‘I want you to think of this house as your home from home,’ Jocasta said later as the three of them sat in the living room while the sun slowly set outside. ‘And I know my brother Geoffrey would want the same thing.’
Celia thanked her. ‘It’s very kind of you both,’ she said, taking in the pretty room. ‘Is that your husband?’ she asked, admiring the unusual painting of the smiling couple hanging above the unlit fire.
‘Yes,’ Jocasta said wistfully. ‘Ronnie was a wonderful painter. There are others around the house too.’ She smiled proudly. ‘You might have noticed the one of me and the baby on your way up to your room?’
She had. ‘I wondered if it had been done by the same artist.’
‘My brother wasn’t sure if I should have them hanging where I could see them all the time, but although it upsets me sometimes when I’m reminded of how much Ronnie is missing out on, they also bring me comfort.’ She glanced in the direction of the window. ‘He loved it here,’ she said with a sigh.
‘You live in a beautiful part of the country,’ Celia said. ‘Phoebe took me for a walk earlier.’
‘Thank you. It’s very different to London.’ Jocasta smiled shyly. ‘I don’t know the last time I went there. It must have been when I was about fifteen and my parents took Geoffrey and me to visit friends. Gosh, that was so long ago now.’
Celia didn’t know how old Jocasta was but surmised that she couldn’t be more than twenty-five or twenty-six. Celia wondered if she seemed older because of all that she had suffered. ‘I think that if I lived here I wouldn’t be in a rush to go anywhere else either.’
She turned to Phoebe and noticed how relaxed her sister was in this house. It was a relief to know Phoebe had a home to go to and someone as kind as Jocasta to look after her. She sat and watched Jocasta and Phoebe chatting about the events of the months they hadn’t seen each other, and how much Bryony had grown and all the things she had learnt to do or say. Phoebe appeared to be happy enough but Celia hadn’t missed the haunted look in her sister’s eyes. That business with Louis hadn’t shocked her, but she knew how deeply her sister loved Archie and could tell the guilt was eating Phoebe up inside. Celia hoped she had said enough to reassure Phoebe that she had nothing to blame herself for, but doubted her words had made much of a difference.
If only Archie would return. Phoebe had always been a strong woman – both of them were, she mused – but there was something about her sister that now seemed broken inside, and it frightened her.
Celia wondered if she should try to take Jocasta to one side and share her concerns, but she knew that if Phoebe thought she had betrayed her, then she would never trust Celia with anything ever again, and she couldn’t risk that happening.
She was going to have to trust that with Jocasta’s friendship, her sister would have the strength to find her way back to full health.
* * *
The following days and nights went by far too quickly and on their last morning, as she sat at the kitchen table with Phoebe, Jocasta and her adorable little girl who chatted away to them all constantly, Celia wished that she had asked for more time off work.
‘There’s your breakfast,’ Jocasta said, putting down a plate with a scrambled egg on a toasted slice of her freshly baked bread. ‘I wish I had more to give you, but I could only buy four eggs.’
‘One each is fine,’ Celia reassured her. ‘Especially when it’s cooked so perfectly.’
‘That’s very kind of you to say.’ Jocasta gave Phoebe hers and then sat to eat her own. ‘It’s been wonderful getting to know you, Celia,’ she said. ‘I do hope you come here again before too long. I’d love you to see Cornwall in the different seasons, as it changes so much with each one.’
Celia loved the idea. ‘Thank you, I’d love to come back.’ She smiled at Bryony. ‘It will be nice to see how much this little lady has learnt by then. She’s so clever.’
‘How she ever learns anything when she rarely stops talking, I don’t know,’ Jocasta laughed, ruffling Bryony’s hair. ‘Thank heavens she enjoys her food, it’s the only time she’s quiet.’
‘I’ll come with you to the station,’ Phoebe said. ‘I’m sure old Josh won’t mind having me for company on the way back again.’
Celia was delighted. ‘Thank you. I don’t mind admitting, it’s going to be hard saying goodbye to you again.’
She saw tears well in her sister’s eyes. ‘These few days have gone by in a blur,’ Phoebe said, her voice strangled. ‘I’m glad we’ve had a chance to talk properly.’
‘So am I. And when I come back this way, or when you come to London, we can talk more.’
‘I’d like that,’ Phoebe said.
‘You’d better get on,’ Jocasta teased. ‘Old Josh is going to be coming down the lane in ten minutes and won’t think anything of not stopping if he doesn’t see you ready and waiting for him.’
* * *
As Celia waved goodbye to her sister from the entrance to the train station, she couldn’t shake the thought that she would have to make a plan to return as soon as she had the chance. However much Phoebe wanted her to believe she was fine, Celia knew that she was far more troubled than she was letting on.