Once I had explained, she folded her hands and looked at me seriously.
‘I’m so glad you have clarity,’ she said. ‘I know I’ve said it before, but Nikolai is a good boy, he means only well. He spends too much time with that dog, but hey…’ She gave an exaggerated shrug. ‘Nobody’s perfect.’
‘Doesn’t it make you sad?’ I asked. ‘The fact that Lyonscroft might be sold?’
‘After I die? Not at all. I do love it, but moving on isgood. I hope he sells, or does something else with it, makes it into a hotel or something. It’s a beautiful house, but it needs new life running through its veins, and it’s too big for most families these days.’
‘Moving on is good,’ I repeated. ‘I think I’m finally coming to understand that.’
‘Good,’ said Marilise, pushing herself down to lying and putting her phone on the bedside table, then reaching for thelight switch. ‘But you and Nick would be fools not to move on together.’
TWENTY-FOUR
I woke early the next morning and, despite the alcohol and late night, felt distinctly chipper. As I showered and dressed, the previous night scrolled through my head: the hen party, kind Christal, Marilise. I had turned a corner. I still loved Paulo and I always would, but I understood now that cringing away from life, from love, couldn’t bring him back, and that living my life as some sort of tribute to his memory wasn’t noble and didn’t prove anything. It stopped me being a whole person and worried those around me. And besides, I thought, as I turned the water off and wrapped myself in a towel, Paulo would be furious if he could see what I had done. This made me smile and, with that smile, an image of my beloved husband came to me: not an image of him ill in bed, which was what I often saw, but an image of him laughing and carefree, the way I had always wanted to remember him. It felt like a blessing and, when I went downstairs to the kitchen to start preparing mine and Marilise’s breakfast and switched on the radio, the song playing was ‘Sleigh Ride’, which brought back that happy night with Nick. When Angela came in, I was dancing around, singing along.
‘Morning!’ she said, her face amused. ‘Enjoy yourself last night?’
‘Not entirely,’ I replied. ‘But things are looking up. In fact, I was wondering if it would be at all possible for me to take a little time off after Marilise’s swim today. There’s something I need to do.’
Angela agreed and I took breakfast upstairs with a light heart. The morning passed quickly and, after our swim, I made a quick lunch, then set out in the car to drive the forty minutes to the cosy family house where Paulo had grown up from the age of five, when they moved to England from Portugal, and his parents still lived. I had rung them that morning to check that they were free, so when I pulled up outside, they were expecting me and greeted me with the warmth and love they had shown me from the first moment we had met.
‘I love your decorations,’ I said, as I followed them through the small hallway and into the sitting room. They had a real Christmas tree, scenting the whole room and decorated with a riot of different baubles as well as tinsel and lights, but the focus of the room was the Presépio, or nativity scene, with a crib waiting for the baby Jesus, who would be placed there when they returned from Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. I crouched down in front of it and let the memories and emotions emerge from my heart, so much more gently now than I had been used to. After a few moments, I cleared my throat, stood up and smiled. Paulo’s mother, Azula, stepped towards me and gathered me into a hug.
‘We miss him, too,’ she said. ‘But the memories are happy. Now come, sit down. Bernardo will bring the coffee.’
I sank into a comfortable chair and waited while the coffee was poured and the pastries offered around. I never could resist them, particularly themassa de filhós, a sort of flat doughnut eaten at Christmas in Portugal, and beyond delicious. I hadn’t had one since the year before Paulo’s illness, and the sweet, rich flavour sent my senses reeling.
‘I’ve never tried to make these,’ I said. ‘But I think it’s time I learnt, if you would teach me?’
I knew that each family has its own particular way of making themassa, and it was traditional to be shown, rather than follow written instructions.
‘Claro,’ said Azula.Of course.‘You know that you will always be my daughter. Now, tell me, what brings you here to see us?’
I breathed in slowly before speaking.
‘I wanted to tell you that I think’ – I thought of Christal and her urge to be certain – ‘that Ihavemet someone, a man.’
I had been unsure of how they would take this news, but the last thing I had expected was the joyful smile that spread across both of their kind faces. Putting down their cups and plates, they came over and hugged and kissed me, exclaiming in delight.
‘We’re so happy for you,’ said Bernardo, wiping away a tear as he sat down again. ‘Muito feliz.’
‘It is true,’ said Azula. ‘We have worried for you these past few years, you seemed stuck. We know how you loved Paulo, how much you grieve him, but we also longed for you to move forward. Tell us about this man.’
So, I told them about Nick, about how kind he was, how he wanted to help his family and make them happy but that he had been so cruelly treated by his father that he struggled to make connections – until now. I told them about Steve, which made them laugh, and about how things had gone wrong between Nick and me. I explained that everything was much clearer now and that the guilt and worry had fallen from my shoulders so that I no longer had the need to atone for the past but was ready to move forward.
‘But you say that Nick has gone?’ asked Azula, offering me the plate ofmassa de filhósagain. I took one.
‘Yes,’ I replied. ‘But I truly believe that we can work things out. And if we can’t…’ My heart dropped a little at this thought,but I continued. ‘If we can’t, then he will always be incredibly special to me, because he was the one who showed me how to love again. Even if I can’t be with Nick, I will keep moving and be excited at what lies ahead.’
Bernardo nodded.
‘You always had a wise head on those young shoulders,’ he said. ‘Nick would be foolish not to take the opportunity to be with you.’
‘You sound like Marilise,’ I said, laughing. ‘You should come over one day and meet her – she’s wonderful.’
We chatted for a little longer before I left to drive back to Lyonscroft, with a large box of the Christmas doughnuts to share with the Princes. I felt a tremendous sense of peace, only slightly ragged at the edges with the thought:what if Nick has gone for good?For despite my brave assertions to the contrary, I knew that I would be devastated.
That evening was one of the cosiest I had spent at Lyonscroft. After supper, Marilise suggested that we all go into the sitting room with more of the Linzer cookies that India and Sofia had made, and some mulled wine, or mulled apple juice.
