Near And Dear

by Pamela Evans

  ‘Kevin’s young . . . and children are very resilient,’ she went on, almost as though he hadn’t spoken. ‘But Giles . . . I mean, he and Lena were everything to each other. I just don’t know how he’s going to come through this.’

  Hearing this conversation, it was as though Jane’s own thoughts were being spoken aloud. This was something that had been keeping her awake at nights, too.

  Giles withdrew into himself. He avoided conversation with Jane whenever they met, which was often because Kevin spent most of his time outside school hours in Jane’s cottage. She collected him from school every day with Davey and Pip to save him waiting for Giles to finish at the Gram. Kevin usually had tea with Jane’s children and stayed until bedtime. Giles seemed relieved to shed this responsibility so that he could nurse his own personal grief.

  His zest for life died with Lena. He lost interest in the Riverside Juniors and left the running of the football team to a pal of his who had previously been his assistant. Once a great walker, whatever the weather, he didn’t even do that now. So far as Jane could gather, he didn’t do anything except go to work and care for Kevin in a distant sort of way. It was obvious Giles’s behaviour was having an effect on the boy who never seemed to want to go home.

  What could Jane do? It wasn’t her place to interfere. She thought of inviting him to join them for meals occasionally but Giles made it so obvious that he wanted to be left alone, she felt to do so would be an imposition. She included Kevin in her own family outings, but on Saturdays when Davey and Pip were with Marie, while Jane was at the market, he was always at the window waiting for them when they got home. Her heart went out to him.

  As Christmas drew near and Giles showed no sign of emerging from his depression, she was really worried. Jane cared about him as she had cared about Lena. She knew he had to go through this grieving period but wished she could do something to help. She hated to see him so lost and alone.

  She was in the kitchen getting supper ready one Saturday evening after a busy day at the market when he came to the back door with a package he had taken in for her from the postman. She ushered him inside, hastily putting the parcel out of sight in the first place to hand - the larder. She offered him a cup of tea which he declined.

  ‘It’s lucky the kids are in the other room because that parcel is full of Christmas presents for them from my mail order catalogue,’ she explained, putting some hamburgers under the grill. ‘If they knew they were in the house, they’d have the place upside down looking for them every time my back was turned.’

  ‘Oh, I see,’ Giles said dully. ‘ I thought the larder was an odd place to put a parcel.’

  ‘They have eyes like hawks when it comes to Christmas presents,’ she said. ‘I expect Kevin is the same?’

  ‘Mmm,’ he muttered vaguely.

  ‘I’ll open the parcel to check the contents when they’ve gone to bed, then hide it properly,’ said Jane chattily. ‘I’ve got stuff hidden all over the house.’

  ‘Of course, Christmas is almost upon us now, isn’t it?’ he said, sighing heavily as though the mere thought of the festive season made him feel even more miserable.

  ‘It won’t be long,’ she said, frying chips in the chip-pan. ‘I’ve ordered quite a few bits and pieces from my catalogue. It’s very handy at this time of the year.’

  Giles looked stricken.

  ‘I suppose you could do without Christmas this year?’ she said quietly, standing back from the cooker and looking at him.

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Still, you’ll have to make an effort for Kevin’s sake, won’t you?’ Jane opened a tin of baked beans and emptied them into a saucepan. ‘Children are very therapeutic. They force you to keep going. I know mine did when Mick left, even though all I wanted to do was die.’

  He didn’t reply and when she turned she was disturbed to see that his face was contorted and he was crying silently.

  ‘Oh, Giles,’ she said, putting her arms around him and holding his quivering body close to hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he spluttered. ‘I’m being pathetic. I’ll go.’

  ‘Shhh,’ she said gently.

  ‘This is the first time I’ve actually let go and cried.’

  ‘I guessed that.’

  ‘I’ve tried to stay strong for Kevin. Now look at me.’

  ‘Letting your grief out isn’t a sign of weakness,’ she said gently. ‘You have to let it out, Giles, it’s the only way forward.’

