They had a leisurely breakfast of omelette made with cheese, spinach, and a few mushrooms that hadn’t gone into the beef casserole. They sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee and smiling at each other, as if they’d discovered something amazing and it was their secret – something no one else would ever know or understand.
Afterwards they took Carne for his morning walk, strolling up Weltringham Road towards the sea, arm in arm. Alison realised there was no longer any question over whether they were just friends, or even whether they were casually ‘seeing each other’. Things had moved way beyond that, and she knew Mac shared her feelings without either of them having to say a word. It was as if, she thought, it was meant to be. Like there was something inevitable about it all. She would never understand how she’d barely noticed him when they were at school together.
But then, if she had, she might never have married Drew, and she could never regret that. She would never stop loving her husband or being grateful for the years they’d spent together. She felt so fortunate that she’d been given the opportunity to share her life with not one, but two amazing, kind, gentle men. All women should be so lucky.
She thought about Jenna and wondered what her relationship with Joel was really like, and why her daughter would risk losing everything she had for the sake of a meaningless fling.
But she didn’t want to dwell on sad things or worrying things right now. It was Sunday morning, and spring was in the air, and she wanted to savour every moment of this beautiful day.
They reached the church and stopped a moment to lean on the metal gate and gaze at the sad, empty building.
‘Our Rosie was in the Brownies there,’ she told Mac. ‘For a short while anyway, until she got kicked out.’
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘She got kicked out of the Brownies? Never! No one ever gets kicked out of the Brownies!’
‘Rosie did. I’ll tell you about it one day. And I remember seeing you in your Cub’s uniform. Aw, you did look cute in your little green cap.’
He nudged her indignantly. ‘I was a very good Cub. There was certainly no question of me getting kicked out of there!’
‘I used to like going to that church,’ she admitted wistfully. ‘It wasn’t like Niall’s church in Millensea, or the one at Weltringham. They’re much bigger and grander, obviously, and far older. But there was something warm and cosy and friendly about this little place. Don’t you think?’
‘I do. Though Mum stopped going after Dad left. We never went to Sunday services after that.’
He’d never spoken about his dad to her before, and she wanted to ask him so much but didn’t want to spoil things between them. If he wanted to tell her, he would. When he was ready.
‘Did she lose her faith?’ she asked instead. ‘I don’t think my mam and dad ever had any faith, but Mam liked to hedge her bets, so we’d go to church maybe three or four times a year. She never missed the Easter and Christmas services though. Aw, it’s such a shame it had to close. Look at it now. So sad.’
‘I don’t think it was so much that she lost her faith,’ Mac said. ‘I think she was ashamed. Ashamed that Dad had left her. Us. She didn’t want to face people. That’s when she really turned to animals. She said they didn’t judge her.’
‘I don’t think anyone would have judged her,’ Alison said, shocked.
‘Maybe not.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s how it felt to her, though. The disgrace. Divorce wasn’t common in those days, and to be an abandoned wife was something shameful. She thought people would blame her. Say she’d done something wrong.’
Alison nodded. ‘I understand that.’
‘Shedidn’tdo anything wrong,’ he told her quickly. ‘It was him. He wasn’t cut out for family life.’
‘Did he—I mean, was there someone else?’
‘I don’t think so.’ He turned, checking on Carne who was busy sniffing the hedgerows, his little tail wagging furiously. ‘I only saw him once after he left. When I was at university. He came to see me. I don’t even know how he knew I was there. I never mentioned I’d seen him to Mum, and she never said anything, so…’
‘What did he want?’
‘To tell me he was sorry for abandoning me.’ Mac gave a short laugh. ‘I told him not to worry. I was perfectly happy without him.’
‘And were you?’ she asked gently.
‘Not really.’ He gave her a knowing smile. ‘Well, not when I was younger anyway. I always wondered, you know. Why? What had I done wrong? But by the time he got in touch I’d realised it wasn’t my fault, and I was way past caring. He never sent Mum anything towards my keep, you know, and when I brought that up, he said, “Well, why should I? She had way more money than I ever did.”
‘I told him I didn’t think that was the point, and that surely he’d wanted to contribute to his own child’s upbringing? And he laughed and said, “You’ve got a lot to learn, lad.” I always swore I’d never be like him, you know,’ he added. ‘I promised myself I’d be the best father in the world, and that my kids would always know how much I loved them, and that I’d always be there for them. Boy, was I ever fooling myself.’ He shook his head. ‘Come on. Carne’s getting a bit antsy now.’
She took his arm, and they continued walking. Just past the church was a five-barred gate – the entrance to a footpath that led to the fields behind the church and, beyond that, the wetlands. It was overgrown with bushes and trees, and long grass made the footpath barely visible.
Mac pulled her to a halt and nodded. ‘Look at that.’ He scooped Carne up in his arms as Alison turned to look and saw a life-size statue of a deer facing them.
‘Oh, wow,’ she breathed. ‘How have I never noticed that before? How long has it been there?’
He grinned. ‘No eye-deer.’ Then, as she nudged him, his smile turned to a frown. ‘Er, you do realise it’s not a statue, don’t you?’
