Pastures New

‘Can I go in the garden?’ Josh had just twigged that there was more to his new home than just four walls.

‘Of course,’ said Amy, smiling to banish her gloomy thoughts. ‘Let’s get our coats and have an explore.’

Despite it being only early September, there was already an autumnal chill in the air, and the impression of summer being over was further enhanced by the smell of bonfires. The leaves weren’t quite turning yellow, but it wouldn’t be long. Amy shivered as she watched Josh running wild in their new garden. A pang of longing shot unexpectedly through her, and tears came to her eyes.

‘Why are you crying, Mummy?’ A little hand came and found hers.

‘I was just thinking about how much Daddy would have liked it here,’ Amy said. She had always been open with Josh about everything, despite Mary’s feeling that children should be protected from too much heartache.

Josh looked at her thoughtfully.

‘But if Daddy’s in heaven, he can see where we are, and he’ll like it too,’ he replied.

‘Out of the mouths of babes,’ said Amy, laughing through her tears.

Josh looked at her puzzled, but Amy just smiled at him.

‘It’s all right, Josh, you’ve just managed to cheer me up. Come on, let’s go and get some tea.’

The next morning, Amy wasn’t feeling quite so sanguine. She had had a lousy night’s sleep on her landlady’s rather lumpy double bed. Josh had had a nightmare, and ended up in bed with her. It was a while since he’d done that. When he had been very little, just after Jamie had died, he’d come in with her every night, but she had gradually weaned him off it. Maybe the move had unsettled him again. Oh lord, was she doing the right thing?

Amy had lain in bed worrying about that – and whether she had irrevocably offended Mary. She didn’t want to cut the ties completely – just loosen them a little. Was that so very wrong? What would Jamie have done in her shoes? She was still learning to appreciate that one of the worst aspects of her situation was making decisions alone, and realising there was no way she could truly know what Jamie would have thought.

She turned over, determined to get some sleep, but then her mind went into overdrive about money. Her demons were back and running amok. Money. Her overriding preoccupation since Jamie’s death. She had thought they were reasonably well off. She had thought they’d made adequate provision. But the idea of either of them dying had seemed so remote that they had never got round to doing the obvious stuff. It had always felt as though there would be plenty of time for that.

If only she and Jamie had got married, or written a will, as they always intended. Everything would have been so much more straightforward. But they hadn’t, so the taxman had come to claim both his share of the computer business Jamie had run with his partner, Giles, and their property. Added to which, Amy hadn’t appreciated how much debt the business itself was in – or how difficult it would be to sell Jamie’s share of it. It had taken all this time to sort it out.

Amy had survived by carrying on teaching, until Grace’s money had solved her problems. And now that she had sold the flat as well, things would be easier. She planned to settle in before buying somewhere, but at least she could think about buying a house in Suffolk. Although maybe she should have consolidated a bit, before taking the plunge to move and start a new career. She had enough to tide her over for the next few months, and supply-teaching at schools would help … but would it be enough?

The thoughts swirled round in her head. Nights were always a bad time for Amy. The demons couldn’t be as easily dispatched as during the day. And the suffocating blackness of her new room, with its thick velvet curtains, didn’t help either. She was used to having a neon streetlight outside her window and found total darkness oppressive.

She turned on the light. Grabbing a book usually helped – something light and funny, like Terry Pratchett, was a must. Gradually the feelings of panic subsided, and her heart stopped racing at a rate of knots. She read, and eventually fell asleep, head propped against her pillow, the light still on.

Amy spent the morning unpacking. She felt as if she had been hit over the head with a brick. As usual after a bad night, her thoughts were muzzy and unfocused. She had managed to find Josh’s train set and set it up in the front room, along with snacks and a pile of DVDs, just to keep him occupied while she got on with trying to create some semblance of normality.

She dug out a radio, which she switched on in the kitchen. It was pre-tuned to Radio 2. Amy had grown up thinking Radio 2 was the preserve of sad middle-aged people far removed from the cutting edge of life, until Jamie had made her listen to it one Saturday lunchtime. ‘Honestly, they play really good music on Radio 2,’ he had promised her. And to Amy’s surprise, he was right. Not only were the DJs highly entertaining, the music was great, and after that she and Jamie had often tuned in together. After he had died, she had listened to the radio obsessively – as if in some strange way it still linked them. She woke up to Wogan’s gentle warblings, and dipped in and out all day. Radio 2 was an essential part of her now – a soundtrack to her life, now she no longer had one.

