Follow Me Home

by Cathy Woodman

  I grab the biggest bar of milk chocolate I can find, strip the wrapper and peel the foil away, releasing the gorgeous aroma of cocoa and sugar. I bite into it, feeling the texture strain against my teeth until it breaks and floats across my tongue, melting to a smooth, sweet silkiness. I’m in heaven, but it’s only a temporary fix because soon Claire turns up to take the blood, reminding me of Gran’s fragility all over again.

  ‘Thanks for saving us a trip to the surgery.’ I show her up to the flat where Gran is in the living room, sitting gazing at the television again. ‘Claire’s here.’ I pick up the remote and turn the TV off.

  ‘What did you do that for?’ she says.

  ‘Because I can’t hear myself think.’

  ‘Oh, hello.’ Gran turns slowly to face Claire. ‘What are you doing here, dear?’

  ‘She’s come to take some blood for that test Dr Mackie asked for.’ I start to wonder if she’s deaf, like Frosty.

  ‘It shouldn’t take long.’ Claire unpacks her bag on the side table. She applies a tourniquet to Gran’s arm, taps at the vein and slides the needle in, making Gran wince.

  ‘Oh dear, you don’t seem to have any blood today.’ Claire tries again.

  ‘The last time Dr Mackie had a go, he said it was like getting blood out of a stone,’ Gran says, and Claire rolls her eyes and says, in that case, she knows why he sent her instead of doing it himself.

  ‘Dr Mackie is a busy man,’ Gran says, excusing him.

  ‘Here we go.’ Claire loosens the tourniquet from Gran’s arm, and asks her to hold a cotton-wool ball over the site of the injection while she rolls the containers to mix the blood. ‘I’ll take these back to the surgery now and we should have a result by tomorrow lunchtime. Dr Mackie will phone you.’

  ‘I do like Dr Mackie,’ Gran says wistfully.

  ‘He might make another house-call if you’re very lucky,’ Claire teases, but she looks at me, her expression serious. I turn the television back on, sneaking the volume up a little more than normal.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Claire asks me on her way back downstairs.

  ‘Ben thinks she has some kind of dementia, not that I really needed him to confirm it.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’ She gives me a one-armed hug. ‘It isn’t the end of the world, you know.’

  ‘You’ve seen enough patients to realise that it isn’t great, though,’ I point out.

  ‘You’ll have to tell your mum and dad now, and Emily,’ Claire says. ‘You can’t keep struggling along on your own.’

  ‘I can’t . . .’

  ‘You can’t not. She’s their family, too. You can’t keep this to yourself any longer. You’ve been covering up for her, protecting her for ages now. It can’t go on. You have your own life, career, gorgeous boyfriend . . . Oh, and a dog. You’re putting everything at risk. Look at you, you’re shattered.’

  ‘I’m a bit tired,’ I admit, ’but that’s work.’

  ‘And doing the papers first thing in the morning?’

  ‘When I can, not every day.’

  ‘Promise me you’ll speak to your parents. There’s only so much you can do.’ Claire hesitates. ‘I can tell you that caring for someone with dementia is all-consuming. I know you want to do the right thing by your grandmother, but you have to think of yourself too. She wouldn’t want you to lose everything because of her.’

  ‘I can’t abandon her, not after all she’s done. When Paul and I split up, she was there for me.’ I lower my voice. ‘You all were, but in the darkest of times, when I thought I was going mad, Gran kept me going. I owe her.’ I bite back sudden tears. ‘It’s going to be tough, though, I know that. I just hope that Lewis understands.’

  ‘He will,’ she says reassuringly, ‘if he loves you.’

  ‘He hasn’t said so exactly, but I’m pretty sure he loves me. The question is, Claire, does he love me enough?’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Here Comes the Bride

  After the doctor’s visit, a week passes and I still haven’t told my parents about it, but I make the excuse that I haven’t had time to see them because I’m helping Claire with the final preparations for her wedding at the weekend.

  If she could have planned the weather, she couldn’t have done any better. When I open the curtains on her big day, I discover that it’s a magnificent September morning, bright, breezy and unseasonably warm, and perfect for dog walking. I throw on my trackies and head downstairs to pack the newspaper boy’s bag before sending him on his way.

  ‘Is Mrs Witheridge all right?’ James asks, hesitating at the door with the bag over his shoulder.

