Page 32 of The Shape of Your Heart
As I drive to the churchyard, a cocktail of emotions floods through my veins. Remorse is there, shame, self-blame, as I tear into myself for being too preoccupied, too selfish to remember what day it is.
On the way, I pay my second visit of the day to Lily’s farm shop and buy a dozen red roses – not the stiff, imported variety, but irregular, softly scented blooms, most likely newly picked from Lily’s own garden.
Reaching the church, I switch the engine off, sitting there for a moment. Bathed in late afternoon sunlight, St Enodoc’s is surrounded by countryside, with views across fields towards Rock and the sea. Getting out, I walk over to the churchyard.
Today feels like a day of many days; one that’s taken me from sadness to hope, before bringing me full circle as I find Liam’s grave. Sitting on the grass, I place the roses one by one on his grave. ‘Happy birthday,’ I say quietly. ‘I miss you.’ Suddenly my emotions erupt. ‘I wish you could hear me,’ I say more loudly. Then, ‘I really wish you’d bloody say something to me. All this time, Liam. And what have you given me?Absolutely nothing.’
Anger swirls inside me, anger that’s inappropriate given that I’m sitting beside his grave. Or is it? I’m feeling it. I have every right to.
‘How long’s it been?’ The voice comes from behind me.
Turning around, I see a woman about my age, with green eyes and long strawberry-blond hair. ‘Just over a year.’
She looks at me curiously. ‘Your husband?’
‘Almost,’ I say quietly, getting up.
‘Mine died three years ago. The tosser got drunk and drove his car into a tree. Left me two toddlers and all his debts. Didn’t stop me loving him, though.’
‘Funny thing about love,’ I say to her. ‘Not at all logical, is it?’
‘No. I used to come down here and beat his grave with my fist, calling him everything under the sun. One day, this old priest came over. I thought he was going to tear me off a strip, but he sat next to me while I effed and blinded. When I was done, he patted my hand. He said it was all part of it and that I should get it out of my system. Then he said at some point I’d remember the good days.’
I’m taken aback. ‘Did you?’
She shakes her head. ‘Shortly after he said that, the house was repossessed. I moved in with my parents. They’ve been a godsend, though it wears a bit thin, all of us cooped up together. Remembering the good times…’ She shrugged. ‘Fact was, there weren’t any, if I’m honest.’
‘Liam and I were really happy,’ I tell her. ‘We’d been together for five years. We were about to move into our dream home. Then on the way to our wedding, he was killed in a road accident.’
‘Fuck.’ She looks shocked. ‘Sorry. But that’s so sad.’
‘Yes. I’d just arrived at the church when I found out.’
‘Fuck.’ She stares at me. ‘And after, you feel so bloody guilty, don’t you? Just for being alive. God. Mind you, I don’t think we would have lasted. I thought having children might force mine to change his ways, but he drank too much – and he was weak.’
But Liam was none of those things. ‘Liam was lovely. Kind, sensitive, always had time for people… He was a really good guy.’
‘No one’s that perfect,’ she says drily. ‘He must have had a skeleton or two hidden away.’ She frowns. ‘I’m sorry. Ignore me – I can’t believe I said that. I don’t even know you – or him. I’m just a cynical woman who finds it hard to trust people.’
I find myself liking her honesty. ‘I’m Callie.’
‘Tanith.’ She holds out a beautifully manicured hand. ‘We should start a club. The Graveyard Groupies, or Bereaved Bitches – what do you think? Shall I take your mobile number?’
14
NATHAN
I find it impossible to settle after lunch. That I’m having to rethink the development project is playing on my mind – but so is Callie. Maybe today is a significant date or something – an anniversary, or a birthday. But for some reason, this morning she seemed preoccupied.
In the end, I close my laptop. It seems pointless sitting at my desk when I don’t know what I’m doing. Getting up, I go outside. The sky is a warm blue, a last blast of summer – before another storm hits, I can’t help thinking.
Getting in my car, I set off for Callie’s house, but then I decide to make a detour to Lily’s to buy more flowers for her.
* * *
The bell jingles as I walk in and as the door closes behind me, the smell of freshly baked bread reaches me. Going over to the flowers, I peruse the bouquets. Drawn to one of mixed white flowers and what I now know to be herbs, I pick it up, then put it back. When Callie’s garden is filled with flowers, I want to give her something simple, elegant, different.
Another bouquet catches my eye, of soft-petalled red roses. Lifting it up, I breathe in its fragrance, deliberating over them for a moment, before deciding I’m as certain as I can be that Callie would love these.
