“I know you’re scared of seeing Ruth,” Martha said. “You’re scared of feeling things you think you can’t handle, but you can handle them, Kathleen. You’ve handled so much already. And if you don’t do this, you might regret it.”
“I will not. I make a point of never looking back.”
“But this isn’t looking back. It’s looking forward. You and Ruth will be building something new.”
“I’m eighty. It’s a little late to be building something new.”
Martha raised her eyebrows. “This from someone who drove two thousand four hundred miles across America? If it’s not too late for that type of adventure, how can it be too late to call on a friend?”
“She’s a stranger, Martha. I haven’t seen her for almost sixty years so don’t romanticize the relationship.”
“You had a deep and special friendship. That kind of bond doesn’t go away.”
“Your generation are so emotional.” Kathleen fiddled with the strap of her bag, kneading it, twisting it. “Fine, let’s do it. It will be a disaster, and then I will take great pleasure in firing you.”
Martha smiled. “If it goes badly, you’ll need me as the getaway driver.”
“If I’m relying on your driving skills to escape then we’re all doomed.” What should she do? Martha was right, of course. She was terrified. Seeing Ruth could rip open everything. “In case we have a major falling out, I should probably give you this now.” She leaned down and retrieved the parcel she’d tucked into the car a few days earlier. “It’s a thank-you.”
“A thank-you for what?”
“For not singing even when you were bursting to do so. For humoring a cantankerous old lady on the trip of a lifetime. For being the best company. And for smiling even when you were terrified.” She saw Martha’s eyes fill and waved a hand. “No! No crying.”
Martha brushed her hand over her eyes and opened the box Kathleen had handed her.
“Oh Kathleen—” She lifted the teapot out of the box and stared at it in wonder. “It’s perfect. Where did you find this?”
“I am fortunate in having well-connected friends who can make things happen.” She sent silent thanks to Liza who had sourced it, and Finn who had navigated the astonishing complexities of transportation.
“Red cherries.” Martha sounded choked. “It’s exactly like the one Nanna had.”
“Your grandmother would be proud of you, Martha.”
“I’ll treasure it. I’m never going to use it.”
“That would be a pity. A teapot is designed to hold tea, just as a human being is designed to live life no matter how hard it seems at times.” She felt her voice waver, and knew that Martha heard it too. Kathleen saw her glance at Josh.
“Could you go for a walk? We’re five minutes early, anyway.”
“Early for what? We’re having tea, not watching the opera.” Kathleen’s fingers were white on the bag. The moment had come, and she couldn’t delay it any longer. “And why does Josh need to walk anywhere? Given that I’m already in possession of far too much detail regarding the extraordinary regeneration of your sex life, I can’t imagine any conversation that would require his absence.”
Martha turned back to her. “I know you’re anxious, but there really are only two outcomes here. One is that you no longer have any bond with Ruth, you find her boring and we leave after a very painful cup of tea.”
“Tea can’t be painful unless you spill it shortly after pouring.”
Martha ignored her. “Two, you bond as you did the first time you met and can’t stop talking. Then you have the best afternoon you’ve had in a while. That’s the one I vote for.”
“A third outcome is that the meeting rips open a part of my life I left in the past for good reason.”
“How can it?” Martha’s tone was gentle. “You’re not going to regret your decision, Kathleen. You wouldn’t want to turn the clock back, even if you could. You know that. Because of what happened, you had an amazing career.”
“You know how much I dislike the word amazing. It conveys nothing.”
“It conveys amazingness,” Martha continued unrepentant, “and your career was amazing.”
“It’s true,” Josh said. “It was.”
Martha nodded. “If you’d married Adam he would have driven you crazy.”
Kathleen wrinkled her nose. “Crazy is another word I dislike. Could we aim for more descriptive language? Have I taught you nothing over the past few weeks?”
“You’ve taught me persistence.” Martha leaned forward. “If you’d stayed together, you would have wanted to kill Adam. Think about those articles we read. I’m sure he was very eminent, but he probably had an overinflated ego. Maybe he wouldn’t have liked you being a big star. Maybe you wouldn’t have been able to travel the world. Maybe The Summer Seekers never would have happened.”
“I’m not sure there is evidence to support that.” Kathleen brushed nonexistent fluff from her skirt. “You could be right. I wouldn’t have described him as supportive when I expressed certain ambitions.”
“But Brian was. Wait a minute—” Martha grabbed her phone and fiddled for a moment before thrusting it in Kathleen’s face. “There’s Brian when you received that big award in London. Presenter of the Year or whatever it was called.”
Kathleen felt her eyes mist. Oh Brian. “I have no idea why you are showing me this.”
“Look at his face! What do you see? Pride. Joy. And so much love. I’d give anything for a man to look at me that way just once.”
“Perhaps if you wore something other than jeans—”
“We’re talking about you, Kathleen. And Brian, who you loved as much as he loved you. He was not second best. He wasn’t your consolation prize. Wasn’t that what you said to me when we pulled up at Devil’s Elbow? A good relationship doesn’t need a miracle. All it needs is the right person at the right time. Which is a whole lot harder than it sounds, actually, but that’s not relevant right now.”
“I used the word require, not need.”
“Same thing.”
“Actually it’s—”
“Kathleen!”
“Give me a moment.” Kathleen closed her eyes, and thought of Brian. His patience. His ability to always make her laugh. The way they’d argued about the best way to mark a place in the book. Their love of the sea. Their home. Their daughter.