Not since Dad passed away has anyone comforted me like this. He made it so easy to just sit on the edge of his tidy bed as itall comes spilling out. For an hour, we sit together and talk about Raff, about the unfairness of the world, and about Christmas.
At the end he says, “you go home now and make sure you take it easy for the rest of today. I’ll tell the others.”
It’s such a relief because I don’t think I could have made myself deliver the news again, watch everyone’s surprise and disappointment.
He kisses me on the forehead and waves me goodbye. On my way to the main doors, I catch a glimpse of Jack in a wheelchair being pushed by a nurse. He’s still in his pyjamas, a thick blanket covers him. It feels wrong for me to see him like this when he’s not dressed up. Fortunately, I’m almost at the front door and slip out before he can notice me.
The minibus Raff used to drive is parked outside. Empty and cold. More than anything, it proves he’s gone. Before I start crying again, I hurry into my car and drive home.
Kendric House is too empty. There might be twenty people running back and forth, builders and helpers. Shouting, calling instructions, carrying dusty things out, but still the house feels silent without Raff. I catch my eyes searching for him.
So, I go to the one place where I might find comfort. The one thing that will take my mind away. Baking.
Haneen is in the kitchen setting Henrietta a colouring book to keep her busy. She watches me mix flour, sugar and butter to make enough shortbread to feed the nation.
A little later she says, “I didn’t know you’re supposed to add lemon zest.”
“You’re not. I’m just experimenting.” I am also trying. With all my strength trying not to think that Raff won’t get to tastethese. It’s one o’clock. He’ll be boarding the flight now. Buckling his seat belt. They’ll have messengered him the screenplay. He’ll leaf through it to take his mind of the people he left behind.
Deep, slow breath. Slow, long exhale. Release the memory. Don’t cry.
An instant later I feel Haneen at my back, soft arms around my waist and her head resting on my shoulder. “Goodbyes are hard. I know.”
Wiping the back of my hand over my eyes. “Sorry, it’s pathetic. I’ve always been a crier.”
“It’s not pathetic at all.”
“How did I fall so hard? It was always on the cards that we’d go our separate ways. It was never supposed to get serious. We were together less than four weeks, for God’s sake. It takes more than four weeks to fall for someone.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Haneen comes round to stand beside me and takes half of the mixture to help me roll it out. “Last year, I fell in Love with Evan much faster than that. I convinced myself it was a one-week fling. I even called it a Christmas bubble. And when the week was over I broke up with him and in the process broke both of our hearts.”
In spite of myself, the story captures my curiosity. “When I look at the two of you. It’s as if you’ve been together for years. You seem so…so…like a real couple. Like a family.”
She smiles, looking down at the pastry, her entire face glows with happiness. “Actually, tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of the first time we met.” She sets the rolling pin aside. “How do you want these cut? Squares or fingers?”
“Anything.” I’m using a cup to cut discs then decorate the edges with a fork.
She cuts the shortbread into triangles. “What I’m trying to say is that there are no rules about how fast you fall in love. You can tell yourself it’s only temporary but your heart doesn’t always listen.”
No, it doesn’t. “What happened after you broke up?” I ask to move the subject away from me and Raff.
“He was furious with me and didn’t even want to stay friends but…” She pauses, and not only because she needs to focus on cutting pastry. A memory seems to pray on her mind because her smile fades.
She lines the baking trays with parchment paper and helps me transfer the shortbreads to the tray. When both are in the oven, I rest my bum against the butcher block, sip my tea, and wait for her to continue the story.
She hesitates, then speaks quickly and matter of fact. “I was preparing to move into the village. It would have been the end of our story.” She too pours herself a cup of yea from the pot I made earlier. “But you see, because he was here. I mean we were both in Kendric Park, he happened to be nearby when I got in trouble. He found me and helped…it just brought us back together.”
There’s clearly a lot more story which she isn’t telling me. With a big breath and a new smile she concludes. “So, you see? Even when you think it’s over, circumstances can bring you back together.”
If this story was supposed to distract me from my situation with Raff, well, it’s failed very badly.
She catches my expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Circumstances brought you back together because you were both here in Kendrick Park. But that’s not us. He’s in the African Sahara, filming. I would have to be in a hell of a lot of trouble for him to hear about it all the way there.”
“Your paths can still cross. You’re both actors.”
I am saved from answering when little Henrietta arrives with her colouring book and Haneen is distracted helping her sit at a table and start on a picture of reindeer flying through the snowy sky.