  ‘I don’t want to go forward without Lena,’ he sobbed, his words barely audible.

  ‘I know, I know,’ she told him softly. ‘But you have to carry on somehow . . . for Kevin’s sake. He needs you. You have each other, you’ll come through this together, believe me.’

  He sat down at the table with his head in his hands, his body heaving as he sobbed uncontrollably, his cries deep and guttural. She left him alone, saying nothing and busying herself by turning the supper down and making a pot of tea. When the children came in in search of food, she shooed them away with a biscuit and a request to make themselves scarce for a while.

  Giles wept for a long time and when he finally managed to compose himself, Jane poured tea for them both and sat opposite him at the table.

  ‘What must you think of me?’ he said. ‘I’m sorry to be so weak.’

  ‘You haven’t been weak,’ she assured him. ‘Keeping a stiff upper lip indefinitely was doing you no good at all.’

  ‘I don’t know what came over me . . . once I started, I just couldn’t stop.’

  ‘You’ll be all the better for it,’ she said. ‘I’ve been so worried about you. You’ve been going about like a robot.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Stop apologising,’ she urged him. ‘I’m your friend, remember?’

  ‘Oh, Jane,’ he said, contrition emerging through his grief. ‘I’ve been so wrapped up in myself, and you must have been suffering too, having lost a dear friend.’

  ‘I do miss her terribly . . .’

  ‘You’ve been so good to me, having Kevin as a more or less permanent house guest. It’s been an effort having him around because I’ve been feeling so wretched.’

  ‘We enjoy having him. He’s just like one of the family. But it’s you he really wants. Losing his mother must have traumatised him.’

  ‘I’ve been neglecting everything except what I actually have to do at school,’ said Giles, his voice husky from weeping. ‘The football team, my after-school gym club ... but, more importantly, I haven’t been giving Kevin the attention he needs.’

  ‘I can’t disagree with you about that. But don’t be too hard on yourself,’ she said. ‘This is a very bad time for you. You’ll do all the things you should . . . eventually.’

  ‘I have to pull myself together, though.’

  ‘Yes, you must, for Kevin’s sake.’

  ‘Easier said than done.’

  ‘I know this might seem to be suggesting the impossible, the way you’re feeling now,’ she said, ‘but if you force yourself to take up your old commitments again, the football team, the gym club and so on, it might help.’

  ‘I’ve been feeling too lethargic and lacking in heart to do anything.’

  ‘I know the feeling.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I didn’t lose my husband through death but it felt as though he’d died after he left me,’ she said. ‘Some days I didn’t know how to put one foot in front of the other, I felt so dreadful. But I had to keep going for the sake of the children. They gave my life a purpose and helped me through it.’

  ‘I’d forgotten that you’ve been through a similar sort of experience,’ he said. ‘You’ve been so organised ever since I’ve known you, it’s hard to imagine it was ever any different.’

  ‘It was, I can assure you. And I had all the humiliation and rage to cope with too, the anger with him for walking out on me,’ she explained. ‘God, I felt so demoralised.’

  ‘I’ve been feeling angry,
too,’ Giles said. ‘Angry with God for letting her die, angry with her for leaving me. Stupid, isn’t it?’

  ‘Irrational, not stupid. But I’ve heard that’s quite a common reaction when someone you love dies. I suppose it’s a response to being so powerless against a higher force.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There was nothing irrational about the fury I felt when Mick walked out and left me and the kids penniless, though,’ she said. ‘I was angry, hurt . . . completely shattered. I’d never have thought he could do such a thing. Still, they say you can never really know anyone, don’t they?’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘The anger has more or less burned out after all this time.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘I still wonder about him, though . . . where he is, what he’s doing. We were very close, you see. Until he disappeared I could never have imagined life without him. I was very reliant on him which made it even more difficult for me to adjust. But I’m used to living without him now and think about him less often as time goes on. Inevitable, I suppose.’

  Davey came into the kitchen wanting to know how long they had to wait for supper because he and Pip were really hungry.

