‘That’s really how you feel?’
Cathy nodded.
‘I can’t believe you’re telling me this now! I come to you because I need help and you give me this!’
‘I don’t know what you expected me to give you! Did you really think I’d instantly fall in love with you again and we’d run off into the sunset? You have a wife!’
‘Then I’m sorry I came. I came because I thought you could help, not so you could list all the things that are wrong with me.’
‘That’s not what I’ve done at all. Jonas… there are many things that are wonderful about you too and many things I’ll remember fondly. I just don’t want you to view what we had through rose-tinted glasses because, for all the good things that happened, there was a reason we broke up. You might think that reason has gone with the death of my mum, but it hasn’t, because she never was the reason. The reason we broke up was us, and no matter how we might want to, we can’t blame anyone else. I’m trying to make you understand this because I care about you, not to hurt you and not because I want to punish you for our past.’
‘Right… If that’s the way you feel I’ll leave.’
Cathy didn’t argue because what was the point in giving him anything to latch on to? Any kind of hope would be a false one – better to let him see the grim reality rather than a rosy, misleading lie. She’d finally found the courage to say the things she felt he needed to hear, things that she ultimately thought would help him, and it was better for him to take those away with him and try to fix his marriage. She hoped he could because, despite all their past problems, she still cared for his welfare.
‘Will you be alright?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know…’ he began, then he paused. ‘I’m doing it again, aren’t I?’
‘A bit. You want to know what I think?’
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me anyway.’
Cathy gave a small smile. ‘I think you need to go and talk to Eleanor before you do anything else. Accept that she deserves a little effort, because I feel as if that’s one thing she hasn’t had from you. Forgive me for saying this, but I feel like maybe you were having problems and you saw me as a handy escape route? Somewhere to run to? I think you made more of the feelings you had seeing me again than was really true.’
‘I could never do that. I never stopped caring for you, and seeing you again after all these years reminded me of all the things I loved about you. But I shouldn’t have assumed you’d feel the same, and I’m sorry for that.’
Cathy shook her head. She suspected he was wrong and confused about his current feelings for her and in time she thought he’d see that. She wasn’t what he needed right now at all.
‘I know I should,’ he added, ‘but I can’t go home now.’
‘Why not?’
‘My head’s a mess and I’d say the wrong thing.’
‘You don’t know until you try. And why do you assume you get to do all the talking? Isn’t it worth going just to hear Eleanor out? You might not want to go home, but you owe it to her to give her a say too. Think about her for a minute; she might really need you to be there right now. You’ve left her this morning with barely a chance to understand what’s gone wrong. Imagine how she’s feeling right now after your bombshell. Go home, Jonas – go and talk to her. If you can’t work it out, at least help her understand.’
‘I don’t know how to do that. With you, it might have been simpler, but Eleanor doesn’t understand me like you used to.’
‘Stop it, Jonas. Stop romanticising our past. It wasn’t the way you remember it.’
‘Isn’t that the way you remember it?’
‘No. I remember it being messy and confusing. Sometimes it was good and sometimes it was horrible. If anything tells you the truth about what it was, it has to be the way it ended. Neither of us even tried to save it. That’s the truth about our past – it wasn’t worth saving. You say it was wonderful, but you moved on without a single look back. If it was so great, why marry someone else and disappear from my life for five years?’
‘I thought you didn’t want me.’
‘You didn’t even take the time to check.’
‘You were busy with your mum—’
‘Don’t drag my mum into this again.’ Cathy sighed. ‘I can’t believe we keep having this conversation. It was five years ago and it should be ancient history. Why are you really here?’
‘I’ve told you.’
‘That’s not it. You need to figure out what’s really going on and you need to talk to Eleanor. Promise me you’ll do that.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then I’m sorry, Jonas, but that’s all I have. Please don’t come here again. I’ve moved on and I have a life that I love – even if you can’t fix your own please don’t ruin that for me.’
He stared mournfully at her. But then he nodded. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘In time you’ll come to realise it’s best for both of us.’
