Page 12 of Take Me Home
‘Where next?’ I croaked, after an awkward moment of struggling to pull myself together. Not that Gideon seemed awkward; he merely watched with that gentle face, forehead creased in concern.
‘The chapel.’ He turned, taking the hint that we were moving on, and nodded at the tiny building up ahead, nestled between weeping willows, the river coiling behind it.
‘It’s gorgeous.’
It really was. A pretty, pale-pink brick construction, about the size of a double garage, with a white roof and a stubby, slightly crooked spire, it looked like a baby chapel, still needing to grow into itself.
‘Is it old?’
‘Built around the same time as the house, in 1920, so by rural chapel standards, it’s brand new.’
The heavy door opened with a creak and we crept inside, the dogs padding across the stone floor behind us. The gloomy day cast the five rows of pews and simple table and chair in shadow, but, despite a carved wooden picture being the only adornment, the atmosphere wasn’t dour.
‘It’s so peaceful.’ It was impossible not to speak in a hushed voice. ‘As if the simplicity stops it feeling heavy, or too sombre.’
Gideon nodded. ‘Hattie calls it her saving grace.’
‘She still uses it?’
That explained the lack of dust and the set of charcoal pencils on one windowsill.
‘It’s a great place to hide from overenthusiastic assistants.’ He gave a brief smile. ‘Or let go of a day spent immersed in other peoples’ traumas.’
‘I can imagine.’ I could have done with a saving grace once or twice.
He frowned. ‘She’s been here quite often lately. I keep suggesting she needs a holiday, but she insists there’s no place she’d rather be.’
We moved on, turning back along the river until we reached the boathouse, a quaint cottage with a small garden surrounded by a waist-high hedge.
‘This is our place,’ he said, stopping to point at a turquoise door, decorated with a tiny rowing boat. ‘That’s the front door. Please come and knock on it whenever you like.’
‘I thought you were supposed to be busy,’ I said, staring at my feet, the hedge, my dog… anything but those eyes.
‘I can be. But my mum isn’t. She had to give up driving and struggles to walk as far as the village. She knows I’m happy to take her, but she’s always felt a bit reticent with the villagers, like the Langfords’ impoverished relative, forced to accept their charity, and she can be the same with Hattie. Someone new to have a cup of tea with would be really good for her.’
‘Okay. When I have time, I’d love to visit.’
‘Really?’ He glanced at me, eyebrow raised.
‘In my line of work, I spend a lot of time with older people. Most of them sad or struggling. I’ve got quite good at helping lift their spirits a bit and enjoy hearing their stories.’
‘I’d have thought a historian spent more time researching old documents than with actual people.’
‘Well… I do a lot of that, too.’ If old documents included birth certificates, and wills, or faded love letters.
‘Why are they sad and struggling? Do you specialise in tragedies? I know Hattie’s had her ups and downs, but her story has a happy ending.’
I pretended to be distracted by Muffin, who was innocently sniffing a tree stump, feeling a rush of frustration that Hattie insisted I lied about all this.
In the end, I merely shrugged. ‘I suppose that’s just how it’s seemed lately.’
We were almost back at the kitchen garden, although here Gideon followed the wall further away from the river. We passed a scruffy tennis court then cut through a wooded area with a fire pit and various structures that Gideon informed me were the sculptures some of Hattie’s clients had created. These ranged from a miniature house made out of woven twigs to what looked to my uncultured eyes to be a lump of rocks piled in a random heap.
‘And lastly, my absolute favourite corner of Riverbend.’ He picked up his pace. ‘Again, it’s nothing compared to later in the spring, but I’ve been working on it for a few years now and have managed to make it worth a look all year round.’
We came to another high brick wall. This time the door was solid wood, painted in what I would forever think of as Riverbend blue. That was how I didn’t realise until it was too late.
‘After you.’ Gideon held the door open with one arm, bowing slightly.
