‘So you think I need counselling as well as everyone else?’ he asked. He respected Sal’s opinion greatly as a mate as well as a workmate.
‘Yep. I do. We need the old Pete back. This one looks like Pete . . .’ she flicked the back of her hand into his chest ‘. . . but it’s been like waiting for thin ice to crack.’
He hadn’t realised he’d done such a rubbish job of trying to show the world he could cope. That Sal had been carrying the card around with her for weeks to give to him was information he didn’t want to acknowledge.
‘Okay, I promise then, I’ll ring her,’ said Pete, slotting the card in his jeans pocket. ‘For you.’
‘No, Pete, for you,’ said Sal, giving his shoulder a thump which spoke of more affection than any hug she could administer.
Chapter 8
28 August
‘Peter, I presume, do come in,’ said Molly. Her delight was evident, he’d made it, acknowledged the courage it had taken for him to open the door. ‘Come and have a coffee and some cake and take a seat.’
Pete raised his hand. ‘Hi’ he said, reminding himself of a native American Indian in an old cowboy film saying, ‘How’. He felt his heart beating a ridiculous tattoo in his chest. He knew it wasn’t walking into a room full of people that was throwing his body into panic, it was because he didn’t want to lay his suit of armour on the welcome mat, like a pair of shoes. Admitting he was one of them, needing help, jarred with his pride.
He didn’t want a slice of cake, didn’t think he had the saliva to help him swallow it as his mouth was as dry as powdered cement, but he took a slice, and a coffee, played the game. He sat next to the woman with the silver-blonde plait who looked more the same age as him than anyone else there.
‘Welcome to our new people, Laurie and Pete,’ said Molly, smiling, nodding to them each in turn and Pete realised the woman at his side must be a fellow newbie; maybe that’s why he was drawn to sit beside her. ‘Shall we make some introductions – who wants to start?’
‘I will,’ said Maurice, which heartened Molly. He really had come out of his shell since he’d been here. It was amazing how much of an effect kindness had on people, instilling them with confidence. Life hadn’t been that kind to Maurice; neither had his mother whom he had cared for since he was old enough to unscrew the lid on a bottle of tablets, and yet he’d taken her passing very hard.
‘My name’s Maurice and I’m a bookkeeper. I don’t mean that I keep books, basically I add things up.’ He smiled, hoping his little joke impressed. Laurie smiled back encouragingly and Molly noted that. Her observational skills had sharpened with age, more so since she had decided to plough her energies into this little club. ‘I lost my mum last year,’ Maurice continued. ‘She was an invalid and I can’t remember a time before I was looking after her. She took advantage, I know that, but I did love her and I do miss her. I have all this life now, this freedom and I don’t know what to do with it. So that’s me in a nutshell.’
‘I’ll go next,’ said the thin woman with springy copper hair. ‘I’m Yvonne, housewife . . . well house widow now, I suppose. I was married at sixteen and I lost my husband in June. The doctor thought it might be a good idea if I found a good counsellor because I can’t grieve. I haven’t cried once. I know it’s not normal and I’m expecting it’ll catch up with me and I’ll fall to bits, so the sooner it happens the better. Okay?’ She gave the newcomers a wide smile then gave Sharon a nudge. ‘You next, love.’
‘Well I’m Sharon and I’m a cleaner,’ she began. ‘My dog died, which I know isn’t the same as losing a partner or a parent but I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved him. And I miss him so much.’ She pulled a photo out of her bag of a black mongrel with soulful eyes. ‘Billy. He was only seven. I know he’s just a dog . . .’
Maurice made noises of protest. ‘Nothing you love is ever “just a”,’ he said. ‘I had a hamster when I was a boy. I cried for months when he died. And I was very attached to Mother’s budgerigar Whistle, but sadly he passed the week after she did. I popped him in with Mum, I think she would have liked that.’
Laurie coughed, feeling obliged to leap in with her own contribution, become a fully paid-up member of them, even though the sessions were free. ‘I’ve got a goldfish. My fiancé and I won him at a fair a few years ago and I think I’d be gutted if anything happened to him.’
‘I’ve got a Siamese cat called Pong,’ put in Pete, feeling the need to add himself to them all, in the way that people at charity auctions felt obliged to put in a low bid so they could relax for a while, knowing they’d done their bit. The name Pong made everyone laugh. ‘I love him nearly as much as I love my twin brother, even if he’s a taker rather than a giver. That’s cats for you.’
Sharon felt heartened by that; she always worried that if anyone new came to the group they’d think she was a fraud for taking up the place of someone missing another human being, so it was nice that these younger people were both animal lovers. And Molly felt gladdened that the newbies had joined straight in with small gifts of themselves. She sensed a good, caring vibe from them. She was rarely wrong these days.
‘I always think that animals give merely by being there,’ said Maurice. ‘I’ll be quite honest, I didn’t get much affection from Hammy, my hamster, when I was a boy but just from giving it to him, I received a lot of comfort.’ He dropped a heavy sigh. ‘I was going through a patch at school where I was being bullied and playing with Hammy gave my head somewhere nice and simple to go.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Sharon. ‘Bullies are awful. I once lamped a bully at my school. She didn’t think I’d dare because I was littler than her, but she got a shock. And a bloody nose.’
Maurice and Yvonne chuckled.
‘Good for you. Even worms turn,’ said Maurice, adding quickly, ‘Not that I’m saying you’re a worm, Sharon. Far from it.’
‘She never bothered me again. For a little worm, I had a temper when I’d reached the end of my limit.’
Molly herded the conversation away from worms and addressed the two newcomers. ‘If you want to leave it a while before telling us your story, that’s fine with us,’ she said.
‘I don’t mind,’ said Laurie, thinking that she ought to take Alan’s advice and ‘jump in’, otherwise what was the point of being here. ‘My name is Laurie, I’m a solicitor. I lost my fiancé a few months ago.’ Her hand unconsciously strayed to the necklace she wore with the small ring threaded through it, seeking strength. ‘I’ve been stuck, I can’t seem to move forward. Alex died very suddenly and I haven’t been able to clear the shock. I’m not close to my own family and I feel as if I don’t want to burden my friends . . .’ She tailed off but saw people nodding as they listened, especially the man who had come in after her, the man with the shining grey eyes.
‘I think it’s better to talk to strangers sometimes,’ said Yvonne. ‘My daughter Lola idolised her dad, she thinks I’m heartless because I’m managing quite easily to get on with things. I think she wants me to dress in black, close the curtains and marinade in gloom like Des’s mother did when his father died.’