‘Turmeric can help relieve the pain, you can buy capsules, just take one a day.’ Adira knew Edie took turmeric and swore by it.
‘Oh, thank you, dear, I’ll try it.’
‘If you don’t feel any better though, I would advise you see a doctor,’ she added, keen to stop the word getting out about her being the go-to for any illness.
Lilly sighed. ‘I know, and I will, if there’s no change. But according to Fletcher, you’re a miracle worker.’ Her eyes twinkled once more.
What an endearing old lady.
Then a thought occurred to Adira. ‘I’ve had a note from your next-door neighbour.’
‘Oh Lisa, yes, she said she’ll be seeing you too.’
‘Right…’
‘The lass wants to start a family, but apparently it’s just not happening.’
Adira blinked, still not quite believing how upfront the residents of Lilacwell were. ‘I’m not a doctor, you know…’
‘We know.’ Lilly looked earnestly at her. ‘She just wants a chat, dear.’
Adira took a deep breath. Where on earth had she tumbled upon?
Alone and needing to clear her head after Lilly’s impromptu visit, Adira decided to go for a walk, somewhere peaceful and tranquil to collect her thoughts. The most obvious place to her was the church and its grounds. Following the quaint signposts in the village led her to Saint Jude’s, a beautiful sixteenth-century stone church, complete with an impressive bell tower. She pulled on the solid wooden door, but it was bolted. So, Adira thought she’d stroll through the graveyard towards the back of the church.
To her, graveyards were a place of calm and serenity. She’d always found it therapeutic, wandering amongst the aged tombstones, each telling their own story, windows into lost lives; it fascinated her. Adira slowed down to read them, choosing to find the oldest in the graveyard. One or two dated as far back as the mid-sixteenth century; she could only just make out the names and dates. Many went back to the First World War; poor, young soldiers laid to rest in their prime. Then, a name suddenly caught her attention:
GRACE CONWAY 1891–1941
DEVOTED WIFE AND MOTHER
Grace Conway? That name resonated with her. Conway was her grandmother’s maiden name. She was sure Edie had mentioned a Grace in her family at some point.
Adira reread the gravestone. It didn’t give too much away, just her name, year of birth and death and the fact she had had a husband and child. Could there be a connection? Curiosity mounted inside her. It was such a pity the church was closed. Adira longed to look inside and talk to the priest, maybe look at the church records. Would they give any more information about Grace Conway?
Was it her imagination, or did a sense of completion sweep over her? An essence of fulfilment grew inside, as though she was meant to be here, in Lilacwell. Adira stood, rooted to the spot. She felt a calling, as though a spirit or suchlike was trying to connect with her. She shivered and rubbed away the goosebumps appearing on her arms.Don’t be silly, she told herself. She was just tired. It had been quite a day.
It was dusk as Jasper walked through the field armed with a bottle of wine. It was intended to be an olive branch. In the distance, he could see Adira, sat by a small campfire. How romantic it looked, he thought, seeing the amber flames light up her face as she sat peacefully.
She turned on hearing him approach. Was that trepidation flashing across her face? He hoped not.
‘Hi, thought you might like to share this?’ He held up the bottle – immediately realising how clumsy that sounded. Why would she want to share a bottle of wine with him? ‘Let me rephrase,’ he quickly added. ‘I’d like to apologise for being abrupt with you earlier in the pub. May I join you?’
Adira was staggered, then, after a few seconds, answered, ‘Yes, of course. I’ll get a couple of glasses.’
Hell, this was unexpected. He was looking devilishly handsome in a white, open-necked shirt exposing a hint of dark chest. Adira caught his faint aroma of lime and bergamot. Willing herself to stay composed, she quickly checked her reflection in the window, wishing she’d washed her hair. Never mind, she’d have to do. Then inwardly chided herself for caring.
She passed him the glasses and brought out another deckchair. He appeared relaxed pouring the wine.
‘Cheers.’ He handed her a glass.
‘Cheers.’
There was a short silence. Adira waited for him to speak first, after all he’d come to her.
‘You’ve probably figured that Fletcher means the world to me.’
Adira was touched by the announcement, and if being honest, quite surprised at the warmth of it.
