Page 109 of Beyond Her Manner
“Could I suggest a suitable place?” Gillian offered. “I’ve been doing a bit of rearranging outside.”
“Of course.” Viola followed Gillian outside and along the path to Hen’s bench. She noticed the shape was different; in fact, it was an entirely different one and made of metal.
“I commissioned Arte to create this for your birthday. I remember you mentioning how much your mother loved the South Downs and the skylarks.”
The new bench featured a backrest with two skylarks in flight, their wings gracefully arched as if captured mid-dance, set against the rolling hills of the South Downs.
“It’s beautiful, thank you. Mum would love that Arte made this for her.”
“She left a space for you to add a plaque or an engraving if you prefer.”
Viola wiped away a tear, her mind already turning over the words she might choose to honour her mother.
“How about spreading her ashes here?” Gillian asked softly. She gestured towards the parkland before them, where the manicured lawn gave way to the sprawling wild meadow blanketing the hill down to the stream.
“It’s perfect,” Viola whispered in reply.
With a nod of encouragement from Gillian, Viola stepped off the path onto the soft lawn and walked a short way down the slope. The meadow was alive with spring blooms; their vibrant colours popped amongst the long, green grass as it swayed and rustled softly in the wind.
She lifted the lid of the box, her fingers trembling as she opened the bag inside. With her arms stretched out, she tilted it, letting the ashes fall. The wind caught them at once, carrying them out over the meadow and weaving them through the grasses and flowers. Some fell onto the lawn; others flew high into the sky until nothing was left.
Viola sniffed back her tears, her heart aching as she murmured, “Goodbye, Mum.” The words dissolved into the wind, carried away to join the ashes.
Her thoughts drifted back to the day she first collected the ashes. She couldn’t imagine then a time when she’d willingly let go of this tangible connection to her mum. Clinging to the last remnants of her had been the only way she believed she could still feel her presence. Closing the lid on the empty box, she paused, uncertainty washing over her at the unexpected sense of peace she now felt.
She made her way back up to the bench where Gillian waited, arms open. Viola stepped into the embrace, and her trembling body relaxed as tears streaked her face.
“Are you okay?” Gillian asked, holding her tight.
Viola pulled back to meet her gaze, nodding as she wiped her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Yes,” she answered softly.
Gillian reached into her pocket and handed her a handkerchief.
Viola took it with a grateful smile, dabbing at her tear-streaked cheeks. “I’ll miss her every day,” she admitted, her voice thick with emotion, “but I have you, and I want to focus on what I have, not what I don’t — as much as I can.”
“You do have me,” Gillian reassured her.
Viola felt another comforting embrace envelop her, love overflowing from every part of her being.
“And, as I always said,” Gillian continued, “I’m not going anywhere. Now, come and sit.”
“Where’s Hen’s bench?” Viola asked, taking Gillian’s hand as she sat beside her. It was comfortable, if a little colder than its predecessor.
“The gardeners are giving it some much-needed attention, and then I will retire it into the lodge garden. It’s a little more secluded there; it will make for a peaceful place to sit when themanor is rented out. I want our guests to have as much privacy as possible.”
“Privacy you wouldn’t afford me,” Viola sniffed with amusement.
“Do you wish I hadn’t sat here?”
“Of course not,” Viola admitted with a smirk, which deepened into a smile as she caught the self-satisfied look on Gillian’s face.
“Well then.”
“Is this why you insisted on visiting me in London instead of me coming here?” Viola said, tracing her hand along the smooth arm of the bench.
“Yes, I didn’t want the surprise ruined before your birthday.”
“Everything about today was perfect. Thank you.”
