“I’m beginning to see your point,” she told her friend.
The wine was excellent and the food arrived quickly and was perfectly prepared and presented. One bottle of wine turned into two as Bessie and Mary enjoyed talking about anything and everything together.
“Crème brulee,” Mary announced as the waiter cleared her plate. “I absolutely need crème brulee.”
“Oh, me too,” Bessie said. “That’s sounds just perfect.”
“What’s it like living on your own?” Mary asked Bessie as they waited.
“I’m not sure I know how to answer that,” Bessie replied. “Especially since I’ve had a great deal of wine.”
Mary laughed. “When I drink I start to wonder why I married George,” she told Bessie in a whisper. “Sometimes I think living all alone must be wonderful. I’m quite jealous of your little flat.”
“But you love George,” Bessie objected.
“Yes,” Mary said slowly. “I suppose I do.”
Bessie wasn’t sure how to respond to that. She didn’t want to encourage Mary to tell her things she might regret talking about later.
“I lived with my parents until I married George,” Mary said now. “And once we were married, we had Georgie six months later. After the children came the staff, as well. The more money George made, the more staff he wanted around. I’m afraid I’ve quite forgotten how to cook or clean or iron.”
“You’re welcome to come and clean my cottage any time you like,” Bessie offered with a laugh.
“To be honest, I’m not very good at it,” Mary confided. “My parents had staff as well. When George and I were first married, we could only afford part-time help and I had to do some bits and pieces, but that didn’t last long. And once the children started coming, I didn’t have time to do anything but look after them, anyway.”
“I suppose it’s lucky George was so successful, then,” Bessie suggested.
“Yes, well, some of the money is mine,” Mary said. “But then George only married me for my money.”
Bessie gasped. “You don’t mean that,” she said.
Mary shrugged. “It’s probably the wine talking,” she admitted. “But I do wonder. We’re nothing alike, George and I, and I can’t imagine why he married me sometimes.”
“Opposites attract,” Bessie put forward.
“I was so madly in love that I never thought about it,” Mary confided. “He completely swept me off my feet. He was so charming and smart and funny, and I was overwhelmed. I was deliriously happy in those early days.”
“I’m told that sort of love never lasts,” Bessie said cautiously.
“No, I suppose it can’t,” Mary said. “But we were always very happy, anyway.”
“And you still are,” Bessie said, anticipating the reply she would get.
“Yes, well, I don’t know about that,” Mary said.
“Mary, I’m happy to listen to anything you want to tell me, but I’m not sure I’m the right person to talk to about this. Maybe you should talk to one of your friends who’s married herself.”
Mary shook her head. “You’re the perfect person for me to talk to,” she told Bessie. “Because you have a totally different and unique perspective on things. And because I know you won’t repeat anything I say.”
“That’s true,” Bessie acknowledged.
“Anyway, I’m not telling you anything I haven’t told George a dozen times this week. We’re drifting apart and it bothers me. The last year has been, well, difficult for me and for us as a couple, but George doesn’t seem to notice or mind.”
“So you’ve only been having problems since you moved to the island?” Bessie asked.
Mary shrugged. “We weren’t as close as I might have liked before, but it’s much worse now. George is working at least as much as he did before he ‘retired’ and he’s spending a lot of time with Grant Robertson, even though he knows I don’t like the man.”
“You said they’re old friends, right?”
“Yes, from before George moved to the UK. Although I don’t know how close they were. I never met him before we moved here.”
“Really?” Bessie asked. “Did they stay in touch over the years?”
“I have no idea,” Mary said with a sigh. “George never mentioned him, but he was one of our first visitors when we moved back.” She shrugged. “I just don’t like him, but I pretend to for George’s sake.”
“That can’t be easy,” Bessie murmured.
“I’m looking forward to hearing what you think of him, after Friday,” Mary continued. “I think you’re a very astute judge of character.”
Bessie shook her head. “I don’t know about that,” she said. “I’ve been introduced to him once or twice before. I’m certainly not looking forward to getting to know him better, after everything you’ve said.”
“But it might just be me,” Mary said. “He does take George away from me a great deal. Maybe I’m just jealous,” Mary tried to laugh, but the sound was choked.
“I thought you moved back here so George could retire,” Bessie said.
“So did I,” Mary replied. “For the first few months, George only worked a few hours a week and we spent a lot of time together. He even started to show an interest in the grandchildren. Since then though, things keep cropping up. George calls them ‘little projects,’ and they seem to take more and more of his time. It seems like every time Grant visits, a new ‘little project’ is added to George’s work load.”
Bessie shook her head. “And you’ve told George how you feel?”
“I have,” Mary said, draining her wine glass. “He keeps telling me to be patient, that he’s just helping Grant out on a few things, but now he’s gone and hired Michael to help him as well. I know Michael needed the work, but surely he could have gone to work for Grant, not George?”
Mary sighed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to complain all night,” she said quietly.
“You haven’t been complaining all night,” Bessie said. “And even if you had been, that’s what friends are for. I’m just sorry I can’t help in any way.”
“At least after Friday you can share you thoughts on Grant with me,” Mary said, a forced smile on her lips. “I’m hoping you hate him.”
