‘I kept all of yourThomas the Tank Enginetrack and engines.’
‘In case I wanted to play with them again?’
‘No. Course not.’
No, he meant that grandchildren might have played with them, but Nate hadn’t even managed a relationship, let alone anything else. He wouldn’t mind settling down one day and having a family, but so far, it felt out of his grasp.
‘You could sell the track and trains on eBay, Dad. Make a bit of money. People go crazy for that stuff.’
‘I don’t need the money; I’d rather keep my memories. And really, there’s no rush. I’m still here, so is the loft; it can wait. I’m more interested in what you’re going to do about the market stall.’ He got no response from Nate. ‘You’re wasting that licence. It must be still valid at least for a while longer. Do you remember when you received it?’ When Nate shrugged, he persisted. ‘Roughly?’
‘It’s still valid, Dad.’
‘Then give Jasper a call, he’ll get you in; there are plenty of traders who come and go.’
Nate supposed the workshop wasn’t going to magically sort itself out. He’d have to do it eventually.
‘You have a real talent,’ Trevor went on. ‘Show it off, make some money, let everyone else see what you can do. Jasper will have something available, I’m sure of it. And I’d be proud to see you at the Snowdrop Lane markets.’
Nowadays, he did his best not to think about what lurked behind the closed doors of his workshop: the scent of the wood shavings, the smell of varnish, the feel of the grain of wood beneath his fingers on whatever species he chose to work with. His mum was a big part of his associated memories too – converting it in the first place, showing her the pieces as he worked on them and as they became what he intended.
Without her, the workshop felt like a painful reminder of the fact that she’d gone and that he hadn’t been there when she needed him the most. And so, ever since she died, he’d turned his back on it.
And no matter his dad’s eagerness, would Nate actually be able to go through with it – not just having a market stall but even going into the workshop again – after such a long time?
5
‘There’s so much stuff in the house,’ Tegan said, not for the first time since she’d arrived. They’d had lunch yesterday, played with the kids and taken them out for a long walk in the afternoon and visited the cemetery to put flowers on their mother’s grave. This morning, both Tegan and Morgan had got up when Jaimie and Lily woke, which was early. So they were already stuck into the clearing out, with Lily down for a late morning nap and Jaimie back to his mat and all the cars which seemed to have made their way to most rooms in the house. Still, at least he wasn’t chasing Marley any more, and so the cat could sit contentedly on the arm of the chair when he was brave enough.
‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?’ Morgan agreed. It wouldn’t have escaped anyone’s notice at the wake that the cottage was bursting at the seams and in danger of being featured on a documentary about people who hoarded things.
‘Well, I think we’ve made a good dent in it.’ Tegan looked around at the collection of boxes for a charity shop, another two bin liners of what they could get rid of.
‘You’ve got a long drive ahead of you this afternoon.’ Morgan looked at her sister, who still hadn’t told her what was on her mind. But there was something, she could tell. And it was hard to probe when they were interrupted every five minutes by a hungry four-year-old or the usual demands of his younger sibling.
‘I wish I could stay a bit longer.’ When Jaimie’s car noises got louder, Tegan frowned. ‘I’d better check on him. Excuse me.’
Morgan pulled out another bag from under the spare bed, this one full of scraps of material. Maybe she’d go into the charity shop and ask them if they could think of a good use for them. You never knew, perhaps the church or the school would want the pieces for a craft group or something.
When Tegan joined her again after checking up on Jaimie as well as looking in on her daughter, who was asleep in the travel cot in Elaina’s room, Morgan asked whether she was all right.
‘It’s an emotional time,’ Tegan said without meeting her eye.
‘I know that, but there’s something else. Something you’re not saying. I know you too well.’
She opened her mouth, presumably to deny it, but let out a sigh instead. ‘You know I appreciate you coming back here to Little Woodville to be with Mum, don’t you?’
‘You’ve said so enough times, Tegan. And I know that it was easier for me to do it than you.’
‘I thought you might resent me because you and Ronan haven’t been able to go ahead with your own plans.’
‘Did I ever say that?’
‘Well, no.’
‘I don’t resent you at all.’ Actually, Morgan had felt glad of the space, the time to think about what she really wanted. ‘But right now, I know there’s more for you to say; there’s something you want to tell me, ask me?’
Tegan bit down on her lip. Then she looked upwards to the ceiling, either trying to stem tears threatening to flow or in search of what to say. ‘Why don’t we go get some more of that cheesecake?’ she suggested with a tender smile.
