Page 39 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
Liam had risen to his feet. “My story’s similar to Ollie’s,” he began. “Many of you know that my wife Natalie died three years ago.” Cassie could hear the catch in his voice. “We were on holiday in Greece and . . . she was hit by a van as she was crossing the road.”
He paused to drag in a long breath.
“For a long time, I blamed myself. If I had been quicker . . .” Another pause. “Anyway, Edie gave me one of her talks — as she did with many of us here. It was one sunny afternoon at the cricket, about six months after Natalie died.”
The whole church was silent. The only sound was the soft trilling of birdsong drifting in on the breeze through the open doors.
“She summoned me over, the way she does . . . did. She told me that I couldn’t have known what was going to happen, so there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. She told me to stop focusing on the way Nat had died, but on the happy memories of her life, our life together. For Robyn’s sake. And I’ve tried to do that. Thank you, Edie.”
The lump in Cassie’s throat made it hard for her to breathe.
The last to speak was Arthur Crocombe. He rose unsteadily to his feet, helped by Vicky and his carer, Marcus.
“A lot of people have stood up to say nice things about Edie. Well, I knew her a lot longer than any of you. And I’ll say this. She was a tough old bird, and had a sharp tongue that could cut you as soon as look at you. But she only used it on them as deserved it, and she never said behind your back what she wouldn’t say to your face.”
Marcus tried to take his arm to support him again, but he shook him off impatiently. “I can stand on my own two feet, thank you, and I ain’t finished yet.”
He took a moment to catch his thread again. “She was generous to a fault with her time and her money, was Edie. But she never wanted for no one to know what she did, and she didn’t care about thanks. She was never bothered that someone might take advantage of her. She always said that was between them and their conscience, and she wasn’t going to let someone else’s behaviour change how she behaved.”
He coughed and produced a large white handkerchief from his pocket to dab at his mouth.
“She came here to the church regular all through her life, but she never judged them as didn’t. Nor them as got themselves into a mess through making the wrong choices. She said you only get one chance at life and you have to live it like you mean it. She was dead right about that — she was dead right about most things. But there’s was one thing she was wrong about. She said I wouldn’t out-live her.” He finished on a note of triumph. “And I have!”
The laughter and applause rolled through the pews. Then at a signal from Eva, the organist swivelled his seat back to the keyboard and the opening notes of ‘Guide Me Oh Thou Great Jehovah’ swelled up to the high vaulted roof.
Cassie laughed softly. “Trust Nanna to pick this one. She always did like a good rousing hymn.”
“And with the traditional words,” Lisa added.
The congregation clearly liked the hymn too, belting it out with vigour, the men’s voices relishing the bass pick-up at the end of each verse. Then as the last notes died away, the pall bearers stepped forward to lift the coffin from the bier and pace slowly back down the aisle.
Now Cassie found that she was crying at last, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her mum and Lisa were crying too, and the three women linked arms again as they stepped from the pew to lead the mourners out to the graveyard.
The heat and the blazing sunshine were almost dazzling after the cool of the church. Footsteps crunched on the gravel path as they followed round to the plot Nanna had planned for herself long ago, shared with her beloved husband who had gone fifteen years earlier.
“Where they can watch the cricket through that gap in the hedge,” Lisa whispered with a soft laugh.
Cassie hadn’t intended to look for Liam, but her gaze seemed to be drawn towards him in spite of her will. He was standing with his brother. Their mum was there, and Julia, but not their dad — he would probably be looking after the practice in case there were any emergencies.
She watched him for a moment, remembering what he had said about focusing on the happy memories of his wife. There must have been so many of them. Would he ever find someone to replace her? Would he even want to?
As if he sensed her looking at him, his dark gaze turned towards her. Her heart gave a sharp thump, and she looked away quickly, hoping the sudden heat in her cheeks wasn’t a betraying blush. This was not the moment for the thoughts that were spinning in her brain.
* * *
The churchyard was a haven of peace, surrounded by trees in their full summer leaf. The grass had grown long around the gravestones, heavy bumblebees buzzed quietly among the daisies and clover and meadow crane’s-bill.
Liam let his gaze drift to the left. Three years ago he had buried Natalie there, in the shade of a leafy beech tree. He brought Robyn here regularly to visit ‘Mummy’s garden’.
She loved to tend it, picking off any faded flowers or ragged leaves and making sure there wasn’t a single weed.
His thoughts went back to that conversation with Edie Channing, that hot summer’s afternoon at the cricket . . .
* * *
“Well, young man. How are you?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
