‘He named his brother as executor.’ Rita smiled weakly.
With a slow shake of her head, Hilda plonked herself down on the window seat.
‘And there was a provision for one Mateo Serrano, but that’s OK. I get it. It’s a token amount but will make a difference to him. An amount to show that Teo was loved by him, despite all, I guess.’
Hilda sighed. ‘Finding Carmen and bringing her here, I thought it may help you move on, you know. My Archie was a good boy and we mothers protect, don’t we? Do what we think is best for our kids. He didn’t cheat on you, Rita. He was doing what Archie did best, trying to keep everyone happy.’
‘I realise that now.’ Rita swallowed hard, the back of her throat tight. ‘It just feels so final now. Like he’s… properly gone. And there will always be a space that won’t ever be filled and what do you do with that?’
Hilda didn’t speak for a moment. Then she covered Rita’s hand with her own.
‘You live in it. You plant something in it. You scream into it if you need to. And it’s OK to fill it. And bit by bit the space gets less, but that doesn’t mean the memory has to.’
Rita blinked rapidly, tears threatening. ‘I hate that you always say the right thing.’
Hilda gave her hand a squeeze and stood. ‘Now. Come on. Enough wallowing. Rumour has it you are having a little birthday-come-thank-your-team get-together and I’m sure it’s not organising itself.’
‘Yes, I’d better get in the Snack Shack and give Zenya a hand.’
‘Have you spoken to Thomas?’ Hilda added gently.
Rita’s voice wobbled. ‘I’ve left him a couple of messages, but I can’t get hold of him.’ With a sigh, Rita stood, folding the will and tucking it between the pages of her now dog-eared copy ofWild, the book that had nudged her toward starting the retreat.
‘Thank you, Hilda. And I mean that truly. I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve been through yourself.’ Rita paused, her voice barely steady. ‘With everything.’
Hilda gave the smallest nod, her eyes shining. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She knew Rita knew and that was enough. The old woman then uncharacteristically looped her arm through Rita’s. ‘But before we head outside, there’s somewhere else I think we both need to go.’
Rita looked up, instantly wary. ‘Hilda?’
‘Just keep walking.’
They crossed the hallway slowly, side by side, their footsteps soft on the wooden boards. The big lounge door was ajar, light spilling out in ribbons of warmth and colour from its huge bay window with the view of the sea.
Rita paused in the doorway. Her breath caught. The room was just as it had been. The sofa, the chairs, the photos, the piano. Nothing had changed and yet everything had. This was the room where Archie used to sit in the mornings, reading the paper aloud like it was a radio broadcast. This was the room where they danced, badly, after too much wine. The room that had held him, and her, and all the ordinary days that had quietly meant everything. Now dusty and a bit musty, but still her favourite room in the house.
Her throat tightened. ‘I haven’t been in here since he died,’ Rita whispered.
‘Love doesn’t live in the dust, Rita. It’s in the people who stay, and the life you keep choosing.’
Rita’s tears welled, unbidden. ‘As mothers-in-law go, I’m not sure what I did to deserve you.’
Hilda smirked. ‘Oh, probably something terrible in a past life.’
Hilda walked over to the bay window, took a moment to drink in the wide coastal view, then turned to face her son’s wife. ‘And for the record, I’m OK with whomever you choose to share your heart with in this one.’
Rita’s lip wobbled. Hilda sniffed loudly, then shook herself.
‘Now stop all this maudlin nonsense. I need a cigarette.’
FORTY-NINE
Rita had thought of nothing else but Jago since the night she’d run out on him. Not properly. Not clearly. But like a song stuck in the background of her thoughts, looping and unresolved. She didn’t know what to do, not yet. She was waiting. Waiting for the moment to feel right, for her heart to stop racing every time his name entered her mind. To be a grown-up and work out exactly the best way to deal with a situation that was so huge, so scary, and so out of control.
If you don’t know what to do, do nothing. Let the answer come to you.
So, she had done nothing, except check her phone more times than she could admit, hoping he might come to her first. Hoping he’d open the conversation, close the distance, make it easy. But he hadn’t. And now the silence between them felt heavy. Awkward. Like a thread they’d both let go of at the same time.
She felt awkward, too. Off-balance. Because if she did open herself to him, really open herself, what would that mean? Was it too soon? Would it be disrespecting Archie? What would the twins think? And were her feelings duping her, was Jago truly who she wanted, or was he just a shelter in the storm of her grief?
