A December to Remember (44)
“What do you have to feel guilty about?” she asked.
“Being away at uni, and not wanting to come back here to live after I’ve got my degree. I’m moaning at you for being distant when I’m planning to desert my family.”
“Your mum doesn’t expect you to spend your whole life in Rowan Thorp,” Star said, laughing. “She wants you to get out in the world and build a life for yourself, independently of her. Trust me, you’re not deserting her; all she’s ever wanted is to give you the tools so you can set out on your own. I’m not saying she won’t miss you, but she’d be devastated if she thought you hadn’t pursued your dreams because you were worried she needed a babysitter.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because that’s exactly what she said to us when we were your age,” said Simone.
“Big sister wisdom with no psychology degree,” Star added.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you.” Patrick trained his bright green eyes on Simone. “Mum and Verity are all I’ve got, you know, they’re the only properly solid things in my life. Everyone else is just, well, transient.”
Wow, that stung. Would she want her children to feel that their family was transient?
“Okay, that’s not good,” she began. “How about this? We”—she looked at Star before carrying on—“we will try to use this enforced time we’ve been given to build some new bridges between our family. And that way we’ll always have a path back to each other.”
“I’d like that.” Patrick smiled tentatively. “Can I ask you something?”
Star and Simone nodded.
“Has Mum said to you she’s worried about anything? Other than Christmas, work, and the whole organize-a-massive-festival-in-record-time thing? I feel like she’s even more stressed than normal.”
Star, who found it impossible to lie convincingly, bit her lip and looked wide-eyed at Simone. It wasn’t their place to tell Patrick about the eviction but equally his asking about his mum made things awkward when they knew that losing the greengrocer’s and the flat above was foremost in Maggie’s mind.
“We will keep a close eye on your mum.” Simone used her best comfort voice, the one she used on her patients. “Don’t worry.”
* * *
They left Betty’s with takeaway coffees and a lot to think about.
“You know, you should go into politics; you did a great job of not actually answering Patrick’s question.” Star nudged Simone gently.
“Politics would be a breeze compared to this family.”
20
“Oooee!” Sonja Moorhen—chairwoman of the Rowan Thorp Historical Society—pushed her way into the greengrocer’s, her arms full of books. As a historian, her to-be-read pile was never-ending, and she always appeared to be carrying some of it with her.
The weather seemed to have decided today was the day to really get winter started and had taken great pains to slather the whole village with ice. Now, at half past four in the afternoon, it was beginning to add another frosty layer, and Sonja was taking no chances dressed as she was in full arctic attire, including padded trousers.
Maggie’s shop was light and airy, with exposed brick walls, a bright white ceiling between the black beams, and a cobblestone floor. Floor-to-ceiling Georgian kitchen dressers lined the walls. The topmost shelves housed vestiges of the shop’s history—old weighing scales, weights, earthenware jars and pots—while the rest were lined with bowls and baskets of fresh produce. At the bottom, the cupboards were left open to reveal sacks of potatoes and deep wicker baskets full of root vegetables, artfully arranged to look as though they were spilling out of the cupboards and lending the place a sense of abundance. Bunches of bay, rosemary, and curry leaves hung from drying racks, while tenderer herbs ballooned out from tall jugs on the sideboards. The only warmth came from a small fan heater, which Maggie used to defrost her hands at regular intervals.
Maggie was refilling the stock. The sudden drop in temperature had inspired half the village to make vegetable soup. She was piling parsnips into a wooden display crate while Joe was serving the last customer from the latest rush.
“Afternoon, Sonja! Making soup?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Is that grocer’s intuition?” She handed Maggie a list.
“Something like that.”
“I’m not only here for shopping. I’ve been looking through my great-grandmother’s almanac and journals about the winter solstice.”
“Oh?” Maggie checked the list and filled Sonja’s cotton tote accordingly.
“As part of the lead-up to the season, they would fill the trees with edible decorations for the birds and wildlife; lard and seed pomanders, dried fruit slices on strings, that sort of thing. It’s all part of honoring the land, looking after nature so that nature will look after you. Is that helpful?”
“It is, thank you, Sonja. What a lovely idea.” Her mind was suddenly whirring with possibilities. This could be the sisters’ gateway to the community spirit their dad was trying to force upon them.
As soon as Sonja left, she messaged their newly set up “Summer Sisters” WhatsApp group.