  ‘She didn’t sleep very well last night.’ I found her wandering about in the shop, eating pear drops at three in the morning. ‘Thanks for asking.’ My mobile rings. ‘I’ll see you later, James,’ I say, answering it without looking at the caller ID. ‘Hi, Lewis.’

  ‘It’s Claire, you muppet. When are you going to get here?’

  ‘Don’t panic. According to the schedule you gave me, I have another half an hour before I’m supposed to be at your mum and dad’s.’

  ‘Which one are you looking at? Which schedule?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ I stick my hand in my pocket and pull it out. ‘It’s dated last week.’

  ‘Not, that one, the one I dropped into the shop yesterday – I gave it to your gran.’

  ‘That wasn’t wise. You should have just emailed it.’

  ‘I’ll do that right now.’

  ‘No, don’t bother. Just let me know what time you want me.’

  ‘Now, Zara. I need you here now.’

  I smile to myself. ‘I need to take Frosty for a very quick walk and make sure Gran’s up and dressed before I leave. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.’

  ‘Can’t you miss walking the dog just this once?’ Claire grumbles.

  ‘Mrs Dyer’s coming in to let her out now and again during the day, and I’d like to be sure she’s settled. If I don’t keep her routine, she’ll probably start wrecking the place again. Look, I’ll be with you shortly. I promise.’

  Three hours later, Leanne and I are helping Claire and the dress out of a white limo decorated with ribbons and flowers. Leanne is Claire’s younger sister. She’s a teacher at a secondary school in South London and, since her last relationship ended a few months ago, she’s been trying to find a permanent position closer to home. She’s petite and quiet, but her hair is loud, pink with a coppery sheen which clashes with the blue bridesmaids’ dresses.

  ‘My shoe,’ Claire exclaims as she tries to step out onto the pavement outside the church. ‘It’s caught in the hem.’

  ‘Don’t move,’ I say, diving down to hunt through the acres of ivory satin and lace of her skirts and unsnag the heel of her shoe from the stitching, while Leanne holds her arm to steady her. ‘That’s it. You can relax now.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she says. ‘I’m so nervous.’

  ‘I don’t know why. You look amazing,’ Leanne reassures her.

  ‘Is my hair all right? Is my veil straight?’

  ‘It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful,’ Leanne says. ‘Now come on. Kev will be waiting.’

  Claire’s dad takes her hand and leads her towards the church where a crowd are waiting: shoppers here for Talyton St George’s Saturday market, residents, patients and passers-by. Janet, having taken a break from morning surgery, wishes Claire all the best, but I notice that Ben has been hijacked by Fifi Green who, although not invited to the wedding, is dressed for one. I spot Lewis with Gran on his arm and they join me briefly as the crowd applauds the bride and gasps at the dress and the bouquet.

  ‘I thought I’d make sure your gran turned up. I persuaded her to shut up shop for the rest of the day – I’ve left a sign on the door.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. You’re a star. By the way, is everything sorted?’ I ask. ‘Is Rob here?’

  ‘He’s waiting around the back of the church. Harry’s given him the rings. You look unbelievable, by the way.’
He smiles and kisses me on the cheek, and adds, with a wink, ‘Unbelievably blue.’

  I glance down at my gown. ‘The colour’s growing on me.’

  ‘I thought you said it didn’t suit you, but it brings out the colour of your eyes . . . and it really shows off your figure.’

  ‘Oh, he’s such a charmer,’ Gran cuts in, reminding me of her presence. ‘Don’t you think he looks handsome too, Zara?’

  ‘I do.’ Lewis looks more gorgeous than ever, clean-shaven and older somehow in a suit and tie, and the thought crosses my mind that I wouldn’t mind walking down the aisle to meet him at the altar, which is odd when I have no intention of getting married again.

  ‘I’ll catch you later.’ Lewis turns away and walks Gran down the path to the entrance to the church, where they disappear into the shadows as the best man, hot and shiny in his morning suit, comes jogging towards us with his top hat in his hand. It’s Harry, Kev’s brother.

  ‘Kev’s shitting himself.’ Harry smiles ruefully. ‘I don’t know why. I’ve told him Claire has everything under control. All he’s got to do is remember his lines and put the ring on her finger.’ He clicks his tongue. ‘Simples.’

