‘… and you have to promise me that you won’t forget, Santa. I don’t want my daddy to think I’ve forgotten him. You can’t send presents to people who are in heaven, even though you can speak to them, of course. So I need you to take him something special from Mummy and me. I’ll let you know when the chimney is fixed. And I’ll leave you some extra biscuits on Christmas Eve. Thank you.’
A lump rises in my throat as the voice trails off into silence. No wonder the lady is so reserved; she’s not divorced, as I’d assumed, she’s a widow. I wonder when exactly her husband died. Her daughter is a really cute kid, bright and very polite. Christmas can’t be easy for them; it’s a hard time of year when you have to live with regrets. I’ll be with my parents this year for the first time since I left home when I was eighteen. Never thought I’d find myself back there at Christmas, staying in my old bedroom as if being married and becoming a dad is merely a dream.
I wonder if Elana heard her daughter’s plea, too. It’s none of my business, but it’s probably the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. Right, time to get off this roof and drink that tea before I set off home for the day.
Keeping the Client Happy
‘Everything alright, my son?’ Dad’s voice booms down the line. Mrs James let me know he’d called in shortly after I left to run my errand.
‘Yep. You know what kids are like; Anita had run out of medicine and was worried Joe was getting an ear infection. He was fine when I saw him, briefly. I wasn’t invited inside.’
Dad makes a sound like ‘harrumph’.
‘Just do what you can, when you can, Luke. The little dude might not be aware of it yet, but he’s lucky to have a dad who cares so much.’
It matters to me that my dad thinks that, although I’ve failed to give Joe the stable family unit he deserves. Maybe if I’d made the effort to take Anita out more, rather than assuming she was happy enough with a life that centred around just the three of us, we’d have stayed together. I thought that was what we both wanted, and I sure got that wrong!
‘Thanks. Is Ma there?’
I hear him call out, ‘Sally, it’s your favourite son on the phone.’
A few seconds later Mum picks up the receiver.
‘Only because he’s my only son,’ she comments, laughing. ‘How are you, Luke – and Joe?’
‘I’m fine, really. I just wanted you to know that there’s no panic. Just Anita doing the usual; maybe Joe has been a little off-colour, but she wanted to remind me that she’s the one who takes the brunt. It was just a trip to the chemist, that’s all. I knew you’d be worried. He was running around in the background and seemed fine.’
‘She didn’t let you talk to him, then?’
The disappointment in her voice is a killer. She simply can’t understand Anita’s actions and she hates to think of the hurt it’s causing me.
‘I’ll have him on Saturday, as usual. He was fine, that’s all that matters.’
‘Yes, that’s the main thing. And you are okay?’
‘Yes, Ma. I’m doing fine and loving my work.’
I can almost see the smile on her face.
‘You’re a good son and one day you’ll find someone very special.’
If only Anita had thought I was a good husband, then life would be sweet. Instead, it’s a mess and I feel like a failure. I’ve given my parents a grandchild, but one they can only see briefly every Saturday afternoon.
***
The replacement slates for Bay Tree Cottage don’t arrive until late morning. Fortunately, it’s a dry, bright day and even the sun is putting in an appearance. I can only hope this weather continues into next week, as I can’t start work on the repointing if there’s any sign of a frost. It’s a job I’d normally look to postpone until early spring, but like Hillside View, it’s a job that has to be done sooner rather than later. One really strong gust of wind could do a lot of damage and the debris falling from a roof could potentially kill someone.
The bonus of working up here is that it’s quiet for the most part. The drone of traffic is hardly noticeable in the distance, and the odd car driving down the hill is merely a reminder of the existence of other people. It’s certainly a great place to live. It’s just a pity for Elana that the inside still needs quite a lot of work to finish it off.
As I climb down the scaffolding, more than ready to demolish my packed lunch, the postman is at the door of Hillside View and Eve looks up.
‘Luke, I have a cheque here for you. Step inside while I go and find it.’
I loiter inside the porch, making sure I don’t step off the coir matting. My boots are mostly clean, but the light-cream carpet beyond it isn’t exactly practical. I guess when you have money that’s not a major consideration.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Luke. Here you go. Please tell Matthew that we’re thrilled with the work and ask if he can confirm when exactly in January he’s able to make a start on the new conservatory.’
‘No problem, and it’s nice to get feedback. And thanks, too, for your recommendation to next door.’
‘Oh, Elana. Yes, an unfortunate expense for her, I’m afraid, but in another way she’s relieved to think it will all be fixed very soon.’
I turn to go, then hesitate.
‘Um … just so I don’t put my foot in it, or anything. Do you mind if I ask when her husband died? I heard her daughter talking about it.’
‘About sixteen months ago in a tragic accident. A tyre blowout on the motorway. It’s considerate of you to ask. So easy to assume a husband is around and she’s very fragile still, naturally.’
I nod my thanks, holding up the cheque in acknowledgement and head off to the van.
It’s a bit chilly, but with the radio playing in the background I’m happy enough sitting here eating my sandwiches and looking out over the extensive views. If only I could stop my mind wandering and wondering ‘what if’. If Anita wasn’t so bitter, if I’d realised how trapped she’d end up feeling—
A movement in front of me makes me jerk my head up and I see Elana parking her car up by the garage. As she walks down the path it would be rude not to wave. She smiles and when she draws alongside the van I wind the window down, because she appears to be slowing her pace.
‘I’m sorry to interrupt your lunch, Luke. When you’ve finished do you think you could pop in and take a look at something?’
‘Will do, Mrs James – I mean, Elana. I’ll be in shortly.’
Even when she smiles there’s that little hint of sadness in those green eyes of hers. Something that she probably isn’t even aware is there, or maybe it takes one to know one. People who have sadness in their lives often carry it inside, unseen, but the eyes are the windows of the soul. When a hurt runs deep there’s no getting away from it. I wonder if that’s what people see when they look at me – the disappointment and sense of failure I feel.
I straighten my back and stretch out my arms, my muscles beginning to ache a little from sitting in a cramped space. I can’t wait to get to the gym tonight and have a really good workout. Then it’s a takeaway pizza and a little software program to test out. One of these days, hopefully, I’ll have something to sell that will take away all of my money worries. Until