And then, just when Saffron needed her the most, Caroline had decided to do her moonlit flit. Something to do with a bloke, no doubt, knowing Caroline, but she hadn’t thought it necessary to furnish Saffron with the details.
So instead of lazy days in the sun with Pete and Ellie (not that there had been much sun, but still …), Saffron had spent the week poring over figures and ringing disgruntled clients, to reassure them that yes, gardens would be weeded, hedges would be trimmed and lawns would be mowed – eventually. Pete had been a great help, going out on a couple of occasions to tackle some particularly difficult jobs in between his work as a marketing manager for a computer firm, but at best his help was a sop to the real problem. There was simply too much work for Saffron alone. Added to which, Caroline might be flaky as hell, but she had a good eye for design and the clients liked her. Her loss to the business was incalculable. And even supposing Saffron was to find a new partner who matched up, she probably didn’t have the funds to pay for the help anyway.
A contented sigh indicated that Ellie had had enough. Saffron picked her up, burped her, checked her nappy and popped her back into her basket. Then she climbed back into bed and snuggled up to Pete, who cuddled reassuringly back. There would be other nights for sex. There was no point staying awake brooding on her problems – she was getting little enough sleep as it was. Maybe tomorrow everything would look different. And maybe pigs would grow wings.
‘That’s the lot then.’ The removal man poked his head round the door, where Mary and Amy were sipping a final cup of tea, sitting on the last few boxes, which Amy was planning to shove in the back of the car. Josh was running round in circles, impersonating an aeroplane, and Amy was doing her best not to let it get under her skin. She could tell Mary was thinking the same thing.
‘Right.’ Amy took a deep breath and gave a bright smile. ‘Well. See you in Suffolk then.’
The removal man nodded and left the room.
‘Come on, Josh,’ said Amy, ‘we’d best get going.’
She staggered out to the car with the remaining boxes, while Mary washed the teacups up. She’d brought her own kettle and cups, as Amy had already packed hers. Amy hadn’t wanted Mary to come over, but Mary had insisted. As Mary in full flow had the unstoppable force of an erupting volcano, Amy knew better than to try to dissuade her.
The trouble was, now it was finally time to go, last-minute doubts were beginning to creep in, and Amy didn’t want Mary witnessing her weakness. Only this morning, Amy had folded up the sheets on her bed, packed away the photo of Jamie that always sat by her bedside, and burst into tears at the thought of leaving the flat. She remembered the first night they had moved in: Jamie mucking about, insisting he carry her over the threshold.
‘But we’re not married yet,’ Amy had laughed.
‘Doesn’t matter, we’re as good as,’ was Jamie’s response, before picking her up and swinging her through into the lounge, mock-complaining all the while that she’d put on weight.
He wouldn’t be saying that now. Amy was aware of how painfully thin she had become since Jamie had died. Stick insect, he’d be calling her, if he were still here. He had welcomed the extra curves that came with Josh, but they’d all fallen away in the months since he’d gone.
And what would he make of her face? He’d always teased her about her long corkscrew curls and called her his pre-Raphaelite beauty. It was true her long fair curls could still be classed as such, but she knew there was a slightly haunted look in her face now – actually, haggard would probably be a better word for it. Would he find her beautiful any more? Amy didn’t think so. She felt pale and wan; a shadow of her former self.
Amy made her way back into the flat. The empty flat. Shorn of all its homeliness. Every last vestige of her life with Jamie had been removed. She felt as though she had ripped out its soul. And, with it, hers. Oh God, what was she doing?
Amy shut the door with a decisive bang. This was no good. Mary had spent the morning making polite conversation with barely suppressed fury. If Amy lost it now, it would give her mother-in-law the perfect opportunity to say ‘I told you so’.
Josh ran towards her. ‘Is it time to go yet?’ he said. ‘I’m bored.’
‘Yup, sweetheart, it is,’ Amy replied. ‘Have you been to the loo?’
Josh pulled a face. ‘Granny made me,’ he grumbled.
‘Well, it’s a long journey,’ said Amy. ‘Granny was right.’
Mary was ostentatiously clattering around in the kitchen. Her heels echoed on the bare floor. Amy was aware once again of the emptiness of the flat. Of the emptiness of Mary’s life now she was taking Josh out of it.
‘So, this is it.’ Mary finished what she was doing and came and stood, stiffly and formally, holding out her hand. As if they meant no more to each other than polite strangers. As if they hadn’t shared all that grief, all that heartache.
‘Yes.’ Amy swallowed. She wanted to give Mary a long hug, but the negative vibes that were bristling off Jamie’s mother gave her little choice.
‘Josh, come and say goodbye to the flat.’
Josh ran in and out of the bedrooms, the small lounge and the tiny kitchen diner.
‘Goodbye-goodbye-goodbye,’ he called, not appreciating the enormity of what he was saying before descending once more into aeroplane territory.
‘Josh, do be quiet!’ Mary snapped.
Unused to Mary telling him off, Josh stopped short and his little face puckered up with tears.
‘Was that strictly necessary?’ Amy couldn’t help but rise to her son’s defence.
‘He needed to be told,’ said Mary. ‘You’re too soft on him.’
‘And you’re being too hard.’ Amy regretted the comment as soon as it was out. Mary was a doting granny, and without her Amy wouldn’t have coped over the last two years.
‘I see,’ said Mary. ‘I was too hard all the times I cuddled him while he cried when you went out to work. I was too hard the times I took him to the doctor when you couldn’t. I’m not the one taking him away from everything he knows and loves. I wouldn’t say I was the hard one, would you?’
Amy looked at Mary aghast. ‘That’s not what I meant,’ she said shakily.
Mary shrugged her shoulders and turned to give Josh a cuddle. Josh had stopped crying now and started being an aeroplane again. Oh to have the resilience of a child, thought Amy in silent dismay. She couldn’t leave Mary like this. For Jamie’s sake, she couldn’t. A sudden memory of Jamie laughing at her one day when she had been fuming about his mother’s interference took her breath away.
‘Come on, Ames,’ he had said. ‘She means well. And we’re all she’s got. Give her a break.’
Jamie would never have wanted this.
‘Mary, I’m sorry,’ said Amy. ‘Please don’t let’s fall out.’
Mary said nothing and looked away. If Amy hadn’t known better she could have sworn that a tear trickled down Mary’s face. But Amy had never seen Mary cry. Not even at Jamie’s funeral. She was the strong silent type – whatever crying she may have done over her son, she had done it alone.
‘Please, Mary,’ said Amy. ‘For Jamie’s sake. And Josh’s. We’ve been through so much together. Don’t let’s spoil it.’