chapter thirteen

 

Guernsey 2011

 

‘Fiona! It’s good to see you, come in.’ Stuart hugged her before ushering her inside. ‘I’m so sorry about Nigel, what an awful thing to happen. We’re all gutted.’

She nodded, hardly trusting herself to respond. When people said how sorry they were, it made it more real, reminded her of her loss. Stuart was a nice guy, though, and Fiona sensed he felt awkward, too.

‘Natalie’s in the kitchen, and I’m leaving you girls in peace. I’ve been given a huge shopping list and told not to come back until I’ve bought everything or I’m in trouble.’ He rolled his eyes in mock fear before dashing out of the door.

Natalie’s head appeared round the kitchen door.

‘Thought I heard you arrive. How are you?’ She flung her arms around her and Fiona succumbed to the warm embrace of her friend.

‘Coping. Being well looked after by Louisa and Paul, as you can imagine.’

Natalie released her, and Fiona saw the compassion in her huge blue eyes.

‘Lovely couple, aren’t they? And so well matched,’ Natalie said, switching on the kettle. ‘Coffee okay? Or something stronger?’ She tilted her head towards a bottle of wine on the counter.

‘Coffee’s fine, thanks.’ Fiona looked around the smart, streamlined kitchen. ‘It was in here, wasn’t it? Where your ghost appeared.’

Spooning coffee into the cafetiére, Natalie hesitated. ‘Sort of. I didn’t see him until much later on when Reverend Ayres was here, but before that objects got moved or thrown about and I heard his voice.’ She shuddered. ‘Really creepy. And sometimes my kitchen “disappeared”, replaced with one from the war.’ Natalie poured in hot water before turning, with a grin, to Fiona. ‘It’s history now but wasn’t a great experience at the time. And it blew Stuart away! He couldn’t get a handle on it initially, but now he’s cool about it, and I think it’s brought us closer. Moving here meant I became caught up in his family’s history, creating a bond.’

Fiona nodded. ‘I can understand that.’

Natalie handed her a mug of coffee.

‘Let’s go into the garden, get some sun on our faces. And you can tell me all about your own experience.’

Once settled on the patio, Fiona told her about seeing Nigel and even having a brief conversation.

‘Must have been so weird for you. Are you going to try and connect again?’ Natalie asked, sipping her coffee.

‘Yes. I want to learn more about what happened to him. But talking, and taking a…form seem to drain his energy.’

‘Well, I don’t know if this will work for you, but my other “ghost”, Olive, somehow got into my head and I learnt her story through my dreams. It was as if I was her somehow.’ Natalie grimaced. ‘Pretty awful, some of it. But she was desperate for me to know what happened and managed to connect with me, even though we weren’t related. We just shared this house. But with you and Nigel being twins, perhaps he could “talk” to you silently, like a voice in your head.’

‘You’re right. We were almost telepathic at times, in fact, I sensed something was wrong at about the time he must have died. But didn’t realise how…how bad it was.’ A lump formed in her throat as she wondered, again, if Nigel had been trying to reach her. There was nothing she could have done from England, but it didn’t stop the guilt.

Natalie squeezed her arm. ‘You see what I mean? I didn’t ask Olive to get inside my head, but you hardly need to ask Nigel. When you’re in bed, ready to sleep, try focusing on him. Less traumatic for you both than him trying to appear in spirit.’

‘You’re right, it would be, but something is comforting in actually seeing him again. Though I know it can’t last.’ Her hands gripped the mug in her frustration. She would make one more attempt to connect with Nigel in the shop, and if it didn’t happen, she’d follow Natalie’s advice, she decided. Glancing up at her friend, she forced a smile. ‘Enough of me, you can show me around your super garden. The spring flowers look fab.’

 

That evening Fiona drove to the shop, ostensibly to check on Ken’s first day, but mainly to see if Nigel would make an appearance. She was pleased to see Ken had dusted and rearranged some of the smaller items in the window. Always a good idea to refresh the display, Nigel used to say.

In the office all was tidy, and she found a note addressed to herself – Ken had presumably expected her to check up on him. He said, apart from some obvious curiosity seekers, keen to see if Fiona would be present, there had also been genuine buyers, and he’d made some good sales, as per his list. It seemed that a tragedy brought out the best as well as the worst in people, she thought grimly. Many had wanted him to pass on their condolences to her.

Once she was satisfied all looked in order, Fiona settled in the office chair and called Nigel’s name. Nothing. She tried twice more and gave up. Maybe Nigel sensed that someone else had been manning the shop that day and this had put him off. Disappointed, she went back to Icart.

 

A slight breeze blew along the cliffs the next morning, and Paul and Louisa suggested they went for a brisk walk before lunch. This suited Fiona, needing to escape her obsession with contacting Nigel. They struck out towards Petit Bot Bay with the plan to return for lunch at Saint’s Bay Hotel, handily situated opposite their house. The scent of wild garlic hung in the air as they walked and gulls dived from the cliffs, constantly looking for food. Fiona gulped in the heady sea air.

‘Natalie had a point when she suggested I tried to contact Nigel when I’m relaxed or about to sleep. But I can’t relax! My head’s constantly buzzing and I can’t let go. Would you help me, Paul? You have a magic touch.’

He fell into step beside her as Louisa led the way.

‘Of course, pleased to help. I do sense a huge amount of tension in you, not surprising. Perhaps later, just before bedtime. But you will have to let him go sometime, Fiona. He needs to move on, just like you.’ His voice was gentle, but the words hit her hard. She knew he was right, but that didn’t mean she was happy about severing the link between them. Nodding mutely, she increased her pace to join Louisa, as if by doing so she was delaying the inevitable.

 

Paul was as good as his word and later that evening eased her into a meditative state, simply by holding her hands as he talked to her. It was as if he was drawing all the tension and upset from her, leaving behind a calmness Fiona rarely felt. She went to bed keen to focus on Nigel, silently seeking a connection. She had an awareness of him, but it was through a fog, and if he spoke she couldn’t hear the words. She must have drifted asleep as the next thing she knew, Louisa was knocking on the door with a cup of tea. Disappointed, she resolved to keep trying.