Page 30 of The House at Hope Corner
Hannah sank to her knees, grabbing the broken pieces of the bowl before frantically trying to salvage the mess. Miraculously, one egg was still intact and she scooped it from the floor, gently cupping the yolk in her palm so that it nestled there as she sought desperately to keep the stringy egg-white from slipping through her fingers. Her gaze met Flora’s and in that instant, through Hannah’s eyes, it was Fraser’s heart she saw, cradled in Hannah’s hand, his life blood seeping away as she clutched frantically to save it.
The next second Flora was beside her, sunk to her knees in the devastation around them, clutching at Hannah, who was sobbing Fraser’s name over and over again. The two of them rocked back and forth as Hannah finally released the pain and fear she had been holding tight to her for days.
‘Don’t leave me, Fraser,’ she whispered. ‘Oh, God, don’t leave me.’
Flora’s own face ran with tears and she offered up a silent prayer. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Fraser would be two hours in to his operation by now.
It took at least fifteen minutes before Flora even thought about moving from the floor. Her eyes had been shut tight as she clung onto Ned’s mother, letting the storm of Hannah’s tears slowly subside until she was spent. There was egg stuck to her tights, her hands, even in her hair. It was sticky and slippery both at the same time, and the sensation made Flora want to heave. She looked down to find she too was covered in it and suddenly, more than anything, she wanted to get it off her. Panic rose in her throat as she gagged, sucking in air as fast as she could to try to calm her breathing. She picked a spot on the wall and tried to focus on it.Everything is going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.
She felt a tentative lick on her hand, and looked up to see Brodie’s questioning look, his eyes warm and soft on hers. The old boy was worried too. She pulled him closer and his tail gave a soft thump as he wriggled against her, seeking his own reassurance. They must have looked quite a sight, huddled on the floor together. She kissed the dog’s head, realising that he too had been out of sorts over the last few days.
‘Come on, boy,’ said Flora, as Brodie continue to lick at her hand, realising then that there were spoils to be had on the floor. It broke the spell and at last she and Hannah were able to get to their feet, where they looked at one another one more time before a final warm embrace marked the end of whatever had just happened.
Flora looked down at the floor. ‘Perhaps we should have had cereal, after all?’ she suggested, a flicker of a smile pulling on her lips as the absurdity of the situation suddenly hit her.
Hannah looked up, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘I’ve just remembered… You don’t even like eggs!’ And then she burst out laughing.
The two women looked at one another for a moment, Hannah’s laughter subsiding to a warm smile. ‘Oh, Flora… How on earth are we going to get through the day?’
Flora squinted at the window. ‘Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m sorry, I don’t think I can stay inside. I need to be where there are trees, plants, that kind of thing…’ She broke off, wondering whether what she wanted to say next would sound stupid.
‘Go on,’ said Hannah, spotting her hesitation.
‘It sounds a bit… kooky… but I always feel morehopefulwhen I’m out in the garden. More alive…’
Hannah nodded. ‘So what do you suggest?’ she asked. ‘If it’s okay with you, I think I’d like to be outside too. You’re right, it does feel like what we should do.’
‘Well, Brodie would like a walk… and there are still eggs to take to the village, but apart from that, well, I wondered – if it was all right with you – whether I could use the greenhouse, to plant some seeds?’
‘Seeds?’ She cocked her head at Flora. ‘I don’t mind in the slightest – as a matter of fact, it would be good to see the greenhouse being used again – but what kind of seeds?’
Flora hesitated. ‘I brought them with me actually,’ she admitted. ‘Which sounds a bit presumptuous, I know, but they’re flower seeds… Ned told me you had a big garden, you see, and back in Birmingham I only had a flat, so no garden of my own. I’ve always wanted to plant masses of flowers…’
‘A florist wanting to plant flowers, I’ve never heard anything like it,’ said Hannah with eyebrows raised in amusement. ‘I think that’s a lovely idea. We mainly have lots of shrubs, as I’m sure you’ve spotted, flowering ones granted, and the roses here are beautiful, but apart from the spring bulbs, very few flowers… I’m not entirely sure why.’
‘Too much bother, I expect,’ replied Flora. ‘I mean, they’re not really, but you do have to pander to them a bit to get the best out of them. I don’t suppose you’ve ever really had the time. But your gardens are lovely, just the same.’
Hannah stared wistfully out of the window. ‘You should see Grace’s garden, full of flowers; now thatisbeautiful. Colour everywhere and in summer, the smell… oh, there’s really nothing like it.’
‘Grace?’ queried Flora. ‘Grace from the village shop?’
Hannah nodded. ‘Yes, she lives next door.’
‘Does she…? Well, I never knew that. But by next door I guess you mean about three miles away?’
Hannah smiled. ‘Not quite…’ She turned in the other direction and pointed towards the field beyond the garden. ‘Just over the rise. Her house is on the hill, actually, but you can’t quite see it from here. She has the most amazing views.’
‘Strange. She never mentioned that we’re neighbours even though she knows I live here.’ She frowned.
‘Grace is a very private person,’ replied Hannah. She leant a little closer. ‘Her husband is, well… rather well known, and she doesn’t like everyone to know. They do know of course, but that’s not the point.’
‘What do you mean by rather well known?’ asked Flora. ‘Is he a notorious criminal or something?’ she joked.
Hannah gave her a searching look. ‘You’re not far off the truth actually… Not a criminal, no, but what in our day we would have called a scoundrel.’ She lowered her voice. ‘Chases anything in a skirt,’ she added. ‘Catches most of them too…’
‘Oh.’ Flora’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Poor Grace… And everybody around here knows that, do they? That must be awful for her.’
‘Which is why she rarely talks about herself, at least until you get to know her well. Of course what doesn’t help is that her husband is Paul Maynard – you know, the one from the telly. Does all those quiz shows and documentaries.’
