Funerals are never cheerful events and Patricia was never a cheerful person but George did her proud at the service, even making a little joke.
‘Unlike most of my deceased customers, Patricia knows her stuff when it comes to funerals, so I promise you, Pat,’ he said, looking at the large coffin, ‘I’ll be sure not to skip a single word of the litanies or prayers . . .’
After that, though, he was duly reverent and Morag and I decided his solemnity made him even more attractive. Afterwards, at the wake in the parish hall opposite, Harry strode towards us carrying a handful of sherries.
‘I’m afraid this is all that’s on offer,’ he said with a grimace.
‘Better than nothing,’ Morag laughed, taking hers. ‘Oh no, poor George has got stuck with Audrey the choir mistress. I’d better rescue him.’ She quickly extracted George from Audrey and began chatting with him, smiling with a cute wrinkle of her nose.
‘Well, cheers,’ said Harry, clinking glasses with me.
‘Actually, I like sherry,’ I told him. ‘It makes me feel all Christmassy. And I need a bit of a boost.’
‘Well, that’s not surprising with everything that’s happened. How’s Enid?’
‘Bad . . . She does this thing – it’s happened a few times in her life. She withdraws and then she stops showering and eating . . .’ I paused, willing back the tears that I could feel prickling at my eyes. ‘She’s refusing to talk to poor Fred and he has no idea quite what a state she’s in; he’s planning to fly over this weekend!’
Harry looked concerned. ‘Would you like me to talk to her? I know what we’re dealing with, at least, and maybe she’ll listen to someone who’s not quite so close to her.’
‘Oh, would you? Harry, you’re a star!’
‘No trouble at all. I don’t need to be back at school until after lunch.’
We briefed Morag on our plan and as soon as it was polite to leave, Harry walked with me to Enid’s cottage. She didn’t answer the door so I used my spare key, even though she hates me doing that. She needs her privacy, I get that, but sometimes I need to know she’s okay. We found her in bed, asleep.
‘Don’t disturb her,’ whispered Harry. ‘Let’s have a drink downstairs and wait for her to wake up.’
I managed to rustle up more than just a drink. There was lots in the fridge – I’d been trying to tempt Enid with all sorts of things – so I put together some cheese and ham and bread, heated some soup, and uncorked a bottle of wine, making a mental note to replace it later with one of my own. Our lunch was convivial and I’d almost forgotten we were in Enid’s house and not my own when Enid appeared in the kitchen in her pyjamas, her hair all over the place.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked. She didn’t seem too pleased.
‘Oh, I hope you don’t mind, Enid, but Harry wanted a word with you and you were asleep so I offered him some lunch . . .’
Enid nodded, looking resigned. ‘Might as well, I suppose. It’ll only go off.’
‘Can I get you anything? Some soup, maybe?’
Enid shook her head. ‘A glass of wine,’ she said.
I hesitated but then poured a small one and passed it to her. She shuffled along in her slippers to the armchair by the picture window, looking out over the steely sea on this utterly miserable day.
‘I’d have been in the sunshine by now,’ she mused, taking a sip of her drink. She winced. I could imagine it burning her empty insides.
‘You still could. I mean, if you change your mind . . .’
‘How many times do I have to tell you, Bess, I’m not leaving home again!’ Enid said sharply. ‘I can’t bear it,’ she added with a softer voice, wiping away a tear. ‘My worst fears came true. It’s just made me feel so powerless. So hopeless . . .’
‘That’s completely understandable,’ Harry said comfortingly. ‘I think in your situation anyone would feel the same. But how about if Fred was to come and visit you here?’
I waited, holding my breath, for Enid’s answer. Come on, I willed her. Say yes, please, please say yes.
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I feel bad for him, I really do. But I’m not sure about my feelings for him now. It’s like . . . it’s like it wasn’t meant to be. I made the wrong decision. I can’t stop thinking about that. I was at the postbox that day – you know, when I sent Fred my answer – and this postman turned up and asked me if I wanted him to take my letters. He rushed me and I ended up giving him the letter saying yes. Maybe if I’d been allowed to give it a bit more thought, I’d have made the right decision.’
