‘None of us know where any of us of are heading,’ said Tassie. ‘But you can draw a map of things that make your heart sing. What would be on your map if you could choose?’
Clara sat in thought.
‘Henry. Pansy. You. My grandmother. My mum. The cottage.’ She paused.
‘What else makes you happy?’ Tassie encouraged.
‘Seeing Rachel safe. Her plans for the bakery. The tearooms. But I don’t think she can do that without money and no bank will lend her the money with her history and age.’
‘That seems unfair,’ said Tassie shaking her head. ‘Her ideas are lovely and would be the makings of this village. Hopefully one day she can make enough money to make that dream come true. What she needs is some business help. Or a partner.’
Tassie felt Clara’s eyes on her and then she heard Clara laugh.
‘Oh wow, you are good,’ said Clara shaking her head.
‘Good at what, dear?’ asked Tassie as she swept the pea pods into her apron and carried them to the bin.
‘Whatever you did just then,’ said Clara.
Pansy walked into the kitchen and climbed into Clara’s lap.
‘I can read letters,’ she said to Clara.
‘I know, Tassie told me. She said you were the brightest one in her class.’
Pansy beamed at Clara and then nestled into her. ‘I’m tired. It’s hot outside.’
‘Yes, we will go home and see Gumboot and Daddy.’
Clara looked at Tassie who was washing the peas in the sink.
‘Do you think Rachel might want to talk to me about it?’ she asked tentatively. ‘I don’t want to push in where I’m not wanted. Like with Henry. He might not want me once the cottage is finished.’
Tassie turned to Clara.
‘Clara Maxwell, you are not only wanted in Merryknowe, you are also needed. Now go and take that child home and talk to Henry about what you want and the ribbons and shoes and everything else on your mind and then have a swim down at the creek and cool down. You Taurus girls get so het up when you don’t have the bullseye in your sight.’
44
The walls of the cottage were rough and worn as Henry patched and sanded them, preparing them for the pink paint.
He hummed a song. He couldn’t remember where he first learned the tune or even what it was but the song was company as he worked.
The roof was fixed; the inside walls were painted. The living room was becoming more habitable, and Clara had ordered a sofa online to be delivered soon. They had chosen it together while lying in bed one night, their feet rubbing as they scrolled through the iPad. Henry had bought her a rug she had admired but said she couldn’t afford just yet, and he was excited to see her face when it arrived.
Now they had the internet and the washing machine was busy spinning in the kitchen.
The chickens were laying and chatting as they moved about their coop, and Gumboots was lying on the path in the sunshine, being patient as Pansy drew around him in chalk.
‘We have to get your uniform tomorrow, Pansy,’ he said, ‘and then head in to get some school shoes and a bag.’
Pansy didn’t seem to hear or wasn’t interested. Perhaps he was speaking aloud so as to remind himself, he thought.
He had thought about asking Clara to come but he didn’t want to burden her with being in the stepmother role. This was his responsibility and he needed to do it.
Pansy’s work with Tassie was helping her not only learn her sounds and letters and some words, but also to be less impetuous and inappropriate. He realised she got away with more than she should have because he didn’t want her to be sad, but sadness was a part of life, and him telling Pansy off for being rude or using swear words wasn’t being mean, it was being a parent.
He checked the time and wondered when Clara would be back. He missed her when they weren’t together. She had brought Pansy back from Tassie’s, dropped her off and said she had something important to do. She seemed to be grumpy and he wondered what was going on.
‘Pans,’ he called out.
‘Yeah?’
‘Yes, Daddy, not yeah,’ he said.
‘Yeah, Daddy?’
Close enough, he reasoned.
‘What did Clara say at Tassie’s house before you left?’
Pansy thought for a moment. ‘She said that you won’t want her when you have finished the cottage.’
Henry felt his mouth drop open.
Why on earth would she feel that?
He put down his tools and walked into the cottage and sat at the kitchen table. Fresh eggs sat in a little pink bowl that they had found at the second-hand shop in Chippenham. The last of the roses were in a glass on the windowsill. Pansy’s special cup that she drank her milk from was drying on the dish rack. His shoes were next to Clara’s by the back door.
And Naomi was in the cupboard.
He knew what he needed to do but he didn’t know if Clara wanted it also.
God, love was complicated. Old love, new love, all love.
And Naomi.
He left his chair and went to the cupboard and opened it and took the container of her ashes out and put them on the table across from where he was sitting.
‘Hi, babe,’ he said to her.
Hi, babe, he heard her say.
‘I’m in love with Clara.’
I know.
He smiled.
‘It doesn’t mean I love you any less.’
I know.
He paused.
‘What am I saying yes to?’ he asked and he closed his eyes and listened.
All of it, came her voice and he felt his eyes hurt with tears and he swallowed his pain.
‘Can I love you and love her?’
Yes, Naomi said and he reached across the table and pulled the container to him, holding it.
‘I have to let you go,’ he said.
I need to go, she said. It’s time.
‘I know,’ he wept, holding her close.
Will you let me go now, Henry? Will you promise to love our daughter and love your girl and be fully
