It was two weeks later, in the middle of March, when Uncle David and Eric came to visit, along with Rima and Clementine.
‘Look at it here,’ Uncle David said. ‘I hardly recognize it!’
‘Yes you do,’ said Penny, smiling. ‘It’s almost exactly as you left it.’
Her uncle took in the pub. Penny had, to be fair, put her stamp on it. Things were cleaner and more orderly. She’d added in more textures to the rooms – softer throws and pillows and different candle holders and linen napkins instead of paper ones. The fires were always stacked, even if it wasn’t cold enough to light one, and the bar glistened and gleamed. Various members of staff made their way towards their old boss, genuinely thrilled to see him. Penny waited patiently as David asked after husbands and wives, children and parents, his rapport with his staff obvious and natural.
‘Good to see you looking well,’ Charlie said to him. ‘You frightened the life out of us.’
Not one of them, though, asked if he was coming back. It was obvious to everyone that he wouldn’t be – he looked so well, in fact, that a return to his old lifestyle would surely cause nothing but damage.
‘It’s the best thing we ever did, spending time down there on the coast,’ he said to more than one person, riffing on how healing being near the water was, and how restorative the sea air.
Clementine, Rima and Eric had gone on a short tour of the area so that Penny and her uncle could catch up whilst Eric could check in on friends they’d not seen in a while to invite them for drinks later. Penny told Uncle David that Francesco had gone. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told him before. She wondered if saying it to him would have made Francesco’s leaving seem important, and for weeks she’d tried to make out it wasn’t so. She’d tried calling Francesco that morning before she’d even got out of bed and had chance to lose her nerve, but the phone issued a foreign dial tone and rang out. She didn’t text to follow up: he’d see the missed call. That was enough.
‘That’s such a shame,’ Uncle David said, looking around the flat and taking an inventory of what Penny had changed. ‘I liked Francesco, very much. I liked him being up here with you, too.’
‘Well,’ said Penny, offering up a plate of biscuits. ‘Let me tell you, he could be a real dick.’
Uncle David stirred cream into his coffee. ‘Can’t we all,’ he said, mildly.
‘No,’ said Penny. ‘But I mean like, possessive. Dark. Moody. And jealous.’
‘Of you?’
‘Yeah.’
Uncle David considered this information. ‘And you?’ he said, finally.
‘What do you mean, and me?’
‘Could you be dark or moody with him?’
Penny considered this. She had so seldom ever felt anything other than excited to be with Francesco, really. He made everything seem more exciting. Even in the kitchen, after hours, eating pasta. For a stretch, there hadn’t needed to be anything else.
‘I mean, I didn’t put on a performance for him or anything,’ she said, eventually. ‘I was just who I am with him.’ Saying it, she reflected immediately on how that sounded. She was able to be herself with him, which is a privilege so few are afforded.
‘Hmmm,’ said Uncle David.
‘Anyway,’ she said, changing the subject. She was boring herself with this post-mortem of him, and of her. Of them. There wasn’t even a ‘them’ if he wouldn’t bloody take her calls. ‘How are you? You look a hundred times better than you have. Even since Christmas. It’s really, really good to see.’
Uncle David nodded. ‘I’m good,’ he said. ‘So much better. It’s the sea air. And Eric – he’s so much happier down there. He was done with the pub for a long time before I was ready to admit it.’
‘I know how that feels,’ Penny said, instantly wishing she hadn’t. There was no need.
‘I thought you’d be happier,’ Uncle David remarked. ‘I thought you’d thrive.’
‘I’ve done my best,’ she said, in a small voice.
Uncle David sighed. ‘So I’m the only one who wants to be here,’ he intoned. ‘And everybody else is just my prisoner.’
Penny didn’t know what to say. That wasn’t too far from the truth, really, was it? He’d imposed his will on Eric, and then Penny.
‘You don’t ever want to sell it?’ Penny said, gently.
‘I suppose I had better start thinking about it,’ he said, and Penny could barely let herself breathe in case she interrupted this train of thought. Had he really just said he would think about selling? Penny sat very still. She waited.
Finally he continued, ‘It breaks my heart, but … I think it’s time, isn’t it?’
Penny shook her head. ‘I can’t make that choice for you,’ she settled on.
‘It’s fine,’ David said. ‘I’ve expected too much from you. Every week I’ve got better is a week you’ve sounded less like yourself. I really thought I was doing the right thing. I really thought you’d love it here. I really thought you’d get the Bib Gourmand and it would make you hungry for more.’
‘You can’t come back?’
