Unless it was something else. Luke knew it had taken him a good few years to get his own business off the ground and that they’d had to make a few sacrifices along the way. Fancy holidays had been out for a while, and he’d had to make do with repairs to his old van because there wasn’t any way they’d have been able to afford a new one. Had Helen put her own dreams on hold so that Luke had been able to pursue his? The thought had never occurred to him before, but now he felt it like an arrow in the heart. Had he been so selfish as not to have seen Helen’s sacrifice? Had she resented him each morning she’d left for work for that mind-numbing commute to the job she didn’t love?
‘Oh, God!’ he cursed, the sea-blown air carrying his words away so that he imagined them circling with the gulls above, and then he sank down onto the shingle, his head in his hands as the darkness engulfed him again. It came on very suddenly, he’d learned, like a great tsunami. He’d lost whole days to it, and he was utterly helpless to stop it. Then, he’d feel completely drained. He took a moment now as the image of Helen’s sweet face sharpened in his mind.
I’m so sorry, he told her silently.
Don’t be such a loon!
‘Helen?’ He looked up, convinced he’d heard her voice and that she’d be standing right before him on the beach. But, she wasn’t. He had so many moments like that: hearing her, imagining her, feeling her presence. Was that normal, he wondered? Was it some weird kind of coping mechanism? There was nobody you could ask about it. Nobody he knew had lost a spouse. Perhaps it was a fault in him that only death brought to the fore. Perhaps he was weak; he couldn’t face something as big as death so he was trying to somehow bring her back. By imagining that she was still there, however briefly, he was essentially denying death. Of course, those moments were all too brief and the enormity of the truth soon overwhelmed him once more. Helen had gone. She wasn’t coming back. Those fragmentary moments when he thought she was there, when he heard her voice, when he glimpsed her in the corner of his eye, were just in his mind, weren’t they?
He let his gaze settle on the sea, watching the incessant waves rolling in, blue-grey and beautiful, their rhythm gently soothing his soul and helping his mind to still. He welcomed these brief moments that came in-between the bouts of pain and he would try to cling onto them for as long as possible, knowing that the onslaught of grief was just a thought away.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat on the beach for, but it was long enough to start to feel better. Standing up, he brushed himself down and walked into the sand dunes and then along a footpath which led back into Lorford, stopping as he came to the road. He knew his way back to the castle, but there was a grassy track which caught his attention and made him take a little detour. The track widened and he soon saw that it led to the village allotments. He paused for a moment, taking it all in. There were dozens of plots, all neatly fenced with tiny sheds in various stages of dilapidation and chocolate-brown beds ready for planting. Spring greens coloured some of the spaces and there were structures erected in others for the beans and peas of summer. There were compost bins and water butts, and whole cities of canes ready for action. And, rising magnificent above it all was the castle. He took a minute to absorb it all and then he became aware of a white-haired man who was watching him. Luke gave him a brief nod and the older man nodded back.
‘Glad to see you’re up and about now,’ the man said to him as he walked towards the wooden gate at the end of his allotment.
Luke did a double take. ‘Pardon?’
‘Glad to see you’re okay. After . . .’ The man paused. ‘You don’t remember me?’
‘We’ve met?’
‘On the beach.’
‘But I was alone on the beach,’ Luke said, becoming more confused by the minute.
‘Earlier this morning.’
Luke swallowed hard. ‘Ah.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘I am. Listen . . .’
‘No need to say anything,’ the man said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Luke said nonetheless.
The man opened the gate and stepped forward onto the path, wiping his hands on the front of his cord trousers before extending one towards Luke.
‘I’m Bill.’
‘Luke.’
‘Good to meet you, Luke.’
‘I wasn’t feeling very well,’ Luke told him. ‘This morning. I hope I didn’t put you to any trouble.’
‘Not at all.’
‘You’ve got a nice plot here,’ Luke said, keen to change the subject as quickly as possible.
‘Thank you. You know I garden for Miss Kendrick up at the castle?’
‘Oh, right. I didn’t know.’
‘I mean, she does a fair bit herself, of course.’ Bill pursed his lips together. ‘You two getting on all right?’
‘Sure. She’s made me feel very welcome.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes.’ Luke was surprised that Bill looked so puzzled by this.
‘Today was – well – it was the first time I met her in person.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve never seen her before.’
Luke frowned. ‘Never seen her? What – ever?’
‘Not so much as a passing glimpse. We do all our communication through written notes.’
Luke took this in. ‘She’s a bit of a recluse, isn’t she?’
‘The first one I’ve ever known.’
‘Do you think it’s because of what happened to her?’