Sunday-morning love songs was on. Sometimes Amy found all the people ringing in with messages for their loved ones too painful for words, but of late she’d found it comforting to know that not everyone was as lonely as she was, and it was easy listening as she started shoving books onto shelves. As the room slowly got cleared up, and things began to fall into place, Amy started to feel better again, and she gradually felt that she was getting things under control.

‘And this is for Bev Peters, who’s away at uni, and missing her boyfriend Colin very much,’ Steve Wright was saying, before Amy heard the first haunting bars of a familiar tune.

She paused in the middle of her new living room. She felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. That song – how many years ago was it? In the early days of their relationship, Amy had still been at teacher-training college, and they had spent a year apart. Jamie had compiled a tape of ‘their’ songs, which she had played endlessly, missing him so much it had hurt. Her favourite track on it had been ‘Forever Autumn’ – at the time it seemed to sum up the way she felt. How could she have known that her feelings then would be a pale shadow of the real thing – of what it was like knowing that she would never see Jamie again? The song could have been written for her, and seemed cruelly apposite now. It was all gone. Everything. The only good thing left was Josh. All the rest was dust.

‘Anyone home?’ There was a knock at the side door that led to the garden, and Amy pulled herself together. Her life might be over, but she still had Josh, and she had to make a go of this, for his sake.

A tall elderly man was standing on the doorstep bearing a pot with a geranium in it and holding a plastic bag with some shopping in. She remembered him as the man she had seen pushing the wheelbarrow on the day she had come to look round.

‘Hello,’ said Amy, with something like relief. In the early days she had found any social interaction excruciatingly difficult, but now, having to put on a show of politeness was a welcome distraction from her misery. ‘Can I help you?’

‘Good morning,’ the man said. ‘I’m Harry Hartswood, your neighbour. I just popped over to see if you needed anything, and to bring you this.’ He proffered the geranium.

‘Thanks,’ said Amy, taking it. ‘I’m Amy Nicolson. Can I make you a cup of tea?’

‘That would be lovely, my dear,’ said Harry. ‘I don’t suppose you have had time to get to the shops yet. I’ve brought a few provisions.’

‘That is extremely kind of you,’ said Amy, touched at his thoughtfulness. ‘It’s on my “to do” list. Sorry about the mess, I’m still unpacking.’

‘Mummy, who is it?’ Josh flew out to see what was going on, then hid behind Amy’s legs when he realised it was a stranger.

‘This is Mr Hartswood,’ said Amy. ‘He lives next door.’

‘He’s very old,’ said Josh, peeking out from behind her.

‘Josh!’ Amy was scandalised, but Harry just laughed.

‘Yes, I am,’ he said. ‘But then, you are very young. So everyone must be old to you.’

Josh looked at him quizzically for a minute, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a train set,’ he announced. ‘Would you like to see it?’

‘I’m sure Mr Hartswood doesn’t want to be bothered with your train set,’ began Amy, but her neighbour would hear none of it.

‘That sounds wonderful, Josh, I’d love to,’ he said, letting himself be led by the hand into the front room, ‘and everyone calls me Harry.’

When Amy returned with the tea, she discovered the pair of them playing happily on the floor.

‘I can see you’re going to be a favoured guest,’ she said. ‘Mummy is normally too busy to play trains.’

‘Ah, well, that’s Mummy’s prerogative,’ said Harry. ‘And my pleasure.’

‘You’re very good with him,’ Amy said, watching how naturally Josh played. Josh didn’t warm to everyone, and it was rare for him to latch on to a stranger like this. ‘Do you have grandchildren?’

‘No.’ Harry’s smile was tinged with sadness. ‘Unfortunately, my wife and I weren’t able to have children.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy.

‘No need to be, my dear,’ said Harry. ‘We had a happy and full life together.’

Amy, who had acquired an instinct for picking up on these things since Jamie’s death, asked, ‘Had?’

