46

Sally heard Roger’s key in the lock, a sound normally accompanied by scrambling paws and deep, excited woofs. ‘I’m in the sitting room,’ she called. He entered but neither of them spoke, each waiting for the other. It was Roger who found his voice first.

‘Sally. I’m so grateful you’re home.’

‘I’m not home, Rog. I’m just back for a short time. To tie up ends with you and go to Marina’s cremation.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes. And you?’ He nodded. ‘Roger. About Finnegan. I already know.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I’ve been staying at Waldringhythe Abbey. I’m going to work there as a counsellor, but don’t cross-question me. I don’t want to talk about it. Andrew Gibson rang Father Ewan about Tim. He mentioned it, and obviously Father Ewan passed on the bad news. I’m devastated. Poor Finnegan. What happened?’ Her eyes blinked tears and she held a hand over her jaw.

‘It was all my fault. I left the front door open. I’m so sorry.’

‘No blame, love. No hair shirt. You had a lot on your mind.’

‘I buried him in the, er… in the ashes on the lawn.’

‘Yes. I saw the mound. I’m sorry I burnt your clothes, but I was angry.’

‘You’d every right to be.’

‘I’m not angry any more. I accept everything. Can we still be friends?’

‘After what we’ve been to each other, Sal, friends seems a strange word.’

‘But we’re not in love any more. How can we be anything more than friends? We can stay fond of each other, but we must give all our energies to our future lives.’

‘I suppose. But surely we can have a hug for Finnegan’s sake?’

‘Of course.’

Sally rose, moved to Roger and they embraced. How strange he felt. The familiarity of his girth and height was not forgotten, but the man she now desired was leaner and finer-boned. Her arms around Roger were too stretched, he was too solid and it felt wrong. Their awkwardness was obvious, and they drew apart. The first brick laid onto the mortar of their permanent estrangement. They both sat down.

‘How are things? With Tim, I mean. He’s in a bad way, isn’t he?’

‘Things are suddenly better. Much better. A miracle, really. A complete return to normal, thank God. Did that priest McEwan tell you he was coming down to see him this evening?’

‘Yes he did.’

‘Well he isn’t needed now. Can you contact him and cancel?’

‘I can’t, Rog. I’ve no idea of his mobile number, but surely he can still see Tim and at least have some sort of a chat? He was coming down tonight, anyway. He has to bless some of Marina’s effects and attend her cremation.’

Roger sighed, loudly and deeply. ‘With the greatest of respect to the chap, he isn’t wanted now. I don’t want him interfering in case he stirs up Tim’s anxiety again.’

‘But he’s a superb practitioner.’

‘Sorry, Sal. Everyone says he’s the cat’s pyjamas, but…’

‘Then when he arrives at The Manor will you give him directions to come here? I’m putting him up for the night.’

‘That’s sweet of you. I suppose he’s your sort of employer now.’

‘Yes. Waldringhythe will be my home. Hopefully for a long time.’

‘Are you positive about selling up?’

‘Yes. Soon as possible. You will arrange the deeds of transfer, won’t you?’

‘’Course. The house is yours with my blessing.’

‘Thank you, Roger. Thank you for your generosity. I intend to buy Louise a flat, by the way. She won’t be homeless.’

‘We must talk about Louise.’

‘Rog, she has to fight her own way through the maze of our mess. It won’t be easy for her, but it’s the way it’s got to be. We must behave like grownups. Don’t throw blame. Give each other a good and respectable press. Be tolerant of her anger. Make sure she knows we love her.’

‘I’ll do my very best, I promise.’ Roger breathed evenly and smiled at Sally with kindness. ‘You’re lovely, Sal. I’ll really miss you. I hope you’ll be happy.’

‘I am happy. Very happy’

‘You look it. Abnormally so. Is there someone else in your life?’

‘Yes, there is.’

‘I see. Will he look after you, this man?’

‘The relationship is very new, but I hope one day…’

‘But you’re in love?’

‘Yes. It’s good that we’re both in love. It helps to equalise things.’

Roger then looked at his watch. ‘Oh, Lord. Look, I’m really sorry but I’ve got to go. I’ve just remembered the Proudfoot’s parish priest is coming over to poke his nose in. The man’s a confounded nuisance and I must deflect him. All I want to do is get tomorrow over. After that, I’ve decided I’m going to take Tim away. Somewhere warm so we can really laze up and relax. Barbados, I thought.’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow at the crem then, Rog. Do we go back to The Manor afterwards, or what?’

Roger groaned. ‘Fuck! I was going to book the taproom at The Dog and Duck. Oh, well. I suppose we can take vox pop that we mosey back there anyway.’

‘Shall we talk here afterwards?

‘We’d better. After that, who knows when we’ll see each other again? I hope your new thing – the new man in your life works out.’

‘So do I.’

‘Anything else we should talk about now?’

‘Not really.’

‘Best be off, then. Tim sends his love. Genuinely.’

‘And give my love to Tim. I mean it too. I’m glad he’s better.’

‘Bye, then.’

‘Bye, love.’

Roger made to go, but turned back. ‘It was good, wasn’t it? Most of it.’

‘All of it was good, Rog. All of it. Treasured bonds. Nothing can break them.’

‘You are happy, aren’t you?’

‘Blissfully. After rain, flowers grow.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘Bye, Rog.’

‘Bye, Sal.’