When Jonas left her he’d agreed to go back and see Eleanor. Cathy felt drained somehow as she made her way back to her house. It wasn’t as easy as she’d made out to turn him away like that and she’d no doubt fret and worry about him for weeks to come. She didn’t know where he lived and she didn’t still have a phone number for him, so unless he sought her out as he had done today, she might not get to hear for a long time how he was getting on or if he’d fixed the problems in his marriage. But she felt certain that fixing his marriage was what he needed to do. If she’d been the cause of its undoing in any way then she was truly sorry for that, but she couldn’t take the blame and, for once, she wasn’t going to allow herself to.
As she let herself back in she could hear Erica and Tansy chatting in the kitchen. It reminded her forcefully of all the reasons she’d sent Jonas home and instantly her mood lightened.
‘All sorted?’ Erica asked cheerily.
‘Yes,’ Cathy said. ‘I hope so.’
Tansy was less easily put off. ‘Who was it?’
‘Just an old friend.’ Cathy sat at the table and put a hand to the teapot to check if it was still warm.
‘What kind of old friend?’ Tansy asked, ignoring Erica’s warning look.
‘Just someone I used to know. He was having a bit of trouble… wanted some advice.’
‘Did he used to be your boyfriend?’
Cathy looked up. She’d felt the need to hide this but perhaps being totally straight was the best way forward. What they’d make of it and what they might tell Matthias was another matter, but she’d done nothing wrong here. She was tired of feeling guilty for everything, especially things that were out of her control.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But it’s years since we were together.’
Erica’s mouth dropped open as she slotted the pieces together.
‘Don’t worry,’ Cathy said, ‘he won’t be back.’
‘What did he want?’ Erica asked.
‘I don’t think even he knew the answer to that,’ Cathy replied.
But she knew what she wanted, and Cathy wasn’t about to jeopardise that for anything.
Thirty-Two
It was the last cookery club before Christmas. Cathy was pleased to see a full turnout and a lot of excitement. Iris and Dora were sporting reindeer ears; Beth, Alicia and Lindsey had on matching jumpers that were covered in little flashing fairy lights; Colin had donned a Santa hat; Myrtle was wearing a halo; and Tansy and Erica had new Christmas aprons (though Tansy looked far from happy wearing hers). Cathy was wearing a jumper that Matthias had bought for her, half in jest, but that she loved. It had a Christmas tree covered in real baubles on it so that she clanked and jangled every time she moved.
‘OK, folks,’ she announced to the room, ‘we probably ought to get started, otherwise we’re going to run out of time.’
A cacophony followed as everyone got out spoons and bowls and measuring scales. Cathy was baking herself today and she did the same. She’d set a fairly simple cha
llenge of Christmas-themed gingerbread and she was damned if she was going to miss out on her own batch of that. She hummed along to the radio that Erica had insisted on bringing in, still tuned to the station that played constant Christmas songs as she spooned syrup into a pan. She was going to miss her little gang of chefs over Christmas, but for the first time in a long time she was looking forward to the day anyway. Matthias hadn’t waited for her to ask about Christmas lunch; he’d invited her to join him and Tansy. He wasn’t much of a cook, he’d said, but he’d give it a bash. Cathy was only too happy to help (or take over) and she was sure that Tansy wouldn’t want to be left out. It promised to be a pleasant day and, who knew, maybe she and Matthias would even manage to snatch a few minutes alone if Tansy could take a subtle hint or two.
She licked a blob of syrup from her finger and glanced up to see Erica smile across the room at her. Cathy smiled back. Erica, of course, was going to be spending Christmas Day with Malcolm at his parents’ house. They were taking Erica’s mum along too, so it meant that she wouldn’t get to see Matthias, Cathy or Tansy that day, but they had arranged to meet up on Boxing Day instead.
Not long after they’d made a very rowdy start the vicar came in wearing his Christmas jumper and Iris very nearly passed out with excitement.
