Clara went to grab Tassie’s cup who moved it away.
‘Nothing to see, love,’ she said quickly and Clara wondered what Tassie had seen in her cup.
But she was more curious about who the visitor would be who wasn’t welcome. She couldn’t think of anyone, and dismissed it as quickly as she had entertained the idea. Tassie was an old superstitious lady who was clearly a worrier, and Clara decided to ignore her worries, lest they became hers.
15
Henry buttered the bread and then filled the sandwich with salami and cheese and cut it into triangles.
He used to ask Pansy if she preferred triangles or squares, but that was when Naomi was alive.
Now he put the sandwich on a plate in front of Pansy and sat down opposite her in the small booth in their van.
‘You must stop saying rude things to people, Pansy.’
Pansy shrugged and chewed on her salami and cheese sandwich, leaving the crusts on the plate. ‘It’s not rude if it’s true.’ She spoke almost to herself, as though chewing the idea over as she ate.
‘Sometimes saying the truth is rude, and it can hurt people’s feelings,’ said Henry as he glanced out the window at the cottage, wondering what Clara was doing.
‘But you tell me to always tell the truth. Make your mind up,’ Pansy muttered.
‘Eat your crusts – they makes your hair curly,’ said Henry.
‘My hair was curly when I was born.’
‘That’s because your mum ate her crusts and you then inherited those crusts so you got curly hair.’
Pansy looked at him suspiciously. ‘Sometimes I think a lot of what you say is not true. Sorry if it’s rude but I think you’re a fibber.’
Henry burst out laughing. ‘Oh, do you?’
‘Yes, this is why I have to go to school. So I can learn what is true and what isn’t.’
Henry swept some imaginary crumbs off the table onto his plate.
‘I am teaching you everything you need to know,’ he said, knowing he was being defensive. Pansy rolled her eyes and he thought she had never looked more like Naomi.
After lunch, Pansy went back to the cottage to be with her new best friend Rachel. If she was stating that a woman in her twenties who had a horrible mother was her best friend, then she did need to go to school and make friends her own age, he thought.
He had taught her the alphabet and she could count and they were doing simple word-recognition games. Naomi had said she would home-school Pansy when she was born and he wanted to honour her by ensuring he did educate his daughter but it was harder than he realised and he had to work.
Besides, school required a home address and they didn’t have one.
He looked at the house plans and mentally calculated how long the renovation would take. Probably close to four months, maybe a little longer, depending on the weather. They were in the summer now but the rain still came and storms that could stop all roof work.
School seemed problematic because once Pansy was in the system they would have to stay in the system and what would happen when they had to leave Merryknowe to a new job? She would have to change schools again and make new friends and this could continue while he chased jobs around the country.
If he was honest with himself, he was tired of travelling. He felt like he was on the run from something or someone and now he needed to rest. He wanted to sit in a garden and feel good about the work he had done that day. He wanted a room with doors and some adult company. He wanted a little house like Acorn Cottage.
Henry rubbed his temples, wondering what he should do, and he looked at the shelf where Naomi’s ashes sat patiently in a box she painted before she died. Tiny flowers and animals and colours like jewels covered the box, and even though he had looked at it a thousand times and more, he saw for the first time a little white owl on the side of the box.
The owl was no bigger than his smallest fingernail yet there it was, showing itself for the first time since Naomi had died. Was that where Pansy had seen the owl? Had she been looking at the box?
‘Tell me what to do, babe,’ he said to the box. ‘Tell me what Pansy needs.’
A knock on the van door made him jump and he opened the door to see Clara.
‘I’m taking Rachel back to the bakery. She doesn’t want to see her mother, even though the hospital rang to say she went through surgery and is stable.’
‘Okay,’ said Henry. ‘That’s a good outcome for Mrs Brown but I can understand why Rachel doesn’t want to see her. I wouldn’t either.’
‘Me neither,’ said Clara. ‘It’s so awful. Also, Pansy wants to come to town with me. I said I would have to ask you. You might like an hour to yourself.’
‘You don’t have to do that,’ he said.
‘I know, but she wants to see Rachel’s bedroom. Can I use her booster seat for the car?’
‘I don’t think Rachel’s bedroom will be quite what Pansy thinks it will be.’
‘I know but hey, the company would be nice and she’s an excellent mood lifter for Rachel.’
Henry laughed. ‘You’re right about that. After Naomi died, she was just a light energy and sometimes I felt guilty for laughing at her antics and conversations but she really did get me through that time with her spirit.’
‘She’s pretty special, Henry; you and Naomi should be proud.’
Henry felt his eyes sting with tears and he lowered his face away from Clara’s.
‘Sure, go for it. I can make some orders while she’s out. And don’t let her con you into buying her anything.’
Henry tried to think of the last time he’d had time away from Pansy. He couldn’t remember; she was