Harry and I looked at each other. How on earth could we try to deal with that sort of thinking? But before either of us could reply, realisation suddenly seemed to dawn on Enid.
‘He’s not going to come here, is he, Bess? Please tell me he isn’t? Promise me!’ she said, her golden eyes pleading.
I hesitated a moment too long, but Enid seemed reassured when I replied, ‘Of course not! I promise!’ I turned away, took a deep breath and tried to prepare myself for the agony of telling Fred.
Chapter Twenty-six
Saturday 16 December 2017
Fred
There were a couple of missed calls from an unknown number on Fred’s mobile when he woke up on Saturday morning. He’d just finished packing (again) and was about to call it back when the doorbell rang.
‘Todd! How’re you going?’
‘All good, mate, all good. So you managed to book the ticket? You got the money okay?’
‘Sure did, you’re a true lifesaver. You gave me way too much, though . . .’
‘Keep it for now – the way your life’s going at the mo, you never know when you might need it!’
‘Thanks a million, mate. I’m so embarrassed . . .’
‘You don’t need to be. I know you’ll pay me back.’
‘Of course, as soon as this damned house has sold I’ll pay you back with interest.’
‘Whatever,’ Todd smiled. ‘Come on, let’s get going,’ he said, picking up Fred’s case and throwing it into the back of the ute.
Fred smiled too, massively relieved to have sorted out his finances. He just couldn’t wait to get to Enid now. On the way to the airport he remembered about the missed calls. He called the number but no answer – just a voicemail message: ‘Hi, this is Bess. Please leave a message after the tone.’
Enid’s sister. Fred frowned. He hoped Enid was okay. He left a message.
‘Fred here. Just on my way to the airport. Call me if you can. Hope everything’s okay. I get into the UK in the middle of the night so I’m on an early flight to Jersey tomorrow morning. It’ll be good to meet you. Send my love to Enid! Tell her I’ll be there soon!’
Fred felt like he was becoming pretty familiar with Perth airport. After Todd dropped him off he checked in, went through security, had a nice meal at a little café and then found his gate. As he always did when he travelled (which hadn’t been for a long while), he waited for everyone else to board first. Satisfied that he was the last passenger remaining, he picked up his backpack and allowed himself a stretch before the long, cramped journey. He was just handing over his boarding pass when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.
He waited for the man to check his documents then paused on the gangway down to the plane to answer the call.
‘G’day,’ he said.
‘Fred, thank goodness, I’m so sorry we haven’t managed to get hold of each other. Listen, I know you’re meant to be flying today, but I’m afraid I have bad news. It’s Enid.’
Fred felt his heart begin to pound. ‘Is she okay? What’s happened?’
‘Oh no, she’s fine, don’t worry. It’s just . . . she’s in a bit of a dark place right now after everything that happened at the airport. She’s not that brilliant mentally, to be quite honest.’
‘Yeah, I got that impression when we spoke the other day. Look, I’m not going to expect anything of her. I understand how much it will all have affected her. I just want t
o see her; to try to help her feel better. I’m just about to board the plane, actually, so I can’t be long . . .’
‘You’re about to board right now?’ Bess sounded alarmed.
‘Bess, what’s the problem? You thought it was a good idea, didn’t you? That I should travel over? Have you changed your mind?’
‘No,’ Bess answered. ‘No, I haven’t changed my mind. Look, I’m sorry – I don’t know how to say this. You see, it’s Enid. Enid doesn’t want you to. She’s made me promise that you won’t visit. Fred, I’m so sorry.’
Fred felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. ‘But why? I know she’s had a shock, but why should that change anything between us? She said she loved me!’ A cabin crew member walked past and glanced at Fred. He felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment and emotion.