‘Oh, that’s lovely!’ she squeaked, racing over to him. ‘It’s the nativity scene! Wherever did you get it?’
He grinned. ‘Lovely Gladys Palmer knitted it – isn’t she clever?’
Iris suddenly didn’t seem quite so enthusiastic. Perhaps Gladys Palmer was a rival, or perhaps Iris was jealous that he was so pleased with something somebody other than her had done for him.
‘Oh,’ she said, visibly deflating. ‘Yes, it’s very good.’
‘Oh, Gladys is good!’ Dora called over with a wicked grin, never one to pass up on an opportunity to wind Iris up. ‘What she can’t do with a set of knitting needles isn’t worth a postage stamp.’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ Iris said. ‘She doesn’t come to church all that often.’
‘She comes when she can,’ the vicar said cheerily. ‘I can’t ask for more than that.’
‘I come every week,’ Iris said, puffing up, ‘rain or shine!’
‘And I’m grateful for it,’ the vicar said, restoring some of Iris’s spring as her look of annoyance transformed back into a smile. ‘I’d think the world had come to an end if you weren’t there on a Sunday.’
He had a young woman with him who hadn’t spoken yet and Cathy wondered if he was going to introduce her because nobody else seemed to know who she was either, though there had been plenty of curious appraisals. Cathy didn’t recognise her and supposed she must be someone who worked for the church.
‘So have you finally come to join us?’ Cathy asked brightly. ‘We’re making gingerbread today if you’re interested.’
‘I wish I could but it’s a flying visit,’ he said. ‘I do actually need to have a quick word with you, though.’
He gestured to a quieter corner away from the rest of the group. Curious eyes followed as Cathy joined him.
‘Oh…’ Cathy wiped her hands on her apron. ‘What can I do for you?’
He gestured to the young woman who’d come in with him. ‘I’d like you to meet Lydia.’
Lydia stepped forward and extended her hand for Cathy to shake. ‘It’s lovely to meet you; Simon has told me so much about you.’
‘Hello,’ Cathy said, feeling slightly bemused, not least because she’d got so used to calling the vicar the vicar that the notion of him having an actual real name was somewhat of a surprise.
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ the vicar said, ‘but I thought I’d bring Lydia along to meet you because she’s interested in your recipe book.’
‘You’d like a copy?’ Cathy began. ‘I don’t have the full one – that’s at home – but I can do some photocopies of the ones you want to try…’
‘I actually work for a publisher called Modern Traditions. We specialise in homey guides – things like sewing and crafts and cookery. How to paint or make pots or stencil… that sort of thing.’
‘We worked together once before on an origami book that raised money for charity,’ the vicar said. ‘She also happens to be my cousin…’
Cathy smiled but still didn’t really understand how any of this concerned her.
‘Lydia had mentioned to me a few months ago she was looking for something a bit newer and fresher, something around cooking. She’s visiting for Christmas and I thought, why not bring her along to meet you?’
‘Me?’ Cathy blinked, more confused than ever.
‘I think your recipe collection might be just what I’m looking for,’ Lydia said. ‘Right now a book of wholesome, family-friendly and accessible cooking is what everyone is after – the right one is harder to find than you might imagine. Simon said he thought you might be the perfect face to front it too, and, having met you, I’m already fairly confident he’s right.’
Cathy looked from one to the other, speechless. Was she hearing all this right or had someone laced her tea with a good glug of cooking sherry?
‘I don’t understand…’
‘I’d like to take a look at your book, if I may, with a view to perhaps publishing it. I’d have to discuss it with colleagues at our next editorial meeting and that would be after Christmas now so there are no guarantees, of course.’
‘I wouldn’t expect any,’ Cathy said, still not quite sure if she was dreaming or not. Things like this didn’t happen to people like her. They didn’t happen like this to anyone, surely? Publishers didn’t just pitch up and say, hey, we like the sound of your book, can we publish it?
