Clive Podmore took his morning walk up the steep cliff path to their favourite spot overlooking the bay where the outline of Crete shimmered in the sunshine. For September it was a fine day for a brisk walk up to the little Agios Nikolaos chapel, which was cut into the rock. There was a bench outside where the pilgrims could catch their breath before it was time to pray and light candles. Here he could chat to Lucy. It had been a favourite pausing point on their honeymoon all those years ago when they had fallen in love with the music of the birds and the crashing waves.
‘They’ve asked me to join a choir, Lucy. What do you think? Last time I sang was at your funeral. That hymn you chose just about choked me. I vowed then never to sing again, but Simon Bartlett called in and insisted I back him up in the bass department. Simon’s been such a brick dragging me out to things, but it’s not the same being among couples who give me that look. You know – the one that says, “Don’t remind me that one day I might be alone like you.” They mean kindly, inviting me to suppers and out for walks, but without you it’s not the same. How could it be after forty years? Jeremy wants me to come home for Christmas but I’m not leaving you here alone.’
Clive sat back smiling. He was sure she’d be listening out there somewhere. After nearly two years he still felt raw at her passing. Bloody cancer! It had been so sudden and inoperable. She’d faded before his eyes, his beautiful beloved wife.
The villa was empty without her, but seeing everything just as she’d left it was comforting. When he opened the front door, her coat was still on the hook, her dressing-table full of sun lotions and face creams, but the scent of her was fading. Laundry and cleaning lifted the fleeting smells that brought her back to him. It was hard to remove anything that reminded him of their life together. Last Christmas he had shut himself away to watch family videos and write Christmas cards from her list. He’d barely stepped out of the door, despite invitations for drinks and a picnic on the beach.
They had had plans for the garden and for trips all over Greece when they’d retired to St Nick’s ten years ago. He’d left his law practice early. Clive was still youngish and fit but now it was as if all the stuffing had been knocked out of him. He felt like an empty shell whose only purpose was living for Bella, his dog. He had thought of ending it all but sensed Lucy would call him a coward for taking the easy way out. In any case, Bella was always at his side. They must just carry on together.
A marriage didn’t end when one partner died. There was a great bank of memories to draw comfort from. He tried to keep busy by attending Greek lessons and ordering a good supply of non-fiction to read. There was even a local bereavement group, but he wasn’t going to sit down and share his feelings with anyone. His grief was a private matter.
As he walked past the cemetery set apart from the village, he paid his morning call to Lucy’s gravestone to check the flowers. He disliked the plastic ornaments that decorated the white catafalques, the family tombs with photographs enclosed in little shrines with candles burning. It was all very Greek. All he had put on the headstone was: Here lies Lucy Jane Podmore, who loved this place. There was space for his own name to be added. Father Dennis, the vicar who had a little Anglican chapel in his garden, was kind. Only the other day he’d popped in to see Clive. He was joining the choir, so that made four of them. Dennis was a good pastor. Clive couldn’t bear to go into the little church, but Dennis wasn’t offended. ‘Grieving is a funny thing,’ he’d said. ‘There’s no end to it, but sometimes finding another companion in life can take the edge off a loss.’
No one would ever replace Lucy in Clive’s heart, but joining the choir might be worthwhile. He loved carols, especially the more ancient ones. He and Lucy had joined the choral society at university to sing Messiah and St John Passion. Not that Ariadne Blunt’s collection of conscripts would rise to those dizzy heights, but it would be in a good cause and at least it would kill some time.