Placing the box hurriedly down on the doorstep, he moves towards me. ‘I’msosorry, Kara. I should have realised it would upset you.Idiot.’ Quietly cursing himself, he threads an arm around my shoulders and draws me to him. ‘Okay?’ he asks softly after a second.
Nodding vigorously, I lean into him. ‘You’re not an idiot. You’re lovely,’ I muffle into his jacket, then ease away, feelinga pang of guilt when I recall how I’d reacted before, almost blaming him for Lola’s death. He’d been devastated when he realised she’d died in his arms, which wasn’t helped by my inability to accept that she’d simply slipped away. She had, of course. As Jack had tried to reassure me, her damaged heart must simply have stopped beating. She been content lying peacefully with him. And as much as I’d hated it that I’d missed her final moments, would I really have coped well if I’d noticed her breathing growing shallow? Wouldn’t I have been more likely to panic, in turn panicking her?
He smiles self-consciously. ‘I’m not sure everyone would agree with you.’
‘Then they’d be wrong,’ I assure him, wiping my face and crouching to lift the sculpture from the box. ‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmur. ‘And so thoughtful. Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’ Jack’s smile is now one of relief.
Examining the sculpture and marvelling at its perfect intricate detail, I make up my mind where it should go and head for the lounge, where I place it carefully on the hearth by the fireside. ‘Sleep safe, my little angel,’ I whisper, kissing my fingertips and pressing them to the dog’s head.
Swallowing back the fresh tears that are threatening, I stand and glance back to ask Jack’s opinion, only to realise he’s still by the front door. ‘Come through,’ I urge him.
‘Are you sure?’ He looks uncertain. ‘I don’t want to impose if you have something you need to be doing.’
‘You’re not imposing,’ I assure him. ‘I have nothing I need to do and I can’t let you go without at least offering you a coffee.’
‘In which case, I accept.’ He smiles, and I’m relieved. I don’t have many friends in the area apart from Jemma, and I feel comfortable in his company, which I think says a lot about him.
‘Thank you for bringing her home,’ I say, glancing down at the urn as he reaches me.
‘I thought you might be feeling lonely without her,’ he says, following my gaze, then glancing hesitantly back at me.
I stare at him in wonder. He obviously realised that in losing Lola, I felt I’d lost not just the most loyal, loving companion a person could have, but my emotional crutch. Lola gave me a reason to keep going in the dark early days when grief and guilt had pressed down on me like a cloying grey blanket. If not for her, I’m sure I wouldn’t have found the will to climb out of bed.
‘Sometimes we need a reason to go on, don’t we?’ he adds quietly.
I note the sad smile brushing his lips as he glances away and I realise he’s probably thinking about his own situation. ‘Shall we grab that coffee?’ I suggest, wondering how to ask him about it without seeming to be prying.
‘Great idea,’ he says, following me as I lead the way to the kitchen. ‘I really love what you’ve done with this place,’ he says behind me.
I guess that in changing the subject, he might not feel able to talk about it. ‘Thank you.’ I smile back at him. ‘We did try to keep the history of the house, while bringing it up to date, of course, putting in the new kitchen, heating and lighting. It works, I think.’
‘Absolutely,’ he agrees. ‘The high beams make it seem almost operatic, yet it’s incredibly cosy. It’s intriguing. A bit like you,’ he adds. ‘Keeping yourself hidden away here, I mean.’
That takes me aback a little. Briefly, I wonder whether he’s flirting and then dismiss it. Like me, he’s probably still so emotionally traumatised, relationships would be the last thing on his mind. He’s right, though. I’ve scarcely been out since I moved here.
‘Your property’s lovely too,’ I comment as I make the coffee. ‘It’s in a beautiful location.’ Mark and I had stayed in our caravan for a while overseeing the works here. It had been abit cramped with a young baby, but we’d managed. I’d admired Jack’s cottage often while walking Lola. Sitting on elevated ground next to a small stream, it has wonderful views over the undulating Worcestershire countryside. When I’d chatted to him once, he’d told me they’d kept the original bread oven and stove, along with many other original features. I imagine it would also make intriguing viewing.
‘It is,’ he agrees. ‘That is, it was. I, er, don’t live there any more.’
‘Oh? That’s a shame. I would have loved to see inside it.’ I place the jug back on the filter machine and turn to face him. He’s kneading his forehead, his eyes fixed on the flagstones, and my heart drops as I realise I might have touched a raw nerve.
‘I’m renting currently.’ He looks back at me. ‘A small flat adjoining a property out on the Herefordshire Road. It’s a bit of a dump, to be honest. I’ll be glad to see the back of it.’
I eye him curiously.
‘I’m selling the cottage,’ he explains. ‘It’s likely to sell more quickly if it has vacant possession. I would have stayed, but to be honest, there were too many ghosts there.’
As he glances quickly upwards, I realise that he’s working to contain his emotions and my heart turns over. ‘Your wife?’ I ask gently, sensing that he actually might want to talk but perhaps isn’t sure how to.
Jack nods tiredly. ‘She’s everywhere, you know?’
‘I do.’ I empathise. I see Mark and Kai in the street. In the park whenever I took Lola while she was still able to walk. In the shops. Their presence in the house I moved out of permeated the walls. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I ask carefully.
He hesitates, then draws in a breath. ‘We were on holiday. On a cruise ship,’ he starts falteringly. ‘I think I mentioned we were going. We’d docked in Antigua. Evie wasn’t well so we left Natalia to come back to the ship when she was ready. Heridentity bracelet tracked her coming back on board, but once we’d set sail, she was nowhere to be found. She’d disappeared into thin air. The authorities were alerted, but… It was assumed she’d either fallen overboard or, more likely, jumped.’
Jumped? Oh no.My heart bleeds for him. That must have been what he meant when he’d said they didn’t seem to think her death was an accident.