‘My wife died a few years ago,’ said Harry, a shadow passing across his face.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Amy again, and meant it. She felt an immediate kinship with this man, stranger though he was, and yet, even though she shared his grief, it was still hard to know what to say. ‘You must get very lonely.’

‘Well, sometimes,’ said Harry. ‘But I have my army reunions, and lots of friends here. And there’s a great deal of support to be found on the allotments, as I’m sure you will discover. I survive somewhat better than everyone had predicted.’

‘I shall have to take lessons from you in being positive,’ replied Amy. ‘Jamie, my …’ – she was going to say partner, and then paused, wondering whether Harry would approve of her unmarried status – ‘Josh’s dad died two and a half years ago, and this is a big move for me.’

‘Oh my dear, how very sad for you,’ sympathised Harry.

Amy felt herself dissolve into floods of tears. She couldn’t do this. She just couldn’t. It was a dreadful mistake. There was no way she was going to manage on her own. That song was right. Her life would always be autumn now – because Jamie wasn’t there, and however much she longed for him, he never could be again.

CHAPTER THREE

Amy took a deep breath, and tried to get a grip. This was mortifying. Here she was blubbing in front of a total stranger. Luckily, once she and Harry had got chatting, Josh pronounced the conversation ‘Grown up, boring’, and disappeared upstairs.

‘Oh I am sorry.’ Harry patted Amy awkwardly on the back. ‘I didn’t mean to distress you.’

He proffered a hankie, which Amy accepted gratefully.

‘You haven’t,’ said Amy. ‘I’m just being silly.’

‘It’s not silly at all,’ answered Harry, ‘but quite natural.’ His gentle concern brought fresh tears to Amy’s eyes, but she managed a watery smile.

‘I’m not usually like this,’ Amy said. ‘I think it’s just with the move and everything … I suddenly feel so alone.’

‘And however many friends you have, once you shut that door at night, you’re on your own.’ Harry nodded sympathetically. ‘It is very hard, but it will get better, in time.’

‘Will it? I keep thinking it’s going to, but then, like now, I feel I’ve gone back to square one again. I feel I’m never going to stop wanting him back.’

‘You probably won’t.’ Harry’s response was simple. ‘I think about my Mavis every day, but I am still alive, and although it isn’t the life we had, it is the life I have now. You’re still young, Amy, you have Josh. You have a lot to live for. Do you think Jamie would want you to be mourning him forever?’

‘No, definitely not,’ said Amy. ‘But I don’t know. It sounds so corny. What we had was amazing. I doubt I’ll ever find it again.’

‘You might not,’ said Harry. ‘But you must make it your business to learn to be happy again. You won’t ever stop missing him, but that doesn’t mean you can’t smile sometimes.’

Amy felt her spirits lift a little. It was so wonderful to have someone who understood – so often people she knew were embarrassed and awkward and shied away from talking about how she was. Or they assumed that after all this time, she would be over it – like you got over the flu. Or, worse still, some of their so-called friends had dropped her altogether. It was as if she had some nasty disease that might be catching. There was even the faint suggestion from one or two girlfriends, to whom she had thought she was close, that somehow she was now likely to make a play for their husbands.

They had no idea of what was really going through her head – or, more importantly, her heart. So Amy had learned to smile and hide her pain so that no one knew it was there any longer. It was a relief to talk to someone who was so refreshingly direct about it.

‘You’re absolutely right, of course,’ said Amy. ‘It’s not always easy to be so positive, though.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Harry. ‘And believe you me, I still have my dark nights of the soul. But I just grit my teeth and try to get through them. There is always another dawn. Now, I’m afraid I really must be going, as I’m off to lunch with some friends. Please feel free to pop in at any time. I’m usually about.’

‘Thanks, Harry, I might just do that,’ said Amy. ‘You’ve been very kind.’

‘Ah well, I just like to be neighbourly,’ said Harry. ‘Mavis would have had my guts for garters if I wasn’t.’

Amy laughed and saw Harry to the door, just as Josh came flying down demanding to be fed. One thing about children was their needs always had to come first. And sometimes, when life threatened to become overwhelming, that was a very good thing.

