A few mornings later, I board the bus in Sunnybrook, deep in thought.
Since the day we got back from school to find Jaxon in the flat, we haven’t seen or heard from him at all - and every day, I relax a little more.
I’m even starting to hope that maybe getting tough with him and telling him to phone first before just entering the flat with his own key has had a positive effect. Maybe he didn’t realise how uncomfortable it would make me, and now he’s behaving like a normal landlord should.
I’m so lost in thought, I’m startled when someone calls my name.
‘It’s Molly, isn’t it?’
Looking over, I recognise Bertha’s arch enemy, Iris Swanson, sitting ramrod straight in a seat near the back of the bus. She’s looking immaculately turned out, as usual, in her belted raincoat and a glimpse of blue Chanel suit beneath this time. Her butter-soft tan leather handbag that I always admire is perched on her knee.
‘Mrs Swanson. Nice to see you.’ I slip into the seat beside her, breathing in a faint waft of lily-of-the-valley. ‘Off to the café?’
‘I am indeed. I suppose I’m a creature of habit. I’m up with the lark to read or work on my latest dress-making project, then I like to treat myself to breakfast at the Brambleberry Manor Café before returning to Sunnybrook for a little walk along the high street, then returning home for my soup lunch.’
‘Do you live in Sunnybrook?’
‘I do. At the Evergreen Retirement Village.’
‘Oh, yes. I’ve seen pictures. It looks lovely there.’
A hint of sadness flits across her face. Then she smiles. ‘Yes, it suits me very well. I have a lovely apartment overlooking a lake. It’s small but it’s all I need. And of course there are activities to take part in…if you so wish.’
I nod. The way she says it makes me think that she probably isn’t the sort to join in much. ‘I expect your family love to come and visit, if you’re living in a beautiful place like that!’
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’
Too late, I remember Fen saying that Iris’s daughter rarely visits, and I could bite my tongue off. The conversation stalls and we both stare politely out of the window.
Then she turns and smiles. ‘I had my granddaughter to stay for a night the week after Christmas and she brought her baby, little Joe.’ She shakes her head, remembering. ‘What a little scamp, crawling and into everything! But he’s utterly adorable.’ Her eyes light up for the first time as she talks about them. ‘It was quite a crush in my one-bedroom apartment but that didn’t matter. Not for one night.’
‘So you have children?’
She nods. ‘A daughter. Annabel. She has a very important job working in the finance sector in Aberdeen. She’s married to her work, really, just as I was. She can’t even get time off at Christmas. I worked as PA to a company director in London until I retired five years ago, and I keep telling Annabel that the job really isn’t everything – that she should socialise more and take some holidays, come down here for a break – but…’ She shrugs. ‘Will she listen? Of course not. I’m just her mother.’ She laughs. ‘And I can’t really preach to her, can I? Since I chose exactly the same sort of lifestyle myself when I was her age. All work and no play! Annabel was at a child-minder’s from the age of four months so I could get straight back to work.’
‘You must have enjoyed your job, though. To be so committed.’
‘Oh, I did.’ She stares out over the passing fields, as if she’s thinking of something sad. ‘Yes, I did. For a long time.’
She sighs and turns back to me with a smile. ‘Still, it gave me my lovely apartment and my view of the lake.’
I nod. ‘It sounds gorgeous.’
She nods. ‘And of course, Chloe and little Joe live not too far away. East Sussex. The vexing thing is that I can’t drive and neither can she, and she’s renting a little cottage right out in the sticks that’s absolutely impossible to get to on this terrible public transport system of ours.’ She sighs. ‘I think she feels cut off from everything.’
I smile in sympathy, feeling her despair.
I get the feeling Chloe isn’t the only one to feel isolated…
*****
When we arrive at the café together, I find myself feeling quite relieved that it’s Bertha’s day off today. Having heard bits of Iris’s life story, I’m feeling quite a bit of empathy towards her. It can’t have been easy, losing the man she loved to Bertha.
She doesn’t seem to have married, and it sounds like work took precedence over all other romantic relationships – a fact Iris seems to regret now. She obviously had her daughter but then circumstances meant she brought up Annabel up on her own. Was that Iris’s choice? Or did the man decide he didn’t want to be involved? If so, I can well understand her despair…
Perhaps she just never found another man who could quite match up to Ron.
*****
A large party of Women’s Institute members arrives at the café around lunchtime, and they’re obviously here with the purpose of making pledges, which brings a little excitement to the day.
There’s obviously a big run on lemon drizzle cake, and after they’ve gone, we all cluster round to read their pledges.
‘Do you really think they’ll actually do what they’ve pledged?’ asks Patrina, clearly doubting it. ‘Weren’t they just here for the free cake?’
I frown at her. ‘That’s such a cynical thing to say. I happen to believe that the majority of people are lovely, and when presented with this idea, they’ll come up with a genuine pledge and actually carry it out.’
Hope nods. ‘I agree, Molly. And even if they don’t carry it out – because they’ve forgotten or for whatever reason – it actually doesn’t matter. Because the idea of kindness is out there.’
The café remains fairly busy, the pledge board filling up, and then late in the afternoon Fen arrives with Jaz, followed by Katja and her grandmother, Olga.
Fen takes in the customers scattered at four or five tables. ‘Looking fairly good. And the board’s slowly filling up,’ she notes, gravitating over there. ‘Are they all genuine?’
Hope nods. ‘Mostly. We got one teenage joker pledging to duff up his science teacher as a kindness to his mates, but we took it down.’
Fen grimaces. ‘What had the poor teacher done to deserve that?’
‘Piled on the homework probably. He was guffawing as he was writing it, so I think it was a joke. I told him violence was never the answer and he eyeballed me solemnly and said, “You’ve never met Clank-the-Wank”.’ Her mouth twitches.
Fen snorts. Then she forces a straight face. ‘Shouldn’t laugh.’
‘Who is this Clanker Wanker? Is he manager?’ Katja’s grandma wants to know. ‘I confess I will never get used to the names people are called here. I met man called Dandruff! Would you believe? I say, no, no, no, you joke with me. No man is called Dandruff.’
‘Gran, he was called Dan Duff,’ says Katja, enunciating carefully. ‘The grocery delivery man? I think he was a bit surprised you wanted to know his name and his life history.’