  ‘Not long now,’ she told him. ‘I’ll call you when it’s ready.’

  ‘I’d better go and leave you to it,’ said Giles when Davey had gone. ‘Kevin and my mother will be wondering where I’ve got to. I told them I’d only be a minute.’

  Jane looked at him, wondering.

  ‘Why don’t the three of you join us for supper?’ she suggested impulsively.

  ‘Thanks but . . .’

  ‘We’re only having burgers, beans and chips but I can easily make a bit extra,’ she persisted. ‘And we’d really love to have you.’

  Giles still looked doubtful.

  ‘We’re having one of my spicy apple cakes to follow,’ she said, to make light of it and try to bring some ordinariness back into his life.

  ‘Well, in that case, how can I refuse?’ he said, managing a watery smile. ‘I’ll just pop next-door and get them.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ said Jane, smiling.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘What would you say if I was to tell you that I’m thinking of opening a shop?’ Jane asked Giles one Sunday afternoon in the early-summer of the following year when they were out walking in Richmond Park with their offspring, who had gone on ahead to watch some children flying a kite.

  ‘Instead of the markets or as well as?’ he enquired.

  ‘Instead of.’

  ‘In that case, I’d say it’s a very good idea.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m being a bit too ambitious then?’

  ‘Not at all. At least you wouldn’t be so completely at the mercy of the weather, especially in the depths of winter.’

  ‘With the amount of clothes I wear, that isn’t really a problem.’

  ‘Even so . . . it can’t be pleasant when it’s bitterly cold.’

  ‘It isn’t. I’ll be sorry to give the markets up, though,’ she told him thoughtfully. ‘I enjoy the lively atmosphere and I usually get a few laughs with the other traders.’

  ‘Now that you’ve been in business for a while and have proved there’s a steady demand for your cakes, a shop would be more sensible.’

  ‘Yes, it does seem to be the most logical thing to do,’ she agreed. ‘And I’d have more time with the children at weekends.’

  ‘How’s that? Surely you would open the shop on a Saturday?’

  ‘Of course. But I’m thinking of having staff working in the shop while I concentrate on the actual cake-making, ’ she explained. ‘I think it’s time I stopped being a one-woman operation.’

  ‘You’re planning a major expansion then?’

  ‘I’m not planning on opening other branches and becoming a chain, or anything like that,’ she said. ‘But I would like to put my business on a more stable footing.’

  ‘Good idea. But would you do the baking at the shop?’

  ‘Oh, no. To do that would mean I’d be away from home more rather than less,’ she said. ‘I’d rather continue to make the cakes in the cottage kitchen . . . as long as I have big enough ovens.’

  ‘I still don’t see how you’ll be able to take the weekends off, though?’

  ‘Well, as things are at the moment, because I like the cakes to be as fresh as possible, I bake on Fridays for the Saturday market and on Sunday for the Monday market. On other days I’ll be working on the orders for shops and cafes and customers who order from me direct.’

  ‘And you’re out working on Saturdays at the market.’

  ‘Exactly. I shall have to work until late tonight to make up for the fact that I’ve taken this afternoon off, for instance. But if I had a shop, I wouldn’t open on a Monday which means I wouldn’t have to bake on a Sunday. If I had the shop staffed I would be free on Saturdays too. Obviously, there would be occasions when I’d have to work at the weekend - staff sickness and holidays, special orders and so on - but at least I wouldn’t be quite so tied as I am now. And as I wouldn’t have to go out selling cakes, I’d have time to experiment with new recipes, so that I can improve existing favourites and introduce new lines.’

  ‘You won’t change the recipe for the spicy apple cake, I hope?’

  ‘No fear! That’s still my biggest seller. I seem to have got the taste and texture of that just about right.’

  ‘I can vouch for that.’

  ‘I’d like to develop the occasion cakes side of the business too . . . birthday cakes and so on. I have to turn orders away at the moment, ’cause I just don’t have the time.’

  Giles looked puzzled.

