Sophie took a deep breath. The air was fresh, despite the treacly heat. Above her, constellations of stars bedazzled the clear sky, eclipsing the crescent moon with their radiance. She realized that she didn’t want to go back to London. She wanted to stay here, where it was hot and bright and still, where she felt she could breathe again, and be calm and serene despite Matt’s passing. The stars were telling her so, just as Anna had decreed.
***
The next day, Sophie made an offer on the house that was accepted. Two days after that, she, Anna, Mileva, and Jovanka gathered at the notary’s office to sign the contract. Sophie could hardly believe the speed and efficiency of the property-buying process in Montenegro. Everything was organized in an instant. The notary demanded a court translator and one was brought from his office above a shoe shop in the old town, a tall, attractive man called Darko who sported coal-black curls like Sir Lancelot in the ballad of the Lady of Shalott, and a small beard that would not have looked out of place in Shoreditch.
Next, the notary deemed it necessary to have a psychiatrist present to vouch that Mileva was in full possession of her faculties and was not being coerced into making the sale. As these additions were asked for, Sophie squirmed at the sight of poor Jovanka’s face getting paler and paler, despite the soaring temperatures, as she saw her sale, and its commission, potentially fade away. But all was well and one Dr Simovic joined the assemblage already seated around the capacious board table.
Whilst it was all being arranged, Sophie listened to Mileva explaining to Anna her joy at the prospect of her fresh start in the Croatian retirement village. The idea of having a new life at ninety-four struck Sophie as a delightful and wondrous one. She was pretty sure Dr Simovic wouldn’t find any of this old lady’s marbles missing.
Finally, everything declared in order, the notary called all parties to attention. She was an Amazonian woman in a black leather jacket, skin-tight trousers, and high-heeled boots, who had a handshake that Sophie was sure could crush bones with ease. Terrified, she sheltered behind Anna’s capable and indomitable presence and watched silently as she slid closer and closer to doing something absolutely insane and complete unplanned. Two hours later, the contract was signed. Sophie stood outside the office in the full glare of the midday sun, reeling from the heat and shock.
She had a derelict three-hundred-year-old stone house in the Bay of Kotor and two months to find the money to pay for it.
Sophie’s mother, on being told the news, reacted with horror.
‘Montenegro? A house? Oh, Sophie, what have you done? How can you even think of leaving the country at a time like this, when you are in such a state?’
The questions were not exactly rhetorical but nevertheless Sophie did not even attempt an answer. Appalled, Helena turned to coaxing rather than admonishing. ‘I’m sure you can still pull out. There must be a clause that can be invoked. You’ve got an English translation of the contract, haven’t you?’
Sitting on the sofa in her flat, her mother in the armchair opposite, Sophie pulled her knees towards her and hugged them protectively, momentarily shutting her eyes as she mustered the energy to reply.
‘I’m sorry, Mum; I know it’s a shock. I know you think I’ve gone crazy or I’m having some sort of breakdown. But I haven’t and I’m not.’
Helena was crying and at this last remark emitted a snorting hiccup. ‘But – then – why? You’ll be all alone there; you won’t have any of your family or friends around you. Why would you do that, after all you’ve been through?’
This was a hard question to answer, mainly because Sophie wasn’t sure herself why she had bought a house and decided to move – lock, stock, and barrel – to another country. She struggled for something to say, a way to put into words without hurting her mother further what it was that had motivated her to take such a drastic step. She could hardly tell her that she had gone with Anna’s belief that it was preordained; even in her befuddled state, she knew how ridiculous that would sound.
‘Now Matt has gone, I’ll be alone no matter where I am, Mum. I can’t go back to how it was before, can’t just sink into my old life again, minus Matt. The flat, my job, this area, walks on Hampstead Heath at the weekends; they all only mean something if Matt is doing them with me. I can’t see any way forward but to change everything.’
Helena considered this wordlessly for a while. She was pursing and unpursing her lips, a mannerism Sophie had never seen in her before. She knew how much she was tearing her mother’s heart apart and she didn’t want to do that – there was enough pain floating around without adding any more – but at the same time, she wasn’t going to change her mind.
‘But what will you do for money? How will you manage?’ The stupefaction that had halted Helena momentarily dissipated as further panic on Sophie’s behalf engulfed her. ‘You know how much you love your school, all those children you teach who really need you – you’re giving up a good, secure, steady job with a decent salary and a pension, and all for what?’
‘I’ve got enough to keep going for now. The offer on the flat is excellent, I won’t have a mortgage as it’s cheap over there still, and I’ll be changing my money at a fantastic rate.’ Sophie didn’t address the comments about leaving work. She would miss it, all of it: her colleagues, the buzz of a busy school, the energy. But at the same time, she knew she couldn’t cope with it now, and perhaps not for some time. ‘When the money runs out, I’ll – well, I’ll work out what to do then.’
‘I’ve never heard you even mention things like exchange rates before.’ Helena’s retort was sharp and harsh.
Sophie ignored the implication that she didn’t know what she was talking about. ‘No, well.’ She turned to look out of the window as she fought to quell the tears. ‘There are a lot of things I didn’t concern myself with while I had Matt to sort everything out. Now I’ve no choice but to engage with them.’ She paused to sniff, fumbling in her pocket for a tissue. ‘It’ll do me good. I was far too reliant on him. I didn’t take any responsibility. I should never have let myself become so dependent …’ Her words faded away as tears overwhelmed her.
Helena, too, was crying. Taking Sophie in her arms, she buried her face in her hair and held her tight. ‘I can’t stop you from doing what you want to do,’ she muttered finally, when she had regained enough composure. ‘You know I’ll always support you. I just can’t bear to lose you.’
***
Packing up Matt’s things was even more traumatic than Sophie had envisioned. His work suits, made to measure and much prized. His unobtrusive shirts, striped or plain, in white, blue, grey, and shades in between, that personified the muted elegance and intelligence of their owner. His cycling gear that seemed to carry the imprint of his body in the Lycra fibres of each soft, dark piece, which smelt not of him but of them, of their laundry powder and their togetherness.
She put them all in bags to take to the charity shop. It was decent stuff, in good condition. Someone would probably want it, would enjoy using it. A couple of things, his favourites and so her favourites, she kept. She could not get rid of everything.
His books, journals from law school together with the odd biography – Bradley Wiggins, Mr Nice – she stacked into boxes to keep in her parents’ garage until she decided what to