El stands with Will in her father’s bedroom, steeling herself for the task ahead. She’s aware that Will is waiting for her to take the lead, not wanting to rush in. She’s really enjoyed their day, driving him around, showing him the beauties and the mysteries of the moor: steep-sided river valleys, high stony tors with unexpected glimpses of the distant sea, a dry-stone wall that looked like granite lace against the blue sky. The day was warm and sunny, and she was delighted by his reaction to this place she loves so much. He didn’t exclaim or enthuse but paid it the true compliment of silent contemplation.
They had lunch at the Warren Inn, drove back with a diversion around Burrator Reservoir, and then home. At first she dithered, emptying the dishwasher, checking what they might have for supper, until Will simply said: ‘Shall we just get on with it? Then we’ll be able to relax.’
She nodded. He was right. Gathering up some black plastic bags they went downstairs and into Pa’s bedroom.
Now, Will is still waiting and, making up her mind, El steps forward and swings open the cupboard doors.
‘I made a start,’ she said, ‘but I lost my nerve, and when you said you’d come down I put everything back so as to get the room ready for you.’
Will nods. He stands looking into the wardrobe and then down at her.
‘How do you want to play it?’ he asks. ‘Shall I bring everything out and lay it on the bed and then you make decisions?’
She nods, trying to imagine what Pa would say if he knew that Will was here, handling his clothes, but she’s too near to tears to put it off any longer. Will begins to slide the clothes out, laying them gently across the bed, working quickly along the rail whilst she smooths and folds the shirts and trousers, making a neat pile.
‘There’s no point,’ she says, trying to sound calm, sensible, ‘in keeping anything. Pa wasn’t very tall, not as tall as Freddie. I asked him, of course. Freddie, I mean. But he didn’t want any of these things. He’s taken what he wants. Books. A painting…’
She rambles on whilst Will works silently beside her, folding, filling the bags. Soon the wardrobe is empty and El opens the top drawers. Inside, Pa’s socks are rolled into neat balls, brown, navy, dark green. She stares at them, picks one up, thinks about him putting it there, not dreaming what lay ahead, and wants to burst into tears. Gently, Will moves her to one side.
‘Shall I do this?’ he asks.
She nods, and with the same deft movements he empties the drawer, then opens the next and the next, and works quickly through them. El stands beside the bed, fingering this garment and that, before putting them into the bags. Soon the small drawers are empty and Will starts on a chest, which is full of jerseys.
‘I’ve kept a couple of his jerseys for myself,’ El tells Will, determined to sound calm. ‘He didn’t care much about clothes. Books were his thing. So I’m keeping all those.’
Will works quickly and efficiently but he is respectful with Pa’s things, always ready to pause if El needs time to consider. Gradually the drawers and cupboards are cleared and the room is stacked with black plastic bags. El stares at them despondently.
‘I’ll take them to Tavistock in the morning,’ she says reluctantly but gratefully. ‘To one of the charity shops.’
‘I was just wondering,’ Will says quickly, ‘how you’d feel if I took them.’
El stares at him in astonishment. ‘You? Why would you do that?’
‘I know a very good hospice shop. Our local hospice was just great to my mum at the end and I’d really like to do that, unless you feel the same about a charity here, of course.’
She remembers that his mother died of cancer when he was still a boy of twelve and this time she can’t prevent the tears. He puts an arm around her, holds her tightly for a moment then lets her go.
‘Life’s shit,’ he says. ‘Look, I’ll get all this stuff into my car and then we’ll have a drink. I think we deserve one, don’t you?’
She nods and they take the bags out of the bedroom, into the hall, and she stacks them beside the back door whilst Will unlocks his car, opens the boot, and makes space. The bags soon fill it up and the rest he piles on to the back seat.
El goes into the bedroom and looks around her. Only Will’s things remain, apart from the books in the bookcase. She comes out again and then sees Pa’s coats hanging on the hooks in the utility room. His Wellington boots stand underneath, beside his walking shoes, and she hesitates. Instinctively she decides against giving the coats to Will. These she will keep a little longer. She touches Pa’s navy-blue fleece gilet and then takes it down and tries it on, hugging it around her, feeling its softness. She closes her eyes, squeezing back tears as she remembers him wearing it, knowing that she can’t bear to part with it. It’s only a little too big for her and she puts her hands in its pockets, thinking that it would fit quite well over a big jersey on a cold day. Her right hand encounters something smooth, oblong, hard, and she brings the object out. It’s Pa’s mobile phone. She stares at it, remembering how she looked for it just after he died and then forgot about it. Will is coming back. Quickly she shrugs herself out of the gilet, hangs it back on the peg and hurries into her bedroom. She puts the phone in a drawer and then goes out to meet him.
‘All done?’ she asks. ‘That’s amazing. Shall we have that drink, then? What would you like?’
She leads the way upstairs, realizing that she knows so little about him, and yet he’s just helped her through one of the most important and difficult things in her life so far. As she pours him a gin and tonic El decides to tell him about the job at Book Stop; how she’s hoping they will take her on part time. Will is impressed that she’s got off to such a promising start and asks questions about the shop, what hours she’d be working. Warmed by his interest and enthusiasm, she expands, showing him her CV, telling him about her previous work experience while he lights the wood burner. She finds it hard to believe how easy it is to be in his company, remembering all those years of coolness and avoidance. She also remembers her mother’s insistence – after she met Christian – that Will is gay, and El wonders if this is why there is no constraint affecting them. Anyway, it’s not important. Just at the moment she’s grateful for his kindness, his company and his empathy. He knows what it’s like: the shock, the loneliness, the grief.
