‘Because …’
‘Exactly. You may say that nothing happened, but just the fact you didn’t mention him was a betrayal of sorts.’
‘I didn’t sleep with him, Matt.’
There was a silence at the other end. ‘It’s not just that, Cait. You’ve been saying for months now that things haven’t been right between us, so it’s not just Tom. I think you need to think about what you want, what you really want, and I’ll do the same. We need to decide whether the next part of the journey is to be together or not—’
‘Matt, I already know. I want to be with you. Please come home.’
‘Not yet. I need some space, Cait, to think things over.’
‘I found your book of lists—’
‘No. That wasn’t finished.’
‘I loved it.’
‘Well, things have changed a bit since I started working on that, haven’t they?’ I could hear the anger in his voice.
‘Matt, I’m sorry.’
There was a pause then he said, ‘I’m sorry too.’
The phone clicked off.
He’d sounded weary and sad. I needed to do something to bring him home, something that would let him know how much I cared, how much I knew him and what he needed and liked. Book a weekend away? A case of his favourite wine? A gym membership? No. All these things could be done later. I needed something better, a grand gesture. As I thought, I flicked through the albums that were still lying on the coffee table. Matt with Sam and Jed. An early one of Matt from before he went to college, standing proudly, a black Alsatian at his side. Rex, his dog. An idea popped into my head. That could work, I thought. It would bring Matt home, I had no doubt about it.
44
Cait
I spent the next few days on websites searching. I gave Matt his space and, in turn, he didn’t contact me. On the Friday morning, I found what I’d been looking for. A black Alsatian. Bertie. Four years old. I picked up the phone to talk to the animal centre and set off half an hour later.
After an interview and filling in applications at the rescue centre, Sally, the chubby redhead at the desk, asked which dog I was interested in.
‘Bertie, the Alsatian,’ I said.
Sally’s face fell. ‘Oh, but he’s gone. I am so sorry. His details mustn’t have been updated on the website.’
I felt so disappointed and got up to leave.
‘If it’s definitely an Alsatian you’re after, we have had a new fellow come in yesterday,’ said Sally. ‘His owner died and there was no one to take him. He’s not a black one, he’s gold and brown. Would you like to take a look?’
No harm in looking, I thought, though I’d had my heart set on getting one that looked as close to Rex as I could find. I followed Sally through to the kennels at the back of the centre. Some of the dogs barked in greeting as we walked past, others sat at the back of their area on a blanket staring out at us.
Sally stopped at a kennel on the corner. ‘Here he is,’ she said. ‘Come on, Charlie.’
I looked in to glimpse the saddest face I’d ever seen. He was curled up at the back on a blanket and raised his head to see who’d come to look at him, then sank his head back between his paws.
‘How old is he?’ I asked.
‘He’s three, and not taking too well to being in kennels, but then none of them like being locked up.’
She opened the cage and we stepped in. ‘Just go easy with him,’ said Sally. ‘He’s a friendly boy, just a bit puzzled and sad about where he is at the moment.’
I put down my bag and sat on the floor next to him. He looked up at me then slumped down again, so I gave his head a stroke. He reached out a paw up onto my leg and his tail wagged a millimetre.
‘I think he likes you,’ said Sally. ‘I’ll leave you to get to know each other and be back in a while.’
She left me with Charlie and I leant up against the back wall of the kennel and just let Charlie be. After a few moments, he looked up at me and I stroked his head again. ‘You had a rough time lately, Charlie? Me too, but we could be friends, look after each other.’
He continued to regard me with serious brown eyes and nudged a bit closer so that his body was slumped against the length of my legs. I reached down and put my arm around him, and there we stayed until Sally came back.
‘I think he’s the one,’ I said as she came into the kennel.
Her face lit up. ‘That’s fantastic; he’s got a very gentle nature and all any of our dogs want is to be loved. We’d have to come out to your home to check out accessibility and so on.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘We have a garden, our kids have gone, we’re on a quiet street, and both my husband and I will have time to walk him. He’s away at the moment, but he’s a true animal lover. I know he’ll adore Charlie when he meets him.’
