors?’ He nodded and took another gulp of his drink. ‘I just get a sense that something else was going on. Their life just seemed so perfect.’
Daniel scoffed. ‘No one is perfect, Grace.’
‘I know, I know.’ I felt foolish for even bringing it up. It made me sound jealous, a trait I wasn’t comfortable with. But the fact remained that Abbie Anderson had seemed, from the outside at least, to be close to perfection.
‘Did you ever meet a guy called Owen Driscoll? He was one of Abbie’s friends…’
Daniel tore his eyes away from the busker and on to me. He scrunched his face up in thought. ‘The name doesn’t ring a bell.’
‘He’s tall, dark, handsome.’ I realised what a cliché this was. ‘Welsh. I think he was a model with Abbie.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t know about all of that. Not my sort of lifestyle!’ He laughed, finished his glass and went to order another, without seeing if I wanted a top-up. While he was gone I pulled myself together. What was I doing delving into the possible inter-marital relations of the Andersons, when I should be getting to know Daniel and focussing on my own life? Let it go, Grace.
‘So, how did you get into counselling?’ he asked as he returned. I was pleased he’d changed the subject, but wished it had been a different topic. ‘I’d been meaning to ask you.’
‘Oh, well… it’s a funny story actually.’
I needed to come clean and tell him what I actually did, the real reason I was at Abbie’s wake that day. My mouth had gone very dry. I was cautious about how he might
take the news.
‘The reason I ask is, well…’ He stopped and held a hand in the air. ‘I know you’re not on duty now, and I’m more than happy to book in for a proper session with you, but the thing is, I just really could do with talking to someone.’
I went to protest again but paused. The cheerful chap who’d been sat before me had left the building. Get up and leave. Tell him that he should find someone else to open up to, a trained professional who can help him. But my feet remained planted on the muddy ground. A small part of me was intrigued to hear what he had to say.
‘Like you said, I’m… er… not on duty now.’ I let out a laugh and took a large gulp of my drink. ‘But I can tell you that if whatever’s on your mind is to do with funerals, death or grief then you are more than welcome to come to Grief Club. If you want to talk about some stuff?’
‘Grief Club?’ he echoed, looking past me at a group of guys preparing to set up and take over from the solo musician.
‘Yeah, it’s this sort of weekly session that I set up for people to come and talk about whatever is bothering them. It’s kind of evolved as the weeks have gone on, but the people that come are ever so friendly and very good listeners.’
‘Mmm-hmm?’
‘If that’s the sort of thing you’re into. Or even if it’s not.’ I let out a chirpy laugh. ‘It’s every Friday at seven o’clock, in the back room of St Augustine’s. Oh, and there’s cake. It’s taking place right now actually.’ My heart did a funny dip, thinking of them all there without me.
He nodded along, acting like he was listening.
‘Yeah… maybe.’
‘I mean, it’s primarily just for people who have lost someone close to them.’ I noticed a slight flicker of tension in his mouth as I said this. ‘But if you feel like talking to others then it might help?’
I needed to change the subject. Something wasn’t right, but I couldn’t quite work out what.
Chapter 30
‘Welcome home. You’ve got a lovely tan!’
Linda literally glowed at Frank’s compliment. I, on the other hand, worried for her melatonin levels; she should know better at her age. I’d been dreading seeing her again. I’d had sleepless nights in anticipation of her return, ever since she’d bumped into Callum and I at the garden centre. I’d purposefully cut away from Callum, and coincidentally this ‘break’ from each other had timed with the temperature breaking too. The glorious Indian summer we’d been promised had been replaced with days and days of rain and wind that lashed the UK.