“I’ll hate him,” Bessie told her. “Just for you.”
Now Mary managed a genuine smile. “That’s good of you,” she replied. “But I don’t think you’ll have to do it for me. He’s a really unlikable person.”
“So why is George friends with him?”
“That’s an excellent question,” Mary said. “He’s usually a better judge of character.”
The conversation turned back to more general topics as they women finished the last of the second bottle of wine. Mary rang for their car as Bessie settled the bill.
“He’s on his way,” she told Bessie. “Maybe we should wait outside. I probably could use some fresh air.”
Bessie nodded. “We did drink rather a lot of wine,” she said. “Fresh air sounds wonderful.”
The women made their way very carefully out of the restaurant. The evening was still warm and they enjoyed the short wait for the car. They chatted lightly about nothing as the driver made his way to Bessie’s cottage.
“I had a wonderful time,” Mary told Bessie as she walked her to her door.
“I did as well,” Bessie replied. “Once I’m in Douglas, we’ll have to do this more often.”
“I’d really like that,” Mary said with some intensity.
Inside her little cottage, Bessie quickly got ready for bed. With all of the borrowed furniture in place in her little flat in Douglas, all she needed to do was pack her clothes and her kitchen things and she could move in. She fell asleep thinking that there was no reason to delay. Tomorrow would be moving day.
Chapter Nine
When she woke up the next morning with only a slight headache, Bessie decided that she’d been right the night before. If she started finding excuses to delay the
move, she would never actually do it. After a quick breakfast of cereal and tea, she took a short walk on the beach. It felt different today, knowing it would be her last walk on this particular beach for a while.
The holiday cottages were, for the most part, still quiet, but Bessie saw a few lights on in a few windows. A small child was drawing a picture on the wall in one cottage and Bessie could only hope that he wasn’t using permanent markers. Thomas painted all of the flats every autumn, after the rental season; he wouldn’t want to have to do it mid-season as well.
Once she’d reached the stairs to Thie yn Traie, she turned around. On her way home, she spotted Spencer on his patio and she gave him a friendly wave.
“Oh, Bessie, it’s good to see you,” he called across the sand.
Bessie stopped as he was walking towards her. “Good morning, Spencer,” she said. “How are you this morning?”
“I’m wonderful,” he replied with a bright smile. “I was offered the perfect job yesterday. Not only is it in my field, doing what I love, but they’ve offered to pay some of the cost of moving me back to the island, as well.”
“Oh, Spencer, how wonderful,” Bessie said, delighted for the man.
“And I have you to thank for it,” Spencer continued. “One of the names you gave me, well, when I rang him, he gave me the lead on the job.”
“I’m glad I could help,” Bessie said.
“You were wonderful and I owe you a huge favour,” Spencer said. “What can I do for you?”
Bessie laughed. “I can’t imagine,” she said.
“I can,” Spencer grinned. “Do you need a ride anywhere today, for instance? I don’t have any plans for the day and I have my car full of petrol and ready to go.”
Bessie started to shake her head and then stopped. “I don’t want to impose,” she began.
“Oh, please, impose,” Spencer said with a laugh. “I owe you a lot. Not only did you help me find the perfect job, but, well, I met someone special as well.” He flushed and looked at the sand.
“Someone special? Do tell,” Bessie said.
“When I went to the interview for this job, she was there. She was actually interviewing for a different job at the same company. We were both really early, and we started talking about how we both always feel like we need to be early for things. Anyway, after I had my interview, I waited for her to come out of hers and we got a coffee. Her name is Beverly and she’s really sweet.”
“How wonderful for you,” Bessie said, feeling happy for Spencer and relieved for Doona. Bessie knew her friend had been feeling bad about dumping the extremely nice man, even though they weren’t well suited.
“As it happens, she didn’t get the job she interviewed for, but she was offered a different one elsewhere that she’s really excited about. We’re having dinner tonight to celebrate both of our new positions.”
“It all sounds wonderful,” Bessie replied.
“But that leaves me with my whole day free to help you with whatever errands you need to run,” Spencer continued. “Where can I take you?”
Bessie hesitated for just a moment. “Would you like to move me to Douglas?” she asked.
Spencer quickly nodded. “I’m happy to do it, but I only have a sedan. I’m not sure how much furniture will fit in it.”
Bessie laughed. “All of the furniture is already in Douglas,” she assured the man. “I just need to move my clothes and my kitchen things. I can probably manage that in just a few boxes and a suitcase or two.”
“In that case, we might be able to do it in one trip,” Spencer said. “Are you ready now?”
“No, not yet,” Bessie replied, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. “How about if you come over for lunch? I should be able to get everything packed by then and I’ll make us a quick lunch from everything perishable in my refrigerator. Then we have the afternoon to move me, if that works for you.”
“It’s perfect,” Spencer assured her. “Are you sure you don’t want some help with packing?”
“I can manage,” Bessie insisted. “I’ll see you around midday.”
Bessie walked back to her cottage with a bit more urgency in her step. There was no going back now; she was moving today, ready or not.
