As did Lila.
She knew that.
It didn’t help though when she was trying to pull herself together enough to actually get some work done.
Work. Yes. It had to be done and soon.
Wallowing like this served no one. Her little business that she’d treated like a baby for some time was floundering and neglected. She had money to live on, including some of her inheritance that was in a high interest ISA, and Ben had signed his share of the cottage over to her because she’d paid the deposit and, Lila suspected, because he felt guilty. She had offered to buy him out but instead he’d taken the money from their joint savings account, a considerable sum, and Lila hadn’t pushed him to take more. She’d been angry and hurt and it had made her more ruthless than she’d have been otherwise. She suspected that Ben had been surprised, and might even have expected her to try to persuade him to take more, but she hadn’t, and so he’d walked away financially worse off than he could have been.
Lila also had some money that Ben had no idea about, that she’d squirrelled away for when she became a mum, and though she hated the thought of spending that, she would do so if her situation became desperate. However, it would be better if she could start earning again, rebuild her business and have a reason to get up in the mornings.
In the lounge, she sat on the sofa and her eyes fell on her crochet basket. She’d loved to crochet and had made lots of lovely gifts for friends in the past and some for herself, from cute animals to Christmas tree ornaments, and toys for the cats. What if she opened the basket and took a look inside? Just to see what was in there, of course. No pressure. No strain. Just a look.
She leant forwards and pulled the basket closer then opened the lid. As she lifted out the pink leather purse that contained her crochet hooks, a flicker of excitement stirred inside her and a flame was lit. She could crochet some animals. But what first? What would people want to buy?
An image filled her mind and her lips curved upwards.
Yes, of course. That would be just perfect.
‘What’s with all the secrecy?’ Roxie asked as Lila led her through to the kitchen, holding a hand over Roxie’s eyes.
‘I have a surprise for you and I want you to see it all in one go.’
‘Okay…’ Roxie’s eyelids fluttered as Lila withdrew her hand.
‘Ready?’
‘Ready!’
‘Open your eyes!’
Roxie blinked then gasped.
‘Oh my goodness, Lila! You have been busy.’
Lila nodded, pride filling her as Roxie hurried over to the kitchen table to take a closer look.
‘You did all this in a week?’ Roxie asked.
‘I did. After you’d gone, it was dreadfully quiet here the next day and I started thinking about what I could make to keep busy.’
‘Greyhounds seemed like the right choice?’ Roxie nodded.
‘Yes. Going to the charity shop inspired me to make some. I created my own pattern then made them in lots of different colours.’
‘I’ve got to admit I’ve never seen a pink greyhound or a blue one before.’ Roxie picked up one of the crocheted toys and moved its long legs back and forth, a big smile on her face. ‘They’re just gorgeous, Lila. You’re so clever.’
‘Thank you.’ Lila released a breath of relief. She’d made twenty of the wool dogs since last week, using up all the different colours of wool she had in her basket and topping up with a few balls from the local wool shop. As each one was finished, she added it to the pack on the kitchen table and soon she could clearly see the fruits of her labours. After the first three, she’d known the pattern off by heart and had been able to crochet as she watched TV or listened to the radio. It passed the time and kept her occupied. It had also inspired her to create other animals to sell online and she thought she’d be able to make them to order too. She intended on donating some of the greyhounds to the charity shop, hoping that they would raise money to help the rescue dogs. After all, they had been her inspiration.
‘What time is Joanne coming over?’ Roxie sat a greyhound up on the table with its legs splayed so it wouldn’t fall over.
‘She should be here soon then we can eat.’
‘What are you cooking? It smells delicious.’ Roxie made a show of sniffing the air and approached the Aga.
‘Salmon and asparagus quiche.’
‘Ooh!’ Roxie clapped her hands. ‘That does sound wonderful. Anything I can do?’
‘There’s wine in the fridge so you can open that if you don’t mind and I’ll put a salad together.’
‘Sounds like a great plan.’ Roxie went to the fridge and located the wine while Lila washed the salad leaves under the tap then set them to drain, all the time her heart fluttering with happiness at Roxie’s reaction to the crocheted greyhounds.
Ethan felt like he was fifteen again, doing his paper round as he walked around the village delivering leaflets. He’d already been stopped three times by elderly locals keen to grab him for a conversation and one old lady had recognised him as Freda’s son and insisted he go in for a cup of tea and a slice of cake. He’d stayed for over an hour, realising that the lady was lonely and enjoying having company. When she’d started to lead him around her home, showing him possible jobs that needed doing, he realised he could end up working there for months. He’d eventually left her when the familiar music of a well-known TV soap started and she rushed to her chair to watch the drama unfold, but not before she’d pressed a foil-wrapped slice of cake in his hand and made him promise to come back soon.
The air had grown cold as he’d walked the streets, posting his colourful leaflets through doors, thinking of the stew his mother was making for tea. He was looking forward to eating it and spending the evening with his mother. It was funny how simple things like that could be so enjoyable when you reached your thirties, because as a younger man, he’d have laughed at the idea of an evening at home being something to anticipate. Now he was glad of the company and home comforts.
When he’d completed his delivery around the village, he turned back to walk home, already dreaming of the warmth he’d find there in terms of food and love. He just needed to post the last of the leaflets on Sunflower Street and then he’d be home.
Lila was sitting at the table with Joanne and Roxie. They all had goblets of wine and full plates.
‘Cheers my dears!’ Roxie held up her glass. ‘To friends like us.’
‘Cheers.’
They all clinked glasses then drank.
‘This wine is delicious, Lila.’ Joanne picked up the bottle. ‘Where did you get it?’
‘It’s from the local vineyard.’ Lila smiled. ‘I popped into their shop last week and bought a few bottles.’
‘Really?’ Joanne frowned. ‘I know that new owners took over last year but I thought they only stocked wine at supermarkets. I didn’t realise they had their own shop.’
‘I saw the sign when I was driving past so thought I’d take a look. Perhaps they realised that selling locally could be a good thing too.’ Lila sipped her wine. It really was delicious, floral and fruity, not too sweet or too dry.