‘Sounds ideal,’ said Sally.
When we got outside the cage, I looked back inside, then suddenly Charlie stood up. I’d left my handbag in there, and Charlie trotted over to it, picked it up in his mouth and brought it to the door.
Sally opened the kennel and took the bag from him. ‘Good boy,’ she said, and Charlie wagged his tail and looked at me imploringly as if to say, hey, where are you going? Get me out of here.
‘I will, Charlie, don’t you worry,’ I said. As I walked away, I heard a small yelp as if to say, come back. ‘I won’t be long. I promise.’
*
A week later, the animal centre had done the checks and Charlie was in the passenger seat in my car. I opened the window and he put his head out, as if to breathe in his freedom. When he turned to look at me, I could have sworn that he was smiling.
I drove straight to Duncan’s flat and, once there, I sent Matt a text from the car. Am at the front door, please come down.
Luckily, he was in, and appeared a few minutes later. I felt overwhelmingly pleased to see him and, despite what had happened, he looked happy to see me too and … there was something else too, a frisson of attraction, the old chemistry we’d had but hadn’t felt for so long.
‘How are you?’ I asked.
He shrugged a shoulder. ‘OK. You?’
‘You look well, trim.’ He did. He’d lost even more weight and it had taken years off him as well as pounds.
‘And you look … what is it?’ He searched my face. ‘Rested.’
I smiled. ‘I’ve managed to get some sleep at last. Some days I haven’t even got out of my dressing gown until past eleven.’
Matt smiled back at me. ‘Good, I’m glad.’
‘I miss you,’ I said. One day I’d tell him about finally grieving for Mum and Eve, how it had felt, the fear of it, the eventual giving in to it, the utter exhaustion of it … but not today.
He nodded. ‘Me too, Cait—’
‘Before you say anything else, I have a confession to make.’
‘Another?’
I nodded and couldn’t help grinning. ‘I have someone else in my life now.’
‘What?’ Matt was about to step back inside and close the door, but I stopped him. ‘He’s in the car. Let me get him.’
‘Oh Cait, no—’ Matt called after me.
‘Back in a minute. It’s not what you think.’
A few moments later, I was back at the door with Charlie at my side.
Matt looked bewildered. ‘Who’s this?’ He looked down at Charlie, who was gazing back up at him. Matt bent over to stroke him and Charlie put up a paw and wagged his tail.
‘This is Charlie. He’s for you. You said you wanted a dog. Don’t worry, I won’t push you, and if you don’t want him, I’ll have him. I’ve already fallen in love with him.’
Matt looked up at the building behind him. ‘But I can’t have a dog in a flat …’ he said, then he smiled slowly as he realized.
‘Exactly,’ I said.
45
Cait
‘Thanks again for having Dad,’ I said as Lorna and I walked the three dogs, Otis, Angus and Charlie, in Victoria Park.
<
br /> ‘No need. I really like having him around,’ she said, ‘and he’s great with the dogs. They both adore him already, and it’s good that he’s on site because he can direct the workers as to exactly what he wants in his part of the house. I think the arrangement’s going to work well. What about you? Now that Matt’s back, are you going to stay in the house?’
I shook my head. ‘We’re selling up and going to move a short distance out of town – not far, we love Bath but we’ll get somewhere smaller and release some money at the same time. And what about the tip man?’
‘Patrick? We’ve been out for a drink. I like him, and it’ll work for the occasional outing to the theatre or whatever. I don’t want any more than that and I don’t think he does either, but it’s early days. Have you heard from Debs?’
‘She’s texted, called and emailed but I haven’t replied. I’m not ready. A card came from her with the word “sorry” written about fifty times. Have you?’
Lorna nodded. ‘I have. She’s gone travelling. A few days ago, she packed her bags and she’s gone to visit Ollie in America.’
‘For how long?’