‘I don’t know anything about your company, I’m afraid,’ she added, wondering if that sounded rude. She didn’t mean it to be, but that old habit of talking rubbish on first meetings was one that would always be hard to shake.
‘Here’s my card,’ Lydia said. ‘The web address is there if you want to take a look at what we do. My email is on there too. When you’re ready, feel free to send your book across.’
‘I only have a printed copy,’ Cathy said.
‘How about you scan the pages and send them?’ the vicar cut in. He looked at Lydia. ‘Would that work for you?’
‘I’d prefer a Word copy, but I suppose as an initial submission I could work with it. If we think it has potential I’d need to get something in a more appropriate format.’
‘I could do that!’ Cathy blurted out. She had no idea if she could or not but was fired by a sudden rush of excitement. Even if she couldn’t, she was sure she’d find a way to get Lydia what she needed.
‘Great,’ Lydia said. ‘It was lovely meeting you, Cathy. We’ll let you get back to your class.’
‘Thank you,’ Cathy said.
The vicar gave her a good-natured wink before he turned to follow Lydia out. ‘Thank you!’ she mouthed to him. But then she called out: ‘Merry Christmas!’
Lydia turned with a smile. ‘Merry Christmas, Cathy. I very much hope to be working with you in the new year.’
‘I still can’t believe you don’t like turkey!’
Cathy giggled as Matthias made an apologetic face. They were all wearing the obligatory rubbish paper crowns they’d pulled out of crackers and their best clothes. In front of Matthias was a plate piled with the usual crisp roast potatoes, honey-roasted carrots and parsnips, stuffing, pigs in blankets and Brussels sprouts. But instead of turkey he had two fat sausages.
‘I’m afraid I might have to reconsider this relationship,’ she added. ‘I don’t know if I can be with a man who doesn’t like turkey – it’s a bit suspect.’
‘I happen to like sausages. What’s wrong with sausages?’
Cathy grinned. ‘Nothing on any other day. But sausages for Christmas dinner… that’s just plain weird.’ She turned to Tansy. ‘You’ve done an amazing job on this turkey, by the way.’
She took a mouthful of wine. Her cheeks were rosy and her mouthfu
ls of wine were getting larger and less dainty the tipsier she got. Right now, she was at peak tipsy and heading towards full-blown sloshed. She hadn’t been this drunk in a long time but she was rather enjoying it. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long time either. She’d arrived early to share gifts and help prepare lunch and it had been reserved at first – happy and pleasant but a little awkward from newness – but it hadn’t taken long to settle. They were soon getting on so well that Cathy felt as if she completely belonged.
Even the ever-dour Tansy managed to crack the odd smile, though, as was her way, she was never less than quite serious. The night before she’d pored over an online recipe instructing how to cook the perfect turkey and had made it clear that day it was going to be her job. Cathy would ordinarily have been longing to do it, but she realised that she was going to have to give Tansy this. Every little action, every little show of trust and respect brought Tansy out of her armoured shell that little bit further and it was wonderful to see. She’d spoken to her mother that morning on the phone, and Cathy had been afraid that it would set her back to the rude and insulting Tansy she’d first known, but thankfully her fears had quickly been dispelled.
‘Sausages and pigs in blankets… Sausages and sausages,’ Tansy agreed. ‘Poor pigs.’
‘At least I didn’t make you cook some different meat,’ Matthias said.
‘What do you think sausage is?’ Tansy’s eyebrows drew together as she reached for her own wine.
‘Well, at least I didn’t make you cook something that would take a long time.’
‘And who said you could make us cook anything?’ Cathy grinned at Tansy. ‘We’re women so we do the cooking?’
‘No, you do the cooking because my food wouldn’t be edible,’ Matthias said.
‘We’ll have to teach you, won’t we, Tansy?’
Tansy nodded.
‘I’m afraid you might find I’m unteachable.’
‘Nobody is unteachable,’ Cathy told him again. ‘Everyone can cook if they put their mind to it – there’s no great mystery to it.’
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