And difficult as it was, Jules went over and draped her arms around Beulah’s neck.
‘I’m sorry, Mum. I don’t always mean to be difficult.’
Beulah put both hands up to cover Jules’s.
‘I know how close you were to Dad, closer than you were to me. I was jealous of that, but when he died, all I wanted to do was to take away your pain with as much love as he would have given as well as my own. If I got that wrong, I’m sorry, too.’
And as she looked at her mother’s hands stroking her own she felt as if something had begun to shift.
The Roman villa had been a good choice. Beulah was fascinated by the mosaics and the artefacts and the fact that the Romans had come to the Isle of Wight at all.
‘What a wonderful location,’ Beulah said. ‘I suppose it meant they could travel to the mainland and to France fairly easily. They knew a thing or two, those Romans! Did you read thatthe Medusa mosaic is thought to be protective and ward off evil spirits?’
‘I did,’ Jules said as they sat in the café, each having a bowl of soup.
‘Perhaps I could make my own Medusa mosaic to take home with me,’ Beulah mused. ‘Or we could go to Lance’s pottery and make one together. Wouldn’t that be fun?’
‘Mmm,’ Jules replied, taking a very long time to chew her piece of bread.
‘I’m going to have dinner with Jo,’ Beulah said later as she drifted around the sitting room adjusting the ornaments by millimetres and occasionally stretching up on her tippy-toes to touch the beams before folding in half and placing her hands flat on the floor. ‘It will give you some space and give the spirits time to adjust. I sense that they are not entirely happy with my presence here.’
Jules looked around the room. The only unhappiness she could sense was her own.
‘You don’t have to,’ Jules said half-heartedly, but already she was starting to make herself more comfortable, tucking her feet beneath her on the sofa, moving one of the cushions to make a soft support for her head.
Beulah shot her a piercing glance.
‘I think it would be good for both of us although I don’t want you here brooding.’
‘I won’t brood.’
Beulah picked up the tissue containing the fragments of Tasha’s jug.
‘Broken things create such a well of sadness inside me,’ she said.
‘It was a present or I’d have just put it straight in the bin. I thought I’d try to mend it, but I’m not sure how.’
‘Kintsugi!’ Beulah declared, jumping up and down on the spot. ‘The Japanese say that nothing is ever completely broken, that our imperfections are part of our perfection.’
Jules stared at her mother.
‘They mend their precious things with seams of lacquer and gold.’
‘It might work, I suppose.’
‘Of course it will work, and I know who will have just the materials you need. Come along!’
She moved around the back of the sofa and whisked the cushion away from Jules’s head.
‘I’ll drop you off at The Pottery on my way to Jo’s and pick you up later.’
Jules twisted up to a kneeling position and stole the cushion back, hugging it to her.
‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea. I’ll nip into Cowes tomorrow and get what I need.’
‘I think it’s an excellent idea. Didn’t that nice man say you could drop by any time?’
‘When people say that, Mum, they don’t really mean it.’