  ‘Has Nobby turned up?’

  ‘Your uncle, the organist?’ Harry nods. ‘I dosed him up with black coffee and sat him in front of the organ. Thanks for the tip about bringing a flask.’

  ‘Come over here,’ Claire calls to me. ‘I want a photo of you, me, Dad and Leanne and the little girls before we go into the church.’

  By the little girls, she’s referring to Kev’s nieces, who are bridesmaids too.

  ‘I’ll let the groom know you’re here.’ Harry dashes off back through the churchyard, while we stand in the sunshine for photos before following Claire and her father inside the church, where the air is cool and fragrant with the scent of lilies and roses. The bride’s train brushes along the ancient stone floor between the oak pews, which are filled with her and Kev’s families and friends. I catch sight of Emily, Murray and Lewis, who is holding Poppy’s hand as she stares at Claire with wide eyes.

  Uncle Nobby’s drunken version of ‘Here Comes the Bride’ comes to a stumbling halt as Claire reaches the altar, where a rainbow of light streams through the stained-glass window above. She turns and hands me her bouquet to hold until the ceremony is over, and Leanne and I step aside to take our places in the front of the pews beside Claire’s mum, Irene, who’s weeping into a tissue.

  ‘I’m going to miss my wonderful daughter,’ she sobs quietly.

  ‘Think of it less as losing a daughter and more about gaining a son-in-law,’ Leanne says cheerfully.

  ‘Kevin?’ Irene continues to cry, taking no notice when the vicar raises one hand for silence.

  ‘Why is Claire’s princess dress too long for her, Mummy?’ pipes up a familiar voice.

  ‘It’s called a train,’ Emily says in a whisper that seems to ring out throughout the echoing chambers of the church.

  ‘It’s a dress, not a train, silly Mummy.’

  I look towards Claire to gauge her reaction but she only has eyes for her groom, whom I take it isn’t her mother’s first choice of husband for her elder daughter. I know she and Kevin have had their differences over a speeding ticket.

  ‘Any more, and you’ll have to wait outside. Got that!’ Emily hisses.

  ‘Ouch, you’re hurting me,’ Poppy wails.

  ‘I’m not touching you . . .’

  ‘You’re pinching me.’

  ‘Poppy!’ Murray picks his daughter up and hoists her onto his shoulders, ensuring quiet as the bride and groom make their vows.

  The vicar asks Harry for the rings, at which he makes a show of searching for them, patting his pockets and shaking his head, and I can see Claire is waiting and she’s just about to open her mouth to give him a good rollocking for losing them, when Rob the falconer appears in a brown jerkin and breeches from behind one of the stone pillars at the end of the aisle. A white barn owl is perched on his outstretched arm.

  ‘Oh, what’s this?’ Claire exclaims. ‘There must be some mistake. You’ve got the wrong wedding.’

  ‘Hush,’ Kev says, going on to whisper in her ear. Claire turns to me, one eyebrow raised. I nod and cross my fingers behind my back, hoping she’s going to like Lewis’s and my gift.

  Harry stands to one side of the happy couple and nods towards Rob, who releases the owl. There’s a collective gasp from the wedding guests when it soars silently along the centre of the aisle like something out of a fairytale. Harry gives the owl his cue as planned before the ceremony, but instead of swooping onto his arm, it gives him a second look and flies a circle above the altar before flying up into the tower and perching on a ledge, from which it stares down, its face like a pale disc.

  ‘What am I supposed to do now?’ Harry asks, looking towards Rob, who comes scurrying along the aisle, arm outstretched and gazing anxiously up into the arches of the tower.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get him down.’ Rob whistles. ‘Come on, Merlin.’

  Merlin refuses to budge.

  ‘I think he’s enjoying the attention,’ Leanne whispers to me.

  ‘What are we going to do if he doesn’t come down?’ I respond. ‘Claire’s going to be so upset.’

  ‘What’s the phrase? Never work with children or animals?’ Leanne says with a half-smile.

  ‘Merlin, get yourself down here, you little bugger,’ Rob mutters.

  ‘Mummy, that man sweared,’ Poppy says out loud.

  ‘Sh, you’ll frighten the owl,’ Emily says.

  ‘He won’t come down. He’s a naughty monkey, isn’t he?’ Poppy goes on.