Saffron was running late, as usual. Matt and Becky were being so slow this morning, and Ellie had kept her up all night. Added to which, she had made the mistake of stopping to listen to Wogan’s musings on the subject of mums driving 4x4s. She had been laughing so much she had forgotten the time. It was only Monday, and they were going to be late. Bugger, how did she always manage that?

‘Kids, hurry up,’ she called as she loaded Ellie into the buggy.

The trouble was that the children were still exhausted from Florida, so getting them up this morning had been a complete nightmare. She had so much on her plate at the moment, the last thing she needed was the kids being late for school.

Her other major headache – how to regain the trust of her clients and rebuild the business – was also not going away, despite her and Pete’s best efforts. But he was right to point out that she couldn’t do it alone, and while he was immensely supportive, he couldn’t run the business for her. But who on earth was she going to find to help her out? None of her mum friends were into gardening. Perhaps she should do as Pete had suggested and advertise. Thank God, at least, for Pete. He had been so fantastic, she had to hold on to that. Gerry would have given her no encouragement at all.

What were the children doing? She had sent them upstairs ten minutes ago, to brush their teeth, and they had disappeared.

‘Children, come downstairs NOW! We’re going to be late,’ Saffron yelled up the stairs, picking up assorted PE kits and book bags as she did so.

‘Do you really need to shout that loud first thing?’ Pete was halfway down the stairs still doing his tie. Their relationship was still new enough for Saffron’s heart to skip a beat when she saw him. Pete looked gorgeous even though his hair was all mussed up and he looked half-asleep. Still adjusting to this parenting lark, he hadn’t quite got to grips with sleepless nights.

‘If I didn’t shout, we’d never get anywhere,’ said Saffron, giving him a kiss. After the misery of her marriage to Gerry, she still had to pinch herself to believe that she could have been so lucky as to have found Pete, even with the permanent weight lodged in the pit of her stomach about their lack of sex life.

As if by magic, two pairs of feet thundered down the stairs, and Becky and Matt presented themselves to her, both blaming the other for their tardiness.

‘Not interested,’ grumbled Saffron. ‘Come on, we’ve got to go – now!’ Kissing Pete goodbye again, she hauled coats on and shoved the children out of the door. If they ran, there was an outside chance they could make it.

As she approached the corner of her road, opposite the little country churchyard she cut through every day on the way to school, she spotted another pair of latecomers hurrying up the road that ran at right-angles to her own. It was a woman she didn’t recognise and a little boy about Matt’s age. The woman looked a bit perplexed, as if she weren’t quite sure of the way.

Saffron smiled as they met at the corner to cross over – in the three years she had been walking to school with Becky she had discovered that the children didn’t moan so much if they had a friend to walk with. As she had only recently managed to prise Matt from the buggy (the arrival of Ellie had been the key turning point, and four months later he was still sore about it), Saffron hoped that finding a friend on the walk to school might prove to be a help.

‘Hi,’ said Saffron as they waited to cross the road. ‘This your first day?’

‘Yup.’ The stranger smiled. ‘Josh and I only moved here on Saturday. And despite poring over maps all weekend, I think I’m a bit lost.’

‘Follow me,’ said Saffron. ‘We cut through the graveyard every day. The school’s at the bottom of the hill on the other side, about five minutes from the high street.’

‘Great,’ said the stranger with a grateful smile. She was pretty, thought Saffron – and also, she noted jealously, incredibly thin.

‘I’m Saffron Cairns, by the way, and this is Becky and Matt. Matt’s starting in Miss Burrows’ class today.’

‘Amy Nicolson,’ said Amy. ‘Josh is in Miss Burrows’ class too.’

‘Matt, that’s nice,’ said Saffron. ‘Josh is going to be in your class.’

Matt and Josh both appeared completely uninterested in this stunning piece of news, although they quickly bonded by running in and out of the gravestones. Amy laughed and said, ‘Oh well, I’m very pleased to meet you at any rate. I don’t know a soul around here. Apart from my neighbour, Harry.’

‘Harry Hartswood?’ Understanding dawned in Saffron’s eyes. Harry had mentioned someone had just moved in next door.

