Page 40 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
“No you’re not.” No shilly-shallying from Edie. “I can see it in your eyes. Takes a long time to get over a loss like you’ve had — longer than you think.”
“It’s been six months.” Six months already? It felt like days.
Edie waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Six months is nothing — part of you will grieve for her forever. And that’s as it should be. But sooner or later another part of you will begin to move on, and that’s as it should be too. You can’t hold back life — it keeps on pushing forward.”
It felt as if she was reading his mind.
“You have a little girl, and she’ll be growing up. For her sake you need to focus on the happy memories. For your own sake too. You only get one life, and sometimes bad things come. But if you let yourself get stuck in that then you’re wasting every other chance you might have. Don’t you think Natalie would have wanted you to be happy again?”
He hesitated, struggling to admit that she was probably right. “I suppose she would.”
“There’s no suppose about it. She was a lovely girl, but she’s gone. And you’re still here, and so is your daughter. Take as much time as you need, but don’t feel guilty when you find yourself beginning to enjoy life again.”
* * *
He smiled to himself as he stood with the group around Edie’s grave. She really had been a wise old bird. And she had been right — more and more he had found himself enjoying life.
Little things — riding along the coast path on a good horse, coming in on a cold, wet night to settle down in front of the fire with a book while his daughter slept upstairs.
At first he would catch himself with a stab of guilt — it had felt as if he was minimising everything Natalie had been to him. But as Edie had said, life keeps pushing forward.
Without any conscious intent he had let his gaze drift back to Cassie, standing with her mother and her sister. She had beencrying — her eyes were still damp, her mascara smudged on her cheeks.
This must be so hard for her. She had loved her grandmother. At least she had got home in time, even if it had only been for a few days.
And now that Edie was gone, how long would she stay? Maybe for her old friend Debbie’s wedding, and possibly for Tom’s. And then . . . ? Would that deep-rooted desire for adventure lure her away again?
Yes, it probably would.
Eva spoke the last prayer, and the coffin was lowered gently into the ground. Richard and Helen Channing stepped forward to drop flowers on top, followed by their three children, then more neighbours and friends — white lilies, roses and carnations, creating a fragrant mound of white petals.
At last, with murmurs of farewell to the grand old lady who had been so much the heart of the village, everyone set off to stroll the short distance down the hill to the wake in the Carleton Hotel.
Liam fell into step with his mother and brother. Luke glanced across at him and dropped a hand on his shoulder. “You okay, Bro?”
Liam grinned back at him. “I’m getting there.”
“It was a tough time for you.”
“It was. But you were all there for me — I appreciate that. And Edie had it right — life keeps pushing forward.”
Their mum smiled at them both but said nothing.
At the hotel a generous buffet had been set out in the function room, and the run of French windows along one wall were open to the terrace and the view of the bay.
Liam collected a small plate of food then wandered around the room, mingling. It was good to catch up with people hehadn’t seen for a while — so many of them had had to leave Sturcombe because of the lack of work and affordable homes.
“I was sorry to hear about your wife.”
“Thank you.” The cut was still there, deep, but he had learned to acknowledge sympathy in the way it was meant.
“But you have a little girl?”
“Yes.” He smiled and drew his phone from his pocket, always willing to show off photographs of Robyn.
“Oh, she’s so pretty. How old is she?”
“Five.”