  ‘Surely you’ll be even busier, though, won’t you?’ he said. ‘I mean, if you have a shop trading five days a week, you’ll need to produce more cakes than you do now.’

  ‘Lots more,’ she said. ‘But I’m thinking of offering my sister-in-law Marie a job . . . working with me in the kitchen.’

  ‘Ah, now that really is a good idea.’

  ‘I know she could do with the extra money and we get on really well together, having been friends for so long. I trust her to keep my recipes to herself, too.’

  ‘An important factor.’

  ‘Oh, yes.’

  ‘What about the school holidays as regards her children?’

  ‘No problem. She can bring them to work with her. They’re quite at home at my place, anyway, with Davey and Pip. It wouldn’t be practical to give her a job in the shop because they would be in the way there.’

  ‘Well, it sounds to me as though you have it all worked out and have already decided to go ahead.’

  ‘I have, more or less. I just needed actually to say it out loud to someone - someone who can view the idea objectively. I can’t talk anything like this over with my father because he’s too personally involved. He gets worried for me, thinks I’m getting in too deep.’

  ‘Like he did when you bought the cottage?’

  ‘Yes. But once a thing becomes a fait accompli, he calms down.’

  ‘It’s only because he cares about you that he puts up opposition.’

  ‘Yes, that and the fact that he isn’t used to women being in business for themselves or owning their own house.’

  The discussion was halted by the children who had seen enough of the kite-flying and were now eager to take a look at the deer who lived in the park. So they all tramped on, chattering and laughing, lingering for a while by the sun-splintered waters of Pen Ponds where legions of waterfowl splashed about on the surface: ducks, swans, herons - a flock of geese pecking for insects on the grassy banks.

  The little group trekked on through thickly wooded areas of ancient oaks and beeches, ash and willows, eventually coming to Spanker’s Hill Wood where they observed a herd of deer from a safe distance.

  ‘There you are, kids,’ said Giles as they watched the magnificent creatures. ‘Straight from Santa’s workshop.’

  The two boys tutted and raised their eyes w
ith youthful scorn.

  ‘There isn’t really a Santa Claus, Uncle Giles,’ explained Pip earnestly. ‘It’s just an ordinary man dressed up.’

  ‘Is that right, poppet?’ he said, teasing her affectionately. ‘Where do all the presents come from at Christmas then?’

  ‘They come from people, silly,’ she informed him patiently, not quite old enough to catch on to the joke. ‘Your friends and family give them to you . . . if you’re good. Everyone knows that.’

  ‘Does that mean I’ll have to be good if I want some presents this Christmas?’

  ‘You won’t get any if you’re not,’ she said in the manner of an indulgent parent pacifying a child.

  Jane smiled. She usually felt a warm glow when they were all together like this, almost as one family.

  They walked on and climbed the hill to the highest point in the park where, through the trees, they could see St Paul’s Cathedral, twelve miles away. They sat on a bench in the sunshine for a while to recover, then the children were promised ice creams from the van in the car park when they got back.

  ‘I’ll have leg muscles like an athlete before long,’ remarked Jane as they made their way back down the hill.

  ‘Why’s that?’ asked Giles.

  ‘Because of all the extra walking I’ve been doing this last few months,’ she explained. ‘A gentle stroll by the river was about the most strenuous exercise my legs had to contend with before you started dragging me out for killer marathons like this.’

  ‘Go on with you, you know you feel better for it,’ he said.

  ‘Just teasing.’

  ‘Good. I should hate to think I was twisting your arm.’

  ‘You’re joking,’ she said heartily. ‘Striding through Richmond Park has become one of my greatest pleasures.’

  It was true. Over the last six months or so she and Giles and their children had spent a lot of time together. After he’d joined them for supper that first time after Lena’s death, Jane had felt able to suggest that they team up again, for meals and outings. At first he needed coaxing but after a while he’d seemed to find the Parkers’ company as enjoyable as his son did. He even began to take the initiative and organise things for them all to do together. It was lovely!