‘I’m afraid I’ve come with some very sad news,’ he said. ‘Your grandmother died this morning.’
There was a long pause while she digested his words. Her sadness was tempered by gratitude, for it was obvious that her death had inspired their reconciliation.
‘I was very fond of the old witch. She was good to me,’ she said. ‘Let’s go and put the kettle on.’
He followed her into the kitchen, where they had so often sat and shared secrets. It smelt so much the same – of fudge, baking bread and coffee – that Max felt the years melting away like the frosted trees outside in the sunshine. He took off his coat and sat in his usual place at the kitchen table just like old times. For a while neither spoke. He watched her as she boiled the kettle, took the mugs down from the cupboard and searched around for clean teaspoons. She hadn’t changed in all the years that he had known her, rather like her grandmother. Her skin was still as pale and speckled as the egg of a thrush, her hair was still wild and knotted; only her eyes had lost their innocence and were now cast in shadow. She might as well be a child of the sea, he thought wistfully, and he was suddenly gripped with longing to hold her.
She turned and caught him gazing at her. She smiled shyly and brought over the tea. ‘Were you with her when she died?’ she asked, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
‘Yes, Ruth and I,’ he replied. The desolation he suffered at the loss of her grandmother seemed to pull down his whole face. Rita was filled with compassion and extended her hand to touch his.
‘I’m so sorry, Max. I know she was a mother to you.’
‘She was old. She’d had a good life. But I’ll miss her.’ His eyes shone as he smelt the familiar scent of mothballs and cinnamon as if she were in the room with them. ‘She was the only link Ruth and I had with the past. Now she’s gone, I feel as if a little of me has gone with her. But I mustn’t keep looking back. Yesterday is only memories, after all. Today is real and each moment is precious. It was just so unexpected. I never thought she’d die.’
‘Her life is to be celebrated, not mourned.’
‘You’re right. She wouldn’t want us all to mope around feeling sorry for ourselves.’
‘I can’t imagine she went quietly?’
‘She said Denzil was there waiting for her but she was determined to have her say before she went. I think he had to drag her off.’
‘That sounds like Megagran.’ She laughed affectionately. ‘I hope she forgave me before she left. We didn’t really get on in the last few years.’
‘She told me you’re selling your work in London now,’ he said, changing the subject.
‘Yes, this wonderful old man called Mr Bradley buys about thirty sculptures a year to sell in his shop. I can barely keep up with his orders. I can’t imagine who buys them.’
‘You’re very talented. Don’t put yourself down.’
‘At least it pays the bills. I never thought I’d make it. Thought I’d have to go back to the library.’
‘I’d hate to think of you still toiling away in that stuffy old place. I’m glad you’re creating. It’s good for the soul.’ He cocked his head and swept his eyes over her face with an intensity that made her stomach swim. ‘You look well. You look happy.’
‘I am well and I am happy,’ she said with emphasis. ‘Now you’re here.’ It was his turn to blush. ‘I was lonely without you. The old cliché is true: you don’t appreciate people until they’re gone.’
‘I won’t leave you again, I promise.’
‘What are you going to do now? I’m pleased that Megagran has left Elvestree to you. You love it more than anyone else. I love it too, but now we’re friends again I can come and visit as often as I like.’
‘I don’t know. I have to sort things out with Delfine. She hates it here.’ The name Delfine grated and Rita felt herself bristle like an animal suffering a threat to her territory. She had completely forgotten about his fiancée. She withdrew her hand. ‘One thing is for certain, I’ll spend far more time down here. Elvestree is a house that needs to be lived in. Who’s going to feed all those cats for a start?’
Rita recovered her composure, grateful that Delfine would never belong in her grandmother’s house, and screwed up her nose. ‘Let’s pretend Megagran left them all to Antoinette!’ she said with a mischievous smile.
When Max returned to Elvestree all the cats had gone. Ruth had been busy telephoning and organizing the cremation. Mrs Megalith’s body had been taken away and the house suddenly felt empty as if its spirit had gone too. Ruth was as bewildered as Max. ‘Where could they all have gone?’ she exclaimed, raising her hands to the sky.