Page 88 of Beyond Her Manner
“I didn’t mean for things to end like this,” Gillian admitted. “To drive you away. I will miss our chats and our odd little adventures together.”
Gillian took the short nod from Viola as agreement as the room filled with stifling tension.
Viola broke the strained silence by clearing her throat. “May I ask a favour?” Her tone was polite, distant, devoid of emotion, like she’d given up on the world.
Gillian looked at Viola, forcing herself to meet her gaze. A sadness shimmered in her eyes. Gillian’s body tensed as a surge of guilt and helplessness washed over her. “Of course,” she replied, her voice soft yet cautious, bracing herself for what was coming.
Viola hesitated, her fingers lightly tapping against the arm of the chair as though searching for the right words. “Would you look after the place for me until the sale goes through?”
Gillian blinked, feeling a sharp pang at the thought of Viola leaving. She nodded, trying to mask the disappointment that threatened to surface. “Yes,” she said, her voice steady despite the knot forming in her throat. “I’d be honoured.”
Viola’s lips twitched into what may have been a small, forced smile. Gillian couldn’t be sure; it disappeared almost as quickly as it came. “Thank you,” she replied, her tone formal and guarded. “Feel free to use it as you need.”
Gillian nodded whilst a million thoughts raced through her mind. Was this how things were going to end between them? So stiff, so painfully polite?
Viola sat forward in her seat. “If you need anything or have questions about the sale—”
“Yes,” Gillian cut in, hopeful she may suggest calling her.
“Then contact my solicitor; he will handle everything.” Viola’s voice wavered slightly, as though she, too, sensed the finality in her words.
Gillian opened her mouth to speak, to say something meaningful. All that came out was a quiet, “Okay.”
The formality of it all — the businesslike tone, the solicitor — made the emptiness in Gillian’s stomach grow. She wanted to ask if this was goodbye, if Viola truly planned to disappear from her life as abruptly as she’d entered it, but she couldn’t find the courage to say it aloud.
Viola stood. “I suppose that’s everything,” she murmured, making her way to the door.
Gillian followed her through to the hall, skirting around her to open the front door even when she knew by opening it she was helping Viola step through it and leave.
“Goodbye, Gillian,” Viola said, her voice distant, as though she was already half gone.
Was that a final farewell? Her way of saying they wouldn’t be speaking again? The question sat heavily inside Gillian as Viola stepped outside onto the path.
Before Gillian could muster a response, Viola turned and walked away, her pace brisk and determined. Gillian stood frozen, watching Viola’s hands lift to her face. Was she crying? A wave of uncertainty hit her, tightening in her chest. She wanted to call out something, though what words she didn’t know.
She stared down the empty path long after Viola vanished from sight, her gaze lingering on where she’d last seen her. Slowly, she closed the door, her fingers absentmindedly grazing her cheek as she felt something on them. Realising her eyes were damp, she brushed them with the back of her hand.
She retraced her steps to the sitting room and collapsed back into her seat, the weight of the past thirty minutes crashing over her. Had Viola’s visit happened, or was it a dream? She was about to regain everything she wanted, yet instead of the relief or excitement she imagined, an unsettling hollowness lowered onto her chest, meeting the nausea which rose from her stomach.
Viola wiped her eyes as she closed the gate of the lodge behind her, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her harder than she cared to admit. She’d promised herself that once inside, she would keep her feelings in check, compartmentalise, but that was easier said than done. Gillian made her feel things even when she tried not to. She did so even when she was angry, which she clearly had been when she realised she was mistakenabout Jonathon’s painting — and, worse, that she held no rights to it at all.
She could see the confusion and fury in Gillian’s eyes, yet beneath there was something deeper that tugged at Viola. It was the way Gillian’s voice stiffened, her tone deliberately neutral, as if she were trying to mask how much she cared; the way her mouth opened to speak only to close again as if she were holding back words she didn’t dare speak.
Exhaling slowly, she walked the well-trodden route down the drive. The tension in her body and the knot in her chest reminded her how complicated things had become.
“Ah, Viola,” came Bridget’s voice, making her jump. “I was coming to invite you to tea next week.”
She hadn’t even noticed the woman walking towards her. A quick, subtle dab of her eyes was in order; unfortunately, it didn’t get past Bridget’s notice.
“Are you okay? I’ve seen many people leave Gillian’s crying, even done it once or twice myself. I never expected you to be among us.”
“I’m leaving Kingsford, selling up,” Viola said quickly, hoping it would be enough to divert her.
“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” Bridget blinked, then eyed Viola with curiosity and concern.
“I have a tour of Australia until Christmas, and then I’ll be in America for a while after the new year, followed by Europe, so, you know, lots to keep me busy. Plus, it’s all a bit too much living in the countryside; this place is a lot of work. I love it, and I find a strange kind of peace here, even if I miss the city, but I mainly find burden and responsibility.”
“Might you visit occasionally, for peace, without the burden and responsibility?” Bridget asked gently.
