Page 147 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘Oh, no, I went for a walk, actually. But we did chat a bit when I got back.’
‘They’re so stuck up,’ Fiona says.
‘Don’t say that!’ Wendy protests. ‘I think she’s nice. Prickly at first, but underneath I think she’s all right. And she’s going through hell right now.’
‘Not your usual attitude to people like her,’ Fiona says.
‘People like her…’ Wendy repeats softly. ‘Well, perhaps I’m changing. Perhaps I’m trying to be a bit more understanding. Everyone has reasons why they’re the way they are, you know. Nothing comes from a vacuum.’
‘God, did you meet Ghandi out there in France?’ Fiona asks. ‘Or was it the Buddha himself?’
‘Ha,’ Wendy says. ‘No, neither of those, unfortunately.’
She thinks,No, the only person I met was myself. I just sawwho I had become. And caught a glimpse of the person I could be instead.
And even though the thought strikes her as one of the most profound thoughts she has ever had, she does not say it out loud. She knows it would sound like a cliché and that her daughter would only mock her for it.One day, she thinks.Perhaps one day, when she’s older, I’ll explain.
EPILOGUE
She turns off the ignition and sits listening to the ping-pinging of the cooling engine.So here we are again, she thinks. Through the windscreen the cabin is silhouetted against a reddening afternoon sky.
‘You OK?’ Harry asks, laying one hand on her knee.
‘Yes, sorry…’ she says, as if dragging herself from a trance. ‘It’s just so strange to be back!’
She releases her seatbelt and cracks the door. ‘You know, it’s warmer today than when I got here last time?’
‘But you got here in autumn,’ Harry replies, speaking over the top of the car.
‘I know,’ Wendy says. ‘But the weather up here is nuts. Tomorrow might be sun or rain or snow. You never can tell.’
‘God, I’d love it if we got snowed in,’ Harry tells her, looking suddenly boyish.
‘Believe me,’ she says, ‘it’s overrated.’
She retrieves the keys from the lock box and leads Harry by one hand around to the front of the cabin.
‘Wow,’ he says, turning his back to the house to look out atthe view. The sun is moving behind the hill and the sky is flaming in reds and purples.
‘I knew you’d like it,’ Wendy says, standing beside him. ‘In fact, all the time I was here, I think that was the single thought I had the most often. Just how much you’d like it.’
‘I’m guessing you alternated between that one and wanting a drink,’ Harry says cheekily.
‘Yes. That did come up quite a lot, too.’
Wendy turns back to the house and fiddles with the lock until the door opens. Inside there’s a surprise: the cabin is warm.
‘Hello, hello!’ Wendy murmurs, crossing the room to crouch down in front of a new Japanese-style room heater which is belching paraffin-scented heat into the room.
‘New?’ Harry asks.
‘Yeah, it was freezing when I got here last time. At least she listens to her renters’ complaints.’
‘It’s still got the famous wood stove,’ Harry says, walking around the space, peering at things. ‘There’s a note.’ He swipes the envelope from the top of the unlit wood burner and places it between Wendy’s outstretched fingers.
You are welcome to France again!the note inside reads.I leave petrol fire for you. Please turn off immediately and put the fire to the wood pan for better smell.
‘She says it’s a petrol fire?’ Wendy says. ‘That sounds dangerous.’
