It seemed such a shame that Orla had decided to live in a place like Lorford and not choose to be a part of things. As Luke walked through the village that morning, he could see that it was the sort of place one should move to if one wanted to be a part of things. There was such a feeling of community, with the little shops, the sweet rows of cottages and the people out walking their dogs. There were a few tourists down by the quay. The café was open and there were people lining up for one of the boat trips along the river, and what a perfect day it was for that too, with the sun sparkling on the water. It might not be as bustling as Aldeburgh or Southwold further up the coast, but Lorford had many charms and Luke felt sad that Orla shut herself away from them all. What was it she was so afraid of? He instinctively felt that these people would be nothing but kind and welcoming to Orla, but she had to meet them halfway. He wanted to find out what it was that kept her hidden away from the world, and he knew that Helen had been intrigued too. She had wanted to reach out to Orla, but raising the subject would be tricky. After all, it was a miracle that he was staying there at all. He couldn’t expect her just to open up to him after knowing him for so little time.
He wondered what Helen would make of it all – of him coming to Lorford and finding Orla and staying at the castle with her. He guessed Helen hadn’t known about the castle and he couldn’t help imagining her response at finding out about it and seeing it for the first time. She’d have loved it; he knew that much. She had a special appreciation for England’s ancient buildings and Luke so desperately wanted to share it all with her.
But you wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t died.
He sighed, knowing it was true, but not wanting to hear that horrible little voice telling him.
He looked down at his hands. He didn’t wear a wedding ring. Helen hadn’t put any pressure on him to do so. It was dangerous in his line of work, she realised that, but she did often tease him about that just being an excuse. Now, he wished he had that link to her. He wouldn’t care if it put him at risk. At least he’d have that connection.
His memory rolled back to the moment when he’d slid that slim band of gold onto Helen’s finger. Theirs had been a simple wedding. They hadn’t had much money for anything fancy. The local registry office had been good enough for them, with a reception at Helen’s parents’ house afterwards. Helen’s mother had gone all out with the flowers. Luke still remembered Helen’s face when she’d seen them all: great towers of flowers, completely disguising the modest semi-detached. It had been so beautiful. And Helen. She had taken his breath away with her hair swept up and her long lacy dress in the softest of creams. When he’d placed the ring on her finger, she’d whispered to him that she’d never take it off, and she never had.
She was still wearing it now, he thought, in that other dimension, wherever she was. She had taken it with her. Helen’s mother had asked him if he wouldn’t rather have it as a keepsake, but it hadn’t been his to take. It was Helen’s ring and he had respected her wishes to wear it always.
Closing his eyes for a moment to regain his composure, he got up from the bench before leaving the quay at a fast pace. Walking helped to calm him down. That steady, simple rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other really helped to ease the grip of grief, he found. The only trouble with Lorford was that it was so small, and he soon found himself back in the market square. He paused, looking around as if reminding himself of where he was, and then he saw the small village store and walked towards it, picking up a basket and filling it with groceries. It was one of those mindless, everyday tasks that was proving to be a little lifesaver in its own way.
‘You on holiday?’ the lady behind the counter asked him as she took his money a few minutes later.
Luke was surprised by her question. ‘Kind of, I guess.’
‘Staying locally?’
‘In the castle.’
Her mouth dropped open at this declaration. ‘Lorford Castle?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re a friend of . . .’ her voice petered out.
‘Miss Kendrick, yes,’ he said.
‘Well, that’s . . . very nice.’
Luke nodded, not knowing whether to add anything. After all, Orla didn’t have anything to do with the village.
‘I’ll see you soon,’ he said as he left the shop, thinking that word of his arrival would soon get around the village.
Crossing the square, he took a quick look at the menu outside the pub, and then he saw it. The noticeboard. Set on the wall by the bus stop, it was full of the usual village stuff: when the next council meeting was to be held, what Lorford was doing to become more green and – Luke blinked – a horticultural group. New members welcome. The people of Lorford, Luke had noticed, loved their gardens, so it was no surprise to him that there was a horticultural society being advertised. The next talk was that very week and was entitled ‘Herbs: why you should grow them and how you can use them’.
Luke read the poster again, taking it all in, and