‘Who’s your neighbour?’ he asks as they sit down to supper. ‘I see there’s another cottage the other side of that little orchard. Who lives there?’
‘The farmer’s son, Andy.’ she tells him. ‘He works on the farm and his wife’s just had a baby. They’re great. Very down to earth and fun. They’ve been really sweet since Pa died, and I have to admit that knowing they’re there was quite a big part of giving me the confidence to move down. Secretly, it’s all a bit scary.’
Will raises his glass to her. ‘It’s a big step but it’s definitely worth giving it a go.’
She smiles back at him, thinking how nice he is and rather regretting all these years of animosity.
‘I know you said you could manage twenty-four hours,’ she says. ‘Does that mean an early start tomorrow?’
He nods. ‘Straight after breakfast, if that’s OK, but maybe…’ He hesitates, embarrassed, and she steps quickly into the silence.
‘But you’ll come again, won’t you?’ she asks, casually. ‘I’d like to show you Tavistock. You must see the Pannier Market. And you haven’t begun to get to know the moor yet.’
‘Can’t resist an offer like that,’ he says.
As they finish supper she wonders whether to mention Christian but decides against it. Remembering how Will fell asleep this morning after his night flight and then his drive down, she wonders if he’s tired and decides to aim for a fairly early night. Will makes no protest and she watches him go downstairs, then begins to tidy up. Suddenly she feels exhausted. It’s been such a huge thing, clearing Pa’s clothes, and she guesses that tomorrow, once Will has gone, the reality will hit her. El sighs, follows Will downstairs, goes into her bedroom and closes the door.
As Will drives away the next morning he wonders if El really believed his little fiction about the charity shop or if she was simply relieved to have the problem totally removed from her. After all, she knows he now lives in a village west of Bristol, near the airport, whilst his mother died upcountry. Probably she wasn’t thinking straight, and he’s glad he was able to take from her the task of delivering the bags to a charity shop in Tavistock.
He turns up on to the moor, getting his bearings, looking out for landmarks that they’d driven past yesterday. It’s another golden day and he drives carefully, watching out for sheep and ponies, whilst trying to take in the immensity of the landscape. He passes the Two Bridges Hotel and turns left on the road towards Moretonhampstead, determined to take a more direct route than the sat nav showed him on the way down. And all the while, he’s remembering the old stone cross, trying to place its whereabouts in his mind and looking out for it. He’d half wondered about mentioning it to El, but couldn’t quite bring himself to talk about it. His experience there was still just a little too raw.
He’s hoping to find it, to walk out to it again, yet a part of his mind warns him against disappointment. He’s had his moment, his feeling of release; it’s not the kind of thing that happens twice. He can see now how foolish he was to hold El and Freddie at such a distance for so long, but it was so hard for Will not to see his father’s remarriage as a betrayal of his mother. His father took a long while to let go of his memories of her, and no attempt was made to clear away some of her belongings for several years. This gave Will the feeling that there was plenty of time to find special keepsakes, photos, and then he’d come home from flying school for the Easter holidays to find almost every trace of his mother erased, and suddenly Felicity was in their lives.
He’s driving slowly now, remembering and watching for the cross. It occurs to him that El is not much changed from the girl that came into his life five years ago. He remembers that Felicity used to nag at her to lose weight, embarrassing her at those family gatherings he made such efforts to avoid. Will always admired El’s dogged refusal to be separated from her father and he’s impressed with her determination to make a success of her new life. She’s such a pretty girl, so interesting and amusing, and he’s glad that at last they can be friends.
Will wonders what Freddie might think of this new friendship and whether he minds that he, Will, has been clearing out his father’s things. No doubt if Freddie had wanted to do it there would have been no question of El needing Will’s help. There has never been any antagonism from Freddie; he is too placatory, too peace-loving to make trouble. Both he and Will simply avoided any confrontation. They had no desire to be brothers.
Suddenly, from nowhere, comes a memory. Eleanor marching up to him at a Christmas party, holding up some mistletoe and kissing him firmly on the lips. Will can remember how instinctively he jerked away from the contact. Somehow, weirdly, they were supposed to be stepbrother and -sister, and he was horrified at how her mother might react. Luckily nobody noticed and El, overcome with embarrassment, fled away to her room. Remembering, Will laughs aloud. Perhaps it was her way of completely repudiating the relationship in the only way she knew how, and now he rather wishes that he hadn’t reacted so brutally.
As he passes the Warren Inn, where he and El had lunch yesterday, and drives across the moor he sees the cross standing just off the road on his right. Its blunt twisted shape is diminished in the vast bleak landscape and, slowing as he approaches, Will is almost relieved to see that the small parking space has three cars in it. Their owners are not there – probably out on the moor walking – but he decides not to stop. It won’t be the same on this bright sunny morning. The atmosphere will be different. Glancing in his driving mirror, he pulls into the side and brakes, reaches for his phone and takes a photograph of the cross.
A car is approaching. Will lets it pass, lays his phone on the passenger seat and then accelerates away.
‘I’ll be back,’ he says.
It’s a promise.