The clouds were gathering overhead, and the air felt heavy with the threat of an imminent thunderstorm. It had been dry for weeks, the ground hard and the grass brittle after Noah had cut it back the previous weekend. Digging a grave for Monty would be difficult, but if the rain came it would only bounce off the solid ground.
Bella dithered on the patio, wondering if she should go to the shed. Overhead, the first rumble of thunder growled ominously. There was an odd light in the sky that turned the leaves on the plum tree and the hedgerow that bordered the sides of the garden an unsettling shade of lurex green.
Although it was stiflingly warm, Bella shivered. She’d never liked thunderstorms, ever since her mother had screamed at her during a particularly vicious downpour when Bella, terrified out of her wits, had gone into her bedroom seeking a little comfort. Her mother hadn’t been best pleased to have been woken up and sent six-year-old Bella back to find reassurance under her duvet with Nelson the teddy bear and a warning not to wake her up again. She’d spent the rest of the night awake and trembling and been told off by her teacher at school the next day for falling asleep over her schoolwork.
Bracing herself, Bella walked across the patio and down the path towards the shed in the corner of the garden. As she did so, a second rumble of thunder, louder and more malevolent this time, crashed overhead, followed by a flash of lightning. Picking up her pace, she paused outside the door, wondering whether or not she should knock first. As she did so, she heard Noah’s ragged breathing from within.
Pulling open the door, her pounding heart contracted with hurt to see his hunched, shaking shoulders, both hands up to his face and his breathing in sharper relief against the battering of the rain on the felted roof of the shed. Not saying a word, she closed the shed door behind her and walked the short distance to the bench, which had served as somewhere for Jack to tend his plants and do odd repair jobs, and where Monty’s body now lay.
Bella reached out a hand and placed it on Noah’s back. He didn’t even jump but turned towards her as she wrapped her arms around him, feeling his hands sliding around her waist, clinging to her for comfort.
‘It’s all right,’ she said softly, over and over again until he stopped trembling. ‘I get it.’
Bella knew that his outpouring of grief wasn’t only about a dead cat. She got the sense that he’d been keeping his emotions in check ever since Jack had passed away, and that Monty’s death had released something he’d been holding onto for a very long time. All the conversations they’d had, the time they’d spent talking about Jack, the cottage, Monty, it had all culminated in this. The hammering of the rain, the rumbles of thunder, and the flashes of lightning overhead seemed to symbolise Noah’s grief.
Eventually, Noah’s sobs subsided. He pulled slightly back from her, obviously mortified that she’d caught him in a moment of weakness. As he did, she passed him a tissue from the back pocket of her jeans. ‘Don’t worry, it’s clean.’
Taking it, she saw the ghost of a smile flicker over his features.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’ He shook his head. ‘I thought I was over all this, but seeing Monty lying there brought it all back.’ He gave a shaky laugh. ‘Obviously I’m not.’
‘You’ve nothing to apologise for,’ Bella said gently. ‘Grief isn’t a straight path. It zigs and it zags, and one minute you’re going one way, the next you’re coming back on yourself.’
‘That sounds like it could be part of a song,’ Noah replied.
‘I’ll keep that in mind.’
The rain was beginning to ease, but Bella jumped as another clap of thunder roared overhead.
‘Not a fan of storms?’ Noah asked.
‘You could say that.’ Bella shivered. ‘Like you, I thought I’d got over it.’
Noah reached out and this time he enfolded her in his arms. He was warm and reassuring, and as Bella snuggled closer, her own nerves about the weather began to subside.
‘I thought I was meant to be comforting you,’ she said, her voice muffled against his chest.
‘Must be my turn,’ Noah replied. He was still slightly shaky, but as the rain poured down without respite, the shed was like a refuge. Bella felt as though she could stay there forever.
51
Eventually, the storm passed. Bella gently disentangled herself from Noah’s embrace. She reached out a hand to the bench where Monty lay and ran her fingertips down his back. Noah had uncovered him, and he was lying, still curled up, looking as though he was asleep. He was cold, and it gave her a jolt to know that she’d never hear his cantankerous yowl, demanding food, fuss or merely to know her whereabouts, ever again. A fresh wave of sadness washed over her, but she tried to push it away. They needed to get Monty under the plum tree while there was a break in the rain.
‘Are you ready?’ she asked Noah.
Noah nodded. He glanced towards the bench. ‘No point leaving him there.’
They headed out to the garden, and in a short time they were placing Monty in his favourite spot under the plum tree. Wrapped back in his blanket, which Bella had secured well, they covered his grave with two large round stones that Jack had purloined from a Cornish beach many years back, as a kind of marker.
‘Well, that’s that,’ Bella said. ‘Goodbye, Monty.’
Noah opened his mouth and shut it again. Bella got the sense that he was already trying to rationalise and compartmentalise his breakdown in the shed.
‘So…’ Noah said as they turned away from the plum tree. ‘What time are you at work?’
He’d already asked her that, but Bella let it slide. ‘Five o’clock.’
‘I’ll head down to the pub now, then,’ Noah replied. ‘I need to set Joel straight on a few things before he comes rampaging round here and tries to throw you out again.’