‘She’ll see sense, I know she will. It’s just a matter of timing. I’m really sorry, but she simply isn’t ready yet.’
Fred took a deep breath. ‘I understand,’ he said shakily. He could feel tears welling up and he wiped them away angrily. He wasn’t a crier. He’d barely even cried when his mum had died. ‘Bess, I’m sorry you’re caught in the middle of this, but could you pass a message on to Enid for me?’
‘Of course I can. Anything I can do to help . . .’
‘Tell her it’s over.’
Fred switched off his phone. He wanted to throw it, to smash it to pieces, but even in his lowest moment he was conscious of the financial impact that would have on him. He walked back along the gangway towards the gate.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said to the man on the desk. ‘I don’t need this flight after all.’
‘It’s a bit late for that, mate,’ the guy laughed.
‘You can’t force me to travel,’ Fred replied. The man stopped laughing and looked at Fred suspiciously. He immediately dialled a number on the phone at his desk. Hours later, after several explanations and a lot of waiting around, Fred was reunited with his suitcase and escorted out of the airport building. He didn’t want to waste Todd’s money on a cab, so he went to the bus stop and checked the timetable. Almost an hour until the one he needed, but he could wait. After all, there was nothing and nobody expecting him. In all his life, Fred had never felt so desolate and alone.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Saturday 16 December 2017
Enid
I reached my lowest point yesterday. I’d been asleep and was riled to wake up to find Bess and Harry Harrison making free with my wine in the kitchen. It put me on the wrong foot. I got cross with Bess when she suggested I could still go to Perth and then I made her promise that poor Fred won’t come over to Jersey. At that moment, feeling sad and angry, I just couldn’t bear the thought of it.
Then, this afternoon, Clifford kept getting under my feet. I couldn’t think why, so I went through to the utility room and realised there was no food in his bowl! Clifford is a grazer and likes to help himself so I always keep his bowl full. In that moment I saw myself for who I really am. Or, at least, for who I can sometimes be. Someone selfish. Maybe it’s the Asperger’s, maybe it’s not, but I know that I’m always fixated with how I feel: sometimes excessively so. Seeing that I’d forgotten to feed the love of my life brought me up short. It was like a slap round the face. I begged him to forgive me, filled his food and water bowls, found him some extra treats. I checked on the hedgehogs, too, then hurried back inside and upstairs to run the bath.
I scrubbed and scrubbed and then washed my hair. Feeling pink and spruce, I found some nicely ironed clothes and put those on. I cleaned my teeth and brushed my hair dry. Then I dashed around downstairs, making everywhere tidy. The activity made me feel hungry so I made myself a cheese-and-tomato sandwich and a cup of tea before finally heading back up to my bedroom. It felt stuffy, so I drew back the curtains (Bess chose them: they’re a nice calm taupe and white, like my bed linen) and opened the windows. A fresh waft of seaside air gushed into the room. I tidied a few bits and pieces away and then took out my letters and photos of Fred from my bedside drawer, laying them all out on the bed.
Looking at the pictures of him was like another slap round the face. How could I have said to Bess that I’m not sure about my feelings for Fred any more? It isn’t true. I did feel numb and sad and hopeless for a few days, but my feelings for Fred hadn’t disappeared. They’d just been hiding. I found my phone and rang Bess.
‘Why are you calling?’ she asked. ‘I’m only next door.’
‘I just need to ask something, really quickly.’
‘Okay . . . You sound better – how are you feeling?’
‘Yes, fine,’ I replied. ‘Much better. I’ve had a sandwich. But listen, I just need to check. I know I said I didn’t want Fred to visit, and I meant it when I said it, but . . . well, I’m feeling differently again now. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t tell Fred?’
There was a small pause. ‘Tell Fred what?’
‘That I didn’t want him to visit? I’d hate him to think I don’t love him any more. I know it’s probably not realistic, but actually I’d love it if he came over!’
‘You’ve changed your tune!’
