Page 117 of The Little Flower Shop By the Sea
‘My phone was on silent,’ I tell her weakly. I’d switched it off while I was in Caroline’s garden.
‘So when we couldn’t get hold of you, Woody went out to look for you, didn’t you?’ Amber turns to Woody, and he puts his arm gently around her shoulders.
‘We think he must have passed away in his sleep,’ Woody says, visibly upset.
‘He looks very peaceful,’ Jake says, passing Miley to Amber. He kneels down next to me, and pats Basil on his side. ‘The old fella had a good life. And a happy one too.’ He puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘We’ll need to call the vet, Poppy. It’s too late for them to do anything, but they need to know.’
‘No!’ I cry, flipping his hand away. ‘No, he can’t be dead, he’s Basil, he’s always with me. He’s my friend.’
I try again to wake him, but his eyes remain closed, his expression peaceful, like he’s having one of his long naps after he’s had his dinner.
‘Oh, Basil,’ I sob, cuddling one last time into his fur. ‘You were the only one that really understood. The only one that I could telleverythingto. What will I do without you?’
My tears fall on to Basil’s body, and are immediately absorbed into his brown and white fur.
Jake stands up and fetches a blanket from the chair.
‘He’s at peace now, Poppy,’ he says gently.
‘Yes,’ Amber says, crouching down next to me with Miley. ‘He’s gone to be with your grandmother. He’ll be happy again. You know how much he missed her.’
‘I know he did,’ I sob. ‘But I’ll miss him too, he was my best friend.’
Little Miley wriggles out of Amber’s arms, and stands in front of Basil.
We all watch her, wondering what she’s going to do. But she reaches out her paws and wraps her arms as far around Basil’s neck as she can, to give her hero one last hug. Then she climbs back into Amber’s arms, and buries her face into Amber’s chest like she’s sobbing.
Moved by Miley’s emotional reaction, I reach out and stroke one of Basil’s long soft ears for the last time. Then I look up at Jake and nod.
Jake gently lays the crochet blanket over Basil’s body, covering his head last.
‘Goodbye, my wonderful, grumpy friend.’ I smile as tears stream down my face so hard I can barely see any more. ‘I hope they have lots of cheese up there. Then I know you’ll be happy.’
I take one last look at the blanket, then I stand up and turn to Jake. He wraps his arms tightly around me, while I bury my face into his chest like Miley had done to Amber, and then I sob long and hard into his warm checked shirt.
For the rest of the evening, Jake and I cuddle together with Miley on the sofa, not too far away from Basil.
All four of us had tried to drink the customary healing cup of tea together, then Amber had made us all some food, which none of us had wanted, before Woody had returned home and Amber headed off to bed to get some sleep, after Jake had assured her he’d look after me.
Jake and I then dozed together on and off through the rest of the night – me, dreaming horrible nightmares about Basil being arrested and banged up in jail for being drunk and disorderly, then me returning to the cottage to find Caroline curled up in Basil’s basket with a glass of red wine by her side.
I awake with a start after that particular dream, and hope for one moment that ithasall been a dream, and Basil will be sitting at my feet demanding a walk or his breakfast.
But no, as I see the basket with the blanket covering it, the same feeling of emptiness and sorrow engulfs me once more.
I gently wriggle away from Jake’s embrace, and leave him sleeping soundly on the sofa, with Miley not too far away covered with a blanket on the rocking chair, and walk over to the French windows, opening them as gently as I can, before stepping out on to the balcony.
It’s daylight already, and last night’s sunset seems to have been correct in predicting a beautiful morning in St Felix. I stand very still watching the sun’s rays dancing off the top of the waves as they race along into the harbour, eventually becoming hypnotised by a never-ending stream of rhythmical sounds and rolling movement. Over and over the waves keep coming, until, with no one to tell them how or when, they simply turn and work in reverse, pulling the sea and all its inhabitants back out towards the horizon.
After I’ve stood on the balcony for a few minutes, I hear a voice.
‘Are you OK?’ Jake asks from the doorway. I turn to see him looking dishevelled and bleary-eyed, he can’t have had much more sleep than me, and the stubble that had just begun to show on his face last night is even more apparent. ‘You’ve been standing there ages, looking at the sea.’
‘You’ve been watching me?’
‘You looked so peaceful. I didn’t want to disturb you.’ Jake, still wearing his clothes from last night – a pair of blue jeans and a crumpled checked shirt with the odd mascara stain on it – steps out on to the balcony with me.
‘The sea is an amazing thing,’ I say, turning back to watch. ‘It’s a never-ending circle. No one is its master, it does its own thing.’
