‘Don’t go on my account.’ Something in his eyes makes me want to stay. ‘I think she’d like to know you’re here.’
I sit back down again, and for the rest of the day, I stay with them. ‘I was in the garden when it happened,’ I tell him. ‘She was with Lucy. She brought out some cake for us.’
‘Thank goodness Lucy was there,’ he says. ‘It’s been my biggest fear that something would happen when she was alone.’
Since discovering she has a heart problem, it’s been mine, too. ‘How long can you stay?’ I ask.
‘As long as I need to,’ he says. His eyes meet mine. ‘Thank you. For being here. For staying with her.’
I’m silent for a moment. ‘Did she talk to you about how she felt? If she became ill?’ In a way, it isn’t my place to tell Joe, but if he doesn’t know, he should.
‘I think I can guess what you’re going to say.’ His eyes rest on Mary. ‘If her quality of life is jeopardised, she doesn’t want to be kept going, does she?’
‘That’s kind of what she said,’ I say gently. ‘And I understand. Don’t you?’
As Joe rests his head in his hands, I place a hand on his arm. I know how he feels; none of us were expecting this.
Later that evening, I leave Joe alone with Mary – reluctantly, but if Mary’s last hours are playing out, I’m guessing he may well want this time alone with the woman who raised him.
By the time I go to bed, there’s still no sign of Joe. I sleep fitfully, waking early to hear a car pull up on the drive. Getting up, I go to the window just as Joe gets out.
A hollow feeling takes me over. Pulling a sweater over my pyjamas, I go downstairs. By the time I reach the kitchen, he’s standing at the window, gazing across the garden.
Hearing me come in, he turns. He looks exhausted, his eyes red from crying. ‘She had another heart attack,’ he says quietly. ‘There wasn’t anything they could do.’
Going over to him, I hug him. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I loved her.’
‘Me too.’ His arms go around me.
We stand there in Mary’s kitchen, holding each other, the most basic kind of human comfort, until suddenly awkward, I let go. ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ I say quietly.
He looks devastated. ‘I know she was old. But she’s been doing so well since you moved in. I didn’t expect this to happen – at least, not so soon.’
‘How old was she?’ I’ve never actually known.
‘She was ninety-one.’ Joe shakes his head. ‘She was the one person who’s been here – my whole life.’
Since meeting Joe, I’ve always known how important Mary was to him. Losing her was never going to be easy. ‘She loved you so much,’ I say gently. ‘You were lucky.’
Joe stays around for the next few days. There are formal matters to see to, Mary’s death to register. But far sooner than I’d anticipated, I’m faced with thinking about where I’m going to live next. Not that there is any rush.
‘It’s going to take a while to sort her affairs out,’ Joe tells me. Then he looks at me, hesitantly. ‘Did she mention anything about the stable to you?’
‘Yes.’ I pause. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. It’s so generous – it feels too much.’
‘It’s what she wanted,’ he says quietly. ‘You made such a difference to her – even before you moved in here. When you took on the walled garden, she told me she loved your kids coming over and bringing life to the place. I used to feel guilty – Tara and I were living miles away and because of my work, I didn’t get here that often. She would have loved to see more of Isla, too.’ He shakes his head. ‘I have so many regrets.’
‘I know how that feels,’ I say quietly. ‘But Mary knew about your work. She was proud of you.’ I pause. ‘Have you thought yet what you’ll do with the house?’
‘I’ll have to sell it.’ He sighs. ‘I feel terrible. It’s become your home, too – and I know how much you’ve put into the garden.’
‘You’ve no reason to feel bad,’ I say. ‘I’ve been lucky to be here. I always knew it would come to an end one day.’ It’s what I feel – even though I’ve come to love it here.
‘It’s some consolation to know you’ll have the stable,’ he says. ‘But as for the rest of it, it’s a huge place – and I don’t really see myself living here.’ He adds more quietly, ‘Not yet, at least.’
I take that to mean that things are no better with his wife. ‘You don’t have to make any decisions straight away. Sometimes, it helps to let the dust settle.’
‘Maybe.’ His eyes meet mine. ‘I’ll always be grateful that you were here, Edie. She didn’t want to leave, and thanks to you, she didn’t have to.’