‘I need to think about the best thing to do. We’re so happy down in Cornwall – Eric is so happy in Cornwall. I’m finally treating him like the priority he should be, instead of making the pub the top of my list. Clementine said I’ve been unfair on you. Do you think I have?’
‘I don’t think anything, Davvy. I’d go to the moon and back for you.’
‘That doesn’t mean I should ask you to,’ he smiled. ‘I’m so impressed by what you’ve done here, you know,’ he continued. ‘Can you tell me that you understand how impressive what you’ve done is?’
Penny shrugged. ‘We all worked hard,’ she said. ‘And we all feel proud, I think.’
Eric appeared at the door of the lounge.
‘What are you two whispering about?’ he said, playfully. He added, ‘Oooh, coffee – great. I need a warmer.’
Uncle David shot Penny a look.
‘Never you mind,’ he said, before adding, ‘Did you catch anyone? Who can come for a drink later?’
Penny felt about eighty different emotions. She felt excitement about what David had said. She felt regret that she hadn’t ever felt different about being there. She felt relief that David had made the decision for her. And she felt blind panic, too, because without the excuse of the pub to hold her back, what was stopping her from starting her family now? Everyone knew the old adage that there is never a great time to do it, but it seemed to Penny that this was about as good as it was going to get for her. She could go back to Bridges, back to her flat, keep the cover chef on part time for when the baby came and then … well. And then she didn’t know what. She’d work part time? She’d get childcare? She’d live frugally and have the café look after itself for a while? Whatever the decision, she had options. And for the first time in ages Penny understood what that meant. Choices. Decisions. She was, finally, back in the driving seat of her own destiny and so the time was, terrifyingly, exhilaratingly, perfectly, now.
‘I need to talk to you,’ Penny said to Clementine. ‘I’m having some thoughts and feelings.’
‘Shocker,’ said Clementine, smiling.
‘Uncle David just told me he’s selling.’
‘What?’ said Clementine. ‘Really?’
‘Yes. I can go back to Bridges. I’m free!’
Clementine hugged her sister. Still keeping her voice low she said, ‘When?’
Penny shrugged. ‘Probably not for a while, but he’s going to put the wheels in motion.’
‘I see,’ said Clementine. ‘Well. God. That’s so good for you! I mean, don’t take this the wrong way but obviously I’m sad this place won’t be in our family anymore. It’s the right thing and everything but like, it’s where we grew up, isn’t it?’
Penny understood what she meant. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘But.’
‘But,’ Clementine said, nodding.
‘It’s not my job to protect that.’
‘It really isn’t,’ said Clementine.
They both sat with that realization.
‘Will you still be my surrogate?’ Penny said, eventually.
Clementine turned to her. ‘You’re sure you’re ready?’
Penny let out a little whoop of glee, careful not to let their uncles hear. ‘So ready!’ she said. ‘Now that I am free!’
‘And how does it feel,’ Christina said, ‘now that you have been truthful with the men you have been seeing?’
‘Lighter,’ Penny said, sat again in the IKEA-furnished room of her therapist, a tissue in her hands. ‘I was crying a lot before. Like, I would cry if I burnt my hand in the kitchen, which, well, I’m a chef, so that happens all the time and we’re literally trained to withstand it. Or I’d cry at what was on TV, not just the movie or whatever, but the adverts too. Since everything happened I haven’t cried once. I think it’s just …’
‘Go on,’ said Christina.
‘Life can be overwhelming, can’t it?’
‘It can.’
‘And I think I have been really, really overwhelmed. And not very good at asking for help. And feeling bad for needing help, which is a real head-spin. I felt better after talking to you, even that first time.’
‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ Christina said, writing something down on her clipboard.
‘And I did what you asked. I thought about what I want and I’m scared of the answer but more than anything it’s a baby. So.’
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve been talking to my sister.’
‘And how does that make you feel?’
Penny smiled. In theory she could have these conversations with a friend or her uncle, but in reality it was the very fact that Christina had never met any of the people Penny talked about that made it so easy to be honest.
‘It makes me really excited,’ Penny said. ‘Like I am actually taking charge of my future, and that I deserve to.’
‘You do deserve to.’
‘I don’t think I have believed that. I think literally ever since the cancer I’ve let things happen to me. Maybe even before then. Even becoming a chef happened to me. I stumbled into it.’
‘I don’t think that is unusual. Many people prefer to be passive in their happiness because it feels safer.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Penny. ‘I don’t want to be like that.’
‘Well the good news is,’ said Christina, ‘I don’t think you are. Not anymore.’