And then they were gone. And Morgan was alone again. When her phone buzzed with a text from Ronan, she sat down on the front step to read it, letting the colour of the forget-me-nots, the sounds of kids playing on the village green, the ambience of the entire village seep in.
When she replied to his text, she told him they’d made good progress today and yesterday, the market stall was lined up for her ready to get rid of stock. And she hoped that would buy her some time. She needed him to be patient for a while longer. Long enough to decide what she really wanted.
Could she really say goodbye to all of this? Was it really that simple?
6
As far as places to live went, Llandudno in North Wales had a lot to offer. It was coastal, there were some great walks and fantastic scenery and Nate had a reasonable social life on top of his growing business. But it couldn’t hide the fact it was a decent drive away from Little Woodville in the Cotswolds. And every time he came back from seeing his dad, he liked the distance less and less.
‘There you go, Mrs Featherton.’ Nate came down the stairs in the woman’s chalet bungalow. It was his second call here in as many weeks. Last time it had been a basic change to the washer on the tap. Today, it was a leaky seal around the bathtub. And he was starting to wonder whether she simply wanted to see and talk to someone because neither had been an emergency and they’d happened in quick succession. Perhaps she’d held back on mentioning the seal so it would mean a second visit.
The fact that she’d cut two whopping great slices of fruitcake – for him! – and was pouring tea for the both of them backed up his assumption. ‘You shouldn’t have.’ But he set his toolbox down inside the doorway where neither of them would trip over it.
‘I made it fresh before you arrived. I don’t have anyone else to feed and I don’t think I should be eating it all myself.’ Her white hair was carelessly pinned back with a few grips, more to keep wisps away from her face than to hold it in a style.
Nate discreetly checked his watch. Bud would be here in five minutes. He’d already sent a blanket email out to all of his clients giving them the dates he’d be away for, and with him about to be gone for a month, he wouldn’t have felt right to not recommend someone in his absence. That was where Bud came in. When Bud had had six weeks travelling around Asia eighteen months ago, he’d done the same and recommended Nate and now it was payback time. Your fear was always that the clients would prefer the new person to you and never come back, but it worked both ways so pretty much evened out.
When the doorbell went, Nate got up before Mrs Featherton could. ‘That’ll be Bud, plumber friend of mine.’ He didn’t wait for her to ask why.
With Bud in the kitchen, a slight chap but with muscles that showed he was perfectly capable of dealing with the physical aspects of the job, Nate talked him up, embarrassing him by listing his credentials, his experience. ‘He’ll give you his card,’ Nate told Mrs Featherton and when Bud obliged, added, ‘Call him when I’m away.’ And with a wink, he said, ‘He knows how important you are to me.’
Mrs Featherton put Bud’s business card beneath a crab magnet on her fridge door and, without asking, pulled out another plate, cut a big wedge of cake and set it in front of Bud. Bud merely shrugged, picked it up and tucked in.
When Mrs Featherton went to pick up the post as she heard the letterbox go, Bud said, ‘I think I’m going to like coming here. You get this treatment every time?’
‘I think she’s lonely.’ And by the way she was keeping the postman talking at the door, he knew he was right. He’d also known that Bud would understand. He went to visit his mother every day between jobs or after he was finished as she lived nearby.
‘I’ll be sure to keep in touch with her, don’t worry.’
‘You’re a good bloke.’ Nate shared his suspicion that Mrs Featherton might well come up with another non-emergency and call him out again soon.
‘That’s sad, that,’ Bud concluded. ‘Being so lonely you have to call a plumber. Lucky for her, we’re all right. A lot of guys would try to rip her off.’
The last thing Nate wanted was for her to call out a plumber who fleeced her and either didn’t do a proper job or took her for a ride by charging the earth. ‘They might but did you see the size of that cake knife? I reckon she could hold her own and she’d soon pick up on it if you weren’t playing by her rules.’
‘You know what, I might walk past with Mum during the week – she likes to take a walk by the sea but won’t go alone – maybe we can pop in here.’
Nate patted Bud’s shoulder. ‘That’s going above and beyond. Thank you.’ He liked to think that was what anyone would do but sometimes people didn’t realise how much a person living on their own needed basic contact. It didn’t take much other than a little effort to make someone’s day.
Nate headed back to his bungalow, only a street away from the sea. He’d miss the sound of the waves while he was away in the Cotswolds, but all that English beauty was beginning to grow on him again. He’d run away from it all after his mum died; here had been a refreshing change to everything, but he could feel himself being pulled back. For four weeks, anyway. Starting tomorrow.
* * *
Nate was on the road with Branston nice and early the next morning. He’d emailed Jasper, the manager of the Snowdrop Lane markets in Little Woodville, when he was still at his dad’s so he didn’t chicken out. Jasper had written straight back to him and confirmed a stall for this Saturday and with any luck, it wouldn’t take more than a few market sessions to get rid of everything he’d made once and for all.
As Nate pulled into the driveway at his dad’s, he glanced across at the workshop that had once been the garage that sat separate to the house. He’d have to get in there soon enough and sort through what he was going to take to sell tomorrow. And the thought of the emotions it was going to dredge up filled him with unease.
He didn’t sit there looking for long because Branston had already sat up, ears alert, knowing they’d arrived. And here was his dad coming out to greet them.
Nate got out of the pick-up and hugged his dad. ‘Good to be here again.’ And even better to know he was staying for longer this time.
They went inside and as Trevor put the kettle on, Nate took Branston out into the garden. He threw a stick for him a few times so he could run off some energy. It gave Nate a chance to stretch his legs too.
After a cup of tea each, talk of the drive and the traffic and the warmth of the first days of summer that had seen Nate take the journey with his windows down, Trevor went over to the wall beside the back door to the kitchen. He unhooked a key from the wooden plaque Nate had made his parents especially for the purpose.
And there was no doubt what this meant. It was time.
Nate opened his palm and his dad placed the key to the workshop onto it.