‘She didn’t say. She said she was mortified about what had happened and couldn’t face us for a while, so she’s going to go away and try and make peace with herself and the world.’
‘Sounds like Debs and I’m glad she’s gone. I can’t face her either. Not yet, maybe never. What about the spa?’
‘She has a good manager there who can look after it. Maybe when she gets back you’ll feel differently.’
‘Maybe. I doubt it. We could never be friends as we were.’
‘She recognizes that she could have been more supportive and sensitive to what you were going through. People make mistakes, Cait. I think she knows she did.’
‘I know.’ Debs wasn’t the only one who’d made mistakes. I thought about all the stupidity in my head over Tom. ‘I won’t rule her out.’
Lorna raised her glass. ‘Good. Just as marriages go through rough patches, so do friendships. And what about Tom? Have you heard from him?’
‘Not a dickie bird, and that’s fine by me. I doubt if I’ll ever hear from him again.’
‘And Matt?’
‘He’s doing great. He has a meeting this afternoon about the TV series he was working on.’
‘Back to work?’
‘Maybe. In the meantime, he and Charlie have become firm friends.’
‘What about Yoda?’
‘He wasn’t too pleased at first, but they’re working it out. Every time Charlie goes near him, he biffs him on the nose, so he’s soon learnt who’s boss in the house.’
Lorna put her arm around me and gave me a squeeze. ‘And the river flows on,’ she said.
I nodded. ‘And the river flows on.’
46
Matt
‘Matt,’ said Bruce Patterson as we took our seats in a pub near his office. ‘I’ve read the proposal for the retirement series and shown it to the team. It’s had a unanimous thumbs-up.’
‘That’s great news.’
‘More than that, I’ve shown it to my contact at the network. They love it and want to commission the series so we can pay you for your time and work so far. Of course, we’ll need you to oversee to ensure it’s exactly how you’ve envisaged.’
‘Me?’
‘Of course, it was always the deal that you got the gig if we got a commission. It will be full on, but you’re used to that.’
‘I’m sorry, Bruce, but this is as far as I go. I’m happy for you to use the material, more than happy, and could act as consultant in the background if you like, but the rest of it, not for me.’
‘Not for you? But I’m saying the job’s yours.’
‘A few months ago I’d have done anything to hear the words you just said, but things have changed.’
‘This could be big, Matt. There’s potential for all sorts of follow-ups, maybe a book to accompany the series.’
‘I hope it will be big, but not for me.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘New chapter in my life.’
‘Ah. Another project?’
‘Nope.’
‘What then?’
I laughed. ‘I never thought I’d say these words voluntarily: thanks for the job offer, but I’ve retired.’
*
After supper that evening, I’d just settled down to watch the news with my new faithful companion Charlie at my feet and Yoda curled up on the sofa arm, keeping a watchful eye, when Cait appeared at the door. She was wearing a figure-hugging, black lace nightdress. Very tasteful, very nice. She put her right arm above her head and seductively pressed herself along one side of the doorframe.
‘’Allo sexy monsieur. You fancy early night?’ she asked, in an appalling attempt at a French accent. I sat up immediately and noticed that she was also wearing Jed’s old pair of flippers from his snorkelling days. I remembered her telling me that she’d found them under his bed a while ago. Interesting combo, I thought as I burst out laughing, but that was Cait; she turned me on, she made me laugh, and I never knew what she was going to do next.
‘An early night. Hmm? I think I do.’
Reverting back to her normal accent, she asked, ‘Or we’ve got a new box set if you’re not in the mood.’
‘Oh no, no box set. See you up there in five minutes.’
‘Great, and bring the blood-pressure machine. With what I’ve got in mind for you, we’re probably going to need it.’
I laughed again. We were going to be OK.
Acknowledgements
With many thanks to:
My agents Chris Little and Emma Schlesinger for their constant support, encouragement and making me laugh a lot.
To my editor Kate Bradley for coming all the way to Bath to discuss books, for her incisive feedback and comments through the various drafts and for being the best of company.