‘Yes, do you know him?’ Amy was surprised. In her busy street in North London no one knew anyone else much. Not one of her neighbours had called round after Jamie had died, and whenever she needed help round the house she’d always had to resort to the Yellow Pages.

‘Oh yes, everyone knows Harry. He’s an institution, particularly on the allotments. Though I’d avoid his elderberry wine if I were you – it’s lethal. You must be Caroline’s new tenant.’

‘If she’s the Caroline whose name is plastered all over my tenancy agreements, then yes,’ said Amy. ‘Blimey, does everyone know everyone else round here?’

‘Sure do,’ said Saffron with a grin. ‘Actually, I should know Caroline. She’s my business partner. You’re never more well than when you’re in Nevermorewell, so they say, but it’s the kind of place where if you sneeze at the top of the high street you’re dying of pneumonia by the time you reach the bottom.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Amy, laughing, and finding to her surprise that they were nearly at the school gates.

‘I’ll have to love you and leave you here, I’m afraid,’ said Saffron. ‘Becky’s starting in the Juniors today, and I’ve just got to find out where she needs to go. All change this year. Do you know your way round?’

‘I think so. I’ll be fine,’ said Amy. ‘It’s been lovely to meet you.’

‘Well I’m sure we’ll catch up again,’ said Saffron. ‘Particularly if the boys are in the same class. Perhaps when you’re more settled we can do coffee?’

‘Coffee sounds great,’ said Amy, and headed off with Josh. Maybe making friends around here wouldn’t be so difficult, she thought.

Saturday morning found Amy playing plumbers. It had been a very busy week, and she had barely paused for breath. She had had several forays into the centre of Nevermorewell, where she had discovered a fine butcher’s and baker’s, a greengrocer’s, a couple of takeaways, an Italian restaurant, and a few of the usual high-street shops. On her trip on Thursday, Amy had been delighted to see the whole high street was shut to traffic for the farmers’ market. There were two rows of stalls running the entire length of the street, selling everything from organic veg to homemade honey. The market had been so well-attended, Amy had counted herself lucky to make it back with bags of fresh produce, a free-range chicken and some homemade bread.

Nevermorewell boasted two decent-looking pubs – the Plough at one end of the high street, and the Magpie at the other. Not that Amy had much time or inclination to go into pubs, but they might be worth investigating for Sunday lunches. According to Saffron, whom she had seen a couple of times that week on the way to school, the Magpie was quite family friendly.

Amy had also discovered the library and the town hall, where she had managed to find the number of the local education authority and register for supply teaching. Luckily she wasn’t desperate, so she could afford a couple of weeks off to sort herself out. She had also signed up at the doctor’s and the dentist’s, which were in the same location, a smart new purpose-built building, just off the high street. All in all, despite a couple of terse conversations with Mary on the phone, and a niggling angst about Josh, who had cried every morning when leaving for school, she had been too busy so far to feel gloomy.

Her only real headache was that ever since they’d arrived in the house the bathroom tap had been dripping and driving her mad. So today, with Josh safely ensconced in front of the TV watching Thunderbirds, and armed with a spanner and some washers, she had decided to take the bull by the horns and reseat the taps. She had seen Jamie doing it a dozen times. It couldn’t be too difficult, could it?

Apparently, it could. For a start, the taps were so corroded it took ages to unscrew them, and then when she applied the spanner to the original washer it just sheared off and pinged in the sink, promptly followed by a jet of water.

‘Sod! Sod and double sod!’ Amy shrieked as water spewed everywhere. She had forgotten to turn the water off at the mains.

‘It’s a bit wet, Mummy.’ The lure of the TV was evidently not enough to prevent Josh from finding out why Mummy was standing knee-deep in water and wailing like a banshee.

‘I know, darling,’ said Amy between gritted teeth. ‘Could you just pass me that bucket, please?’

Josh passed it to her and she placed it under the flood while she frantically looked around for something to plug up the hole. Ignoring Josh’s pleas to be allowed to play with the water, she eventually found a flannel, which she stuffed down as far as it would go. It seemed to work as a temporary fix. She ran into the kitchen, and after a few false starts managed to locate the mains tap and turn the water off, and then returned to survey the damage.