  ‘He’s an owl actually,’ Murray says dryly.

  My neck is beginning to ache as I stare upwards, willing, praying even, for the owl to fly down, but all he does is shuffle to the end of the ledge.

  ‘Don’t go to sleep,’ Rob calls. ‘Please, don’t . . .’

  ‘How long do owls sleep for?’ I hear Claire asking. ‘Aren’t they nocturnal? He’ll be up there all day.’

  I want to run from the church in tears for letting my best friend down and ruining her big day, but I glance towards Lewis who is gazing up at the owl with an expression of shock. Apparently aware that I’m looking at him, he turns and mouths with a wry smile, ‘Owl be with you, or maybe I won’t.’ I suppress a giggle, suddenly able to see the funny side of the situation.

  ‘You think you’re such a hoot,’ I mouth back, before turning my attention back to the reluctant ring-bearer. Merlin cocks his head one way and then the other, and finally launches himself from the ledge, swooping down to Rob’s arm to a collective sigh of relief, laughter and applause.

  ‘He’s come back down.’ Poppy squeals with delight while Claire embraces Kev, dislodging her tiara and veil, which Leanne rushes forwards to put back in place.

  Harry unclips the rings with trembling fingers and places them on a velvet cloth for the vicar, before Rob carries the owl back along the aisle, allowing the wedding to continue, the only further hitch being the hitching together of Claire and Kevin as husband and wife. When Kev kisses his bride, Lewis winks at me and I blow him a kiss back. It’s strange, but I feel as if we’ve been together for ever and Paul and I never happened.

  Claire and Kev hold hands as they walk down the aisle, nodding and smiling. Leanne and I follow, along with Harry and Kev’s twin nieces in blue dresses with flowers in their hair. Outside, in the sunshine, we shower the bride and groom with a swirling confetti of rose petals before the photographer runs through Claire’s list of required poses. When it’s the turn of the groom’s family, I take a break, joining Murray and Emily.

  ‘I want an owl,’ Poppy says, tugging on her mum’s sleeve.

  ‘An owl wouldn’t make a good pet,’ Emily says. ‘They don’t always do as they’re told for a start.’

  Poppy puts her hands on her hips and tosses her ringlets. ‘I want an owl,’ she repeats belligerently.

  ‘We have owls
on the farm,’ Murray says.

  ‘When can I have a kitten?’ Poppy tries a different approach.

  ‘One day,’ Emily says, and for this occasion the response is enough. Poppy runs away with Lewis for a brief game of hide and seek amongst the gravestones, with the other little bridesmaids who are growing bored with proceedings.

  ‘It’s a shame you couldn’t bring Daisy with you,’ I say.

  ‘I understand where Claire’s coming from – she doesn’t want a crying baby ruining her day. I’m quite surprised she invited Poppy, although I’m pleased she did. It’s good to give her some time away from her little sister and vice versa – I turned my back for a second yesterday and she’d half choked Daisy on a grape. A whole grape? She’s six months old.’ Emily’s voice sounds strained.

  ‘Would having a pet distract her attentions from the baby?’ I suggest.

  ‘I’d be afraid she’d kill the pet instead. I don’t think she’s old enough to bear the responsibility, and Murray and I, we haven’t got time for anything else. It would be too much. We’re both completely frazzled by all the broken nights.’ Emily sighs. ‘I know this sounds terrible when you . . . There are days when I wish we’d never had Poppy.’

  ‘You don’t mean that.’

  ‘There are times when I do.’

  ‘It will get better, I promise.’ I want to add that one day she’ll look back and smile at the naughty things Poppy has done, but I don’t think that will help at the moment. ‘I can see you’re struggling. Just tell me what I can do.’

  Emily opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off.

  ‘Don’t try to convince me you’re coping when it’s clear you’re not, and don’t feel that you’re imposing on me. You’re my sister and I want you to be happy. Let me have Poppy for a day.’ I hold up my hand. ‘No arguments.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Emily says.

  The wedding party decamps to the Barnscote Hotel for the reception; when we arrive, Claire decides she needs a visit to the Ladies.

  ‘If I ever do this again, remind me to allow for the owl,’ she says, laughing. ‘That was genius, Zara. I’ve never seen a ring-bearing owl at a wedding. I hope someone took a picture of it when it was flying down the aisle.’