To Claire Ward for coming up with another fabulous cover.
To all the team at Harper for getting behind the book with such enthusiasm.
Lastly to my husband Steve for his constant willingness to brainstorm ideas and characters and for being a great sounding board, it’s much appreciated.
Matt’s A – Z of Activities for Retirement
A: art, aerobics, amateur dramatics (acting), archery, kite flying, abseiling, archeology, architecture, athletics, allotment.
B: book club, bird-watching, baking, badminton, ballooning, ballet, batik, bead work, boxing, brass band, basket ball, bowls, bridge.
C: cinema, cycling, cookery classes, choir, croquet, climbing, canoeing, clay pigeon shooting, cartooning, cake decorating, calligraphy, circus arts, crochet, candle making, computer skills, cricket, card games.
D: dancing, dog walking, dress making, darts, diving.
E: exploring new places, embroidery, etching, Egyptian dance.
F: feng shui, flower arranging, friends, fencing, film club, fashion, folk dance.
G: golf, gardening, gym, gliding, guided walks.
H: holidays, hand-gliding, horse riding, hiking, hip hop, history, hockey.
I: illustrating, interior design.
J: jiu jitsu, judo, jewelry making, jazz.
K: knitting, karate, kayaking, kite flying, kazoo.
L: languages, learning a new skill, life drawing, lace making, landscape design, literature, lacrosse.
M: music, mountain biking, Morris dancing, murals, mosaics, martial arts, meditation, mindfulness.
N: National Trust, narrow boating, needlework, netball.
O: opera, origami, Open University.
P: photography, pottery, pub crawls, paint-balling, pony trekking, painting, playwriting, poetry, printmaking, puppetry, philosophy.
Q: Quoits, quiz nights, quilt making, quad biking.
R: running, reading groups, rambling, rowing, rounders, rugby.
S: salsa, sculpture, sailing, swimming, sewing, studying, school governor, snorkeling, surfing, snowboarding, skiing, sled
ging, scuba diving, soap making, spinning, storytelling, singing, song writing, skating, snooker, swing dance.
T: theatre, travel, tennis, table tennis, tap dancing, Tai Chi, tango.
U: University of the Third Age, ukulele.
V: volunteer work, video games, vegetable growing.
W: walking, writing, water skiing, white water rafting, windsurfing, watercolour painting, weaving, woodcarving, wrestling, wine making, wine tasting.
X: xylopyrography (the art or technique of producing a picture or design on a piece of wood by burning it with a heated, pointed instrument).
Y: yoga, yachting.
Z: zzzzzing, Zorbing (rolling down hill inside an orb), zithering (a zither is a musical instrument).
It’s never too late!
Matt’s list of a small number of the people who have achieved their dreams after 50
- Mary Wesley wrote ten bestsellers including The Camomile Lawn after she was 70.
- Cezanne had his first one-man exhibition when he was 56.
- Daniel Defoe wrote Robinson Crusoe, his first novel, at 60.
- Patrick O’Brian only hit his stride as a writer with his Master and Commander sea stories when he was 65.
- Colonel Harland Sanders established the Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant chain in his sixties.
- James Parkinson identified Parkinson’s disease at 62, and at 63 Polish countess, Rosa Branicka, helped to develop surgical techniques for breast cancer by operating on herself.
- Coco Chanel ruled a fashion empire at 85.
- Priscilla Sitienei, a great-great-grandmother and former midwife in Kenya, enrolled in primary school at the age of 90.
- At 92, Marjorie Liggins from Sheffield married her 86-year-old dancing partner, Norman Camm.
- Laura Ingalls Wilder began writing the popular Little House on the Prairie books at 65.
- Estelle Getty achieved fame in The Golden Girls at 63.
- Billy Hopkins wrote his best-selling novel, Our Kid, at the age of 70.
- Fauja Singh ran his first marathon at 89.
- Grandma Moses became a folk-artist and cultural icon at 78.
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