same as number two, but go on . . .”
Roberta sighed impatiently. “Forget the numbers, Josh. It’s pretty clear to me that she’s trying to inveigle her way into your family. It’s a bit odd at her age. Doesn’t she have family of her own?”
“Perhaps they’re in Canada.”
“It’s the twenty-first century, and with the money she’s been given she can go back every week if she wishes!”
“Maybe she doesn’t have family, then. Perhaps we are the only family she has.”
“It’s still odd to adopt a family in your thirties. She should be concentrating on making a family of her own. You said she was pretty; funny she can’t find a man to marry her.”
Joshua shook his head wearily. “I don’t know, Roberta, and I don’t care. I’ll go down at the weekend and meet her for Mum’s sake. Itwould be nice if you came, too, with Amber, but if you’re going to make a scene, I’d rather you stayed behind.”
She grinned wickedly. “Oh no, I’m coming to observe, even though I gave Kathy the weekend off. I’ll happily look after Amber all by myself in order to witness what would be a marvelous black comedy if it wasn’t so tragic!”
The following afternoon Antoinette stood before her husband’s grave and placed a posy of spring flowers against the temporary wooden headstone Barry had made. The sight of the dates 1954–2012 brought on a surge of anguish, and she sank to her knees and put her head in her hands. It was hard to imagine that George lay buried beneath the ground, like the dogs buried at the top of their garden. Nothing remained of him but possessions, and they had no life without him. “I’m so unhappy, George,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to be on my own anymore. But more than that, I’m so cross. Yes, I’m furious with you for lying to me. Why didn’t you tell me about Phaedra, when I would have supported you without question? Did you doubt me? Is that why you kept her secret? Did you think I’d be angry? How could you, when I never complained that you abandoned me all the time? You always went off on your travels and I let you go, because I loved you and wanted you to be happy. But whenever did you put me first, like I always put you first? Your climbing came before me, and I didn’t complain; surely you knew that I would never have complained about Phaedra.You were everything to me, George, but I was not everything to you. I realize that now, and it makes me so cross. If I had been everything to you, you wouldn’t have taken such risks. You wouldn’t have died a young man and left me a widow. But you’ve abandoned me again, this time forever, and I can’t accept it. I just can’t.”
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. The graveyard was littered with headstones, many inscribed with the Frampton name, dating back as far as the fourteenth century. Some were so old it was no longer possible to read the inscriptions on them. But each one of those graves bore witness to a life—a life that was once as vibrant as hers. One day she’d lie here beside George, and her vibrantlife would be over, too. Things that had seemed important would be reduced to nothing. Her existence would end like this, in a cold graveyard, and the years that had seemed so long would be reduced to a couple of inanimate dates carved into stone. How short life was—for what purpose?
A wave of fear washed over her, and she caught her breath. Death was inevitable, and it would come as surely as autumn follows summer. It wasn’t just something that happened to everyone else, but something that would happen to her . There was no avoiding it.
She stood up and hurried into the church. There was no one inside. It was dim but for the afternoon light that streamed through the stained-glass windows and fell upon the pews, catching small particles of dust in the air and making them shine like tiny fireflies. She walked up the aisle and sat in the front pew, facing the altar. Kneeling in
Roberta sighed impatiently. “Forget the numbers, Josh. It’s pretty clear to me that she’s trying to inveigle her way into your family. It’s a bit odd at her age. Doesn’t she have family of her own?”
“Perhaps they’re in Canada.”
“It’s the twenty-first century, and with the money she’s been given she can go back every week if she wishes!”
“Maybe she doesn’t have family, then. Perhaps we are the only family she has.”
“It’s still odd to adopt a family in your thirties. She should be concentrating on making a family of her own. You said she was pretty; funny she can’t find a man to marry her.”
Joshua shook his head wearily. “I don’t know, Roberta, and I don’t care. I’ll go down at the weekend and meet her for Mum’s sake. Itwould be nice if you came, too, with Amber, but if you’re going to make a scene, I’d rather you stayed behind.”
She grinned wickedly. “Oh no, I’m coming to observe, even though I gave Kathy the weekend off. I’ll happily look after Amber all by myself in order to witness what would be a marvelous black comedy if it wasn’t so tragic!”
The following afternoon Antoinette stood before her husband’s grave and placed a posy of spring flowers against the temporary wooden headstone Barry had made. The sight of the dates 1954–2012 brought on a surge of anguish, and she sank to her knees and put her head in her hands. It was hard to imagine that George lay buried beneath the ground, like the dogs buried at the top of their garden. Nothing remained of him but possessions, and they had no life without him. “I’m so unhappy, George,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to be on my own anymore. But more than that, I’m so cross. Yes, I’m furious with you for lying to me. Why didn’t you tell me about Phaedra, when I would have supported you without question? Did you doubt me? Is that why you kept her secret? Did you think I’d be angry? How could you, when I never complained that you abandoned me all the time? You always went off on your travels and I let you go, because I loved you and wanted you to be happy. But whenever did you put me first, like I always put you first? Your climbing came before me, and I didn’t complain; surely you knew that I would never have complained about Phaedra.You were everything to me, George, but I was not everything to you. I realize that now, and it makes me so cross. If I had been everything to you, you wouldn’t have taken such risks. You wouldn’t have died a young man and left me a widow. But you’ve abandoned me again, this time forever, and I can’t accept it. I just can’t.”
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. The graveyard was littered with headstones, many inscribed with the Frampton name, dating back as far as the fourteenth century. Some were so old it was no longer possible to read the inscriptions on them. But each one of those graves bore witness to a life—a life that was once as vibrant as hers. One day she’d lie here beside George, and her vibrantlife would be over, too. Things that had seemed important would be reduced to nothing. Her existence would end like this, in a cold graveyard, and the years that had seemed so long would be reduced to a couple of inanimate dates carved into stone. How short life was—for what purpose?
A wave of fear washed over her, and she caught her breath. Death was inevitable, and it would come as surely as autumn follows summer. It wasn’t just something that happened to everyone else, but something that would happen to her . There was no avoiding it.
She stood up and hurried into the church. There was no one inside. It was dim but for the afternoon light that streamed through the stained-glass windows and fell upon the pews, catching small particles of dust in the air and making them shine like tiny fireflies. She walked up the aisle and sat in the front pew, facing the altar. Kneeling in
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