By the time Spencer arrived for lunch, Bessie had everything she wanted to take to Douglas packed up and ready to go.
“I hope sandwiches are okay for lunch,” she told the man after she’d answered his knock. “And I hope paper plates are acceptable, as well. I’ve packed my everyday dishes.”
Spencer laughed. “I live alone. Paper plates are about all I have.”
Bessie pulled out all of the sandwich fixings, and the pair quickly put their lunches together. “Would you like tea or coffee?” Bessie offered.
“I’ll just have something cold,” Spencer replied. “You probably want to pack your kettle.”
“I already did,” Bessie admitted. “But I know exactly where it is. I could have grabbed it back out if you wanted a hot drink.”
“With the temperatures where they are today, the last thing I want is a hot drink,” Spencer said.
After lunch, where Bessie filled Spencer in on all of her plans, she quickly tidied her small kitchen. She tied up her rubbish bag and put it in the bin outside her back door.
“What day do the bin men come?” Spencer asked. “I’ll pop over and put your bin out for you.”
“Ah, thanks,” Bessie replied. “But they’ll grab it from behind the cottage. They always do.”
Spencer loaded the boxes full of kitchenware into the boot of his car and then carefully added the two suitcases full of clothes as well. “Is that everything?” he asked.
Bessie frowned. “It doesn’t seem like much,” she said, with a bit of a catch in her voice.
“But it’s only a holiday, right?” Spencer asked gently. “If you decide to move properly, you’ll have ever so much more to take.”
Bessie nodded. “I suppose so,” she said.
“Shall we go, then?”
Bessie took a deep breath and then took a long look around her kitchen. She felt tears beginning to fill her eyes and shook her head. “This is silly,” she said loudly. “I can come home any time I want.”
“Of course you can,” Spencer replied. “I’m not even clear on why you’re going in the first place.”
Bessie laughed. “Neither am I,” she said after a moment. “But I must think of it as an adventure.”
“Let’s get the adventure started then, shall we?” Spencer held out an arm and Bessie took it with a shaky smile.
“Let’s do that,” she agreed.
Spencer chatted all the way to Douglas about all sorts of inconsequential nonsense. While the non-stop noise was irritating, Bessie was grateful that he didn’t give her time to think about what she was undertaking. By the time he pulled up at Seaside Terrace, Bessie was focussed on helping Bahey and enjoying the change of scenery.
Spencer found a spot in the small car park and followed Bessie up to the building. She pushed the main doorbell and then pulled the door open when the lock release buzzed.
“Ah, Ms. Cubbon, so nice to see you again.” The building manager jumped to his feet and rushed over to the door to greet Bessie obsequiously.
“It’s good to be finally moving in,” Bessie said with forced enthusiasm. “I’ll just need my keys.”
“Of course, of course,” the man said, beaming at her. He went back behind his small table and dug around in a box on top of it. After a moment, he pulled out a small key ring.
“Here you are,” he told Bessie, handing her the ring. “The large key is the front door to the flat. The slightly smaller one opens the front door to the building. The smallest key is the key to your postbox.”
“Thank you,” Bessie said politely. She turned and headed for the lift, with Spencer on her heels. It arrived quite quickly and seemed to working much more smoothly than it had been when she’d visited with Alan Collins.
“T
here was something about him I didn’t like,” Spencer told Bessie as they rode the lift up to the first floor.
“Can you be more specific?” Bessie asked.
Spencer shrugged. “Not really, just something bothered me for some reason. Maybe it was the ill-fitting suit or the greasy hair. Maybe it was because he smelled like cheap cologne. I just wouldn’t trust him if I couldn’t see him, and even then I’d worry.”
Bessie smiled. “I feel much the same about him,” she replied.
On the first floor, Bessie quickly unlocked the door to her borrowed flat. She walked in and gave her new home a good look.
“It’s nice,” Spencer said from behind her. “Okay, the views aren’t great, but the layout is efficient and the furniture is all gorgeous.”
“The furniture is all on loan from a friend,” Bessie told him. “I’m sure it’s all much nicer than my own things.”
Spencer shook his head. “You have amazing antiques,” he said. “These are all much more modern, but they’re very well made and they really suit the space.”
Bessie laughed. “I only have antiques because I bought all sorts of new furniture when I first bought my cottage. I guess that makes me an antique as well.”
“I’d call you a classic,” Spencer told her with a wink. “And before I get myself into any more trouble, I’ll go and get your things.”
While Spencer made several trips from the flat to his car and back again, carrying in all of Bessie’s belongings, Bessie took another look at her new home. In the bedroom she patted her new mattress that had already been put into place on the bed frame. There was a large bag in the corner from the same shop and Bessie checked that the bedding she’d purchased had been delivered as well. At some point, she’d get the bed made up but for now she headed back into the main room.
It felt reasonably spacious, or at least not cramped, but that was mostly because she had a limited amount of furniture. Compared to her cottage, it was considerably smaller. She found the box with the kettle in it and immediately set it up on the kitchen counter. Once she’d filled it and switched it on, she located mugs and teabags. The kettle boiled just as Spencer carried in her last suitcase.
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