‘You know what I’m like . . . It was everything that happened – it threw me. I told you, I just needed time.’
‘I’m so glad you’re feeling better, sweetheart. Look, why don’t I just let Fred know that you’re back to normal before you contact him? I was the last one who spoke to him so it makes sense.’
‘Oh, okay. I was going to call him, but if you think that’s best?’
‘Yes, definitely. Look, I’ll give him a call today, say you’re much better and that you’d like to chat. I’ll ask him to call you, okay?’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘And I was thinking . . . Yesterday, I heard you and Harry Harrison talking about the school play when I was on my way down the stairs. You said the kids might find it useful for someone to chat to them about woodland animals, to get them more interested in the play. I’m going to tell him that I’m happy to help. I’d like to do it.’
‘Fantastic!’ said Bess. She sounded surprised but delighted. ‘And Enid . . . I’m so pleased you’re feeling better.’
Chapter Twenty-eight
Saturday 16 December 2017
Bess
I felt sick. Could the timing have been any worse?
I rang Fred immediately but his phone was engaged, which was strange as it must have been super-late over there. I kept trying every half an hour until I realised. I remembered Morag once accidentally blocked me as a caller and I just kept getting an engaged tone when I tried to ring her. Fred must have blocked me! And if he’d blocked me, then he’d almost certainly have done the same to Enid. I tried Harry instead.
‘Oh, hello,’ he said. ‘I’ve been talking about you. Your ears must have been burning. George has just left: we had our meeting with Melissa and he was our mediator, like you suggested . . .’
‘Oh yes, of course. What happened?’ I asked.
‘Looks like George managed to convince her to wait until Dan’s of an age when he can make a decision about the trials himself. At least until he’s sixteen. And in the meantime I’m going to look into getting him some more advanced therapy in Jersey, so we can be sure he gets the support he needs while he’s growing up.’
‘What a result!’
‘I hope it’s the right one – it’s so hard to know. But that’s not why you’re calling. What’s up?’
‘I won’t keep you, Harry, it’s just that things have moved on since yesterday in relation to Fred and Enid . . .’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, first of all I told Fred not to fly over and he said to tell Enid their relationship’s over – which I haven’t – and now Enid’s suddenly come to her senses and wants to talk to Fred and says she feels as strongly about him as she ever did!’
‘I know this sounds obvious, but have you tried calling Fred?’
‘Yes, but he’s blocked me! I expect he’s done the same with Enid.
What am I going to do?’
‘He’ll be smarting at the moment. Give him a few days – he’ll probably unblock you both.’
‘But what do I tell Enid? If I tell her the truth it might set her back.’
‘Maybe a little white lie? Perhaps Fred’s gone away for a few days? Buy yourself a bit of time.’
‘Genius idea! Thanks so much, Harry. I’d better go but I’ll see you soon!’
It was time for my shift at the pub but I dropped in on Enid on my way. I found her in the shed replenishing the hedgehog food. It’s lovely and warm in there, as she likes to keep them snug.
‘How are the baby ones doing?’ I asked.
‘Good,’ Enid smiled. ‘They’ve reached the right weight to hibernate now, and they look like they’re winding down. They’ve got a nice nest box. I don’t think it’ll be long. So, did you speak to him?’ she asked. She looked so much better, I thought. Thin and fragile, but her eyes were bright.
‘I did, but he was just about to go away for a few days, staying with friends or something. Said he might not get any mobile reception, so he said to send his love and tell you that he’ll be in touch when he can, but it might not be for a few days.’ I felt awful lying, but what was the alternative?
Enid looked disappointed. ‘It’s going to feel like forever.’
‘You just need to keep busy. Look, why don’t you do a bit of painting while I’m at work and then this evening maybe you could help me put up my Christmas decorations? I can’t believe I haven’t got round to it yet – I’ve never left it so late before.’
‘You Christmas crazy,’ Enid laughed. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you later.’
The Christmas Forest Page 9