11 The Teashop on the Corner (45 page)
Pavitar held Molly’s hand which felt as tiny and chilled as a new-born bird in his large, solid one. Margaret held her other and Molly felt the warmth from them both
coursing through her like electricity and was strengthened by it. She was surrounded by such dear people – her family and her new friends who were already more important to her than her own
son.
The vicar was a young man who delivered a wonderful speech made up from information he had gathered from Molly and the Brandywines. He began by saying that Harvey Hoyland was like Austin Powers
– an international man of mystery. No one would know the full story of his life now, but it was obviously a grand one. Harvey Hoyland was a man who loved adventures. He was flawed, impulsive,
bohemian but he had a good and loving heart. And he died peacefully in the place where he was loved and accepted and cared for.
After the cremation service, Pavitar, Carla and Leni went on to the Brandywine house and they all raised a glass to Harvey’s memory.
‘Thank you for coming,’ Molly said to them all. ‘We haven’t known each other all that long, but I feel that you were true friends to Harvey and myself. You helped make
the time we had together very special.’
She had cried and cried over the past days, but at the funeral she hadn’t at all. She would miss him but he had changed her and for the better. She intended to fulfil her promise to him
and travel. She wanted to see the sights which he had and she knew she would sense him at her shoulder when she did so.
When everyone had gone, Margaret insisted that Molly should not be alone.
‘Go and pack a few things and come back over here.’
‘Would you like me to come with you, dear?’ asked Bernard.
‘No, I can manage,’ said Molly, not even wishing to put up any resistance to Margaret’s offer. She had always felt safe and secure in the old Brandywine house. It would be the
perfect place to recharge her batteries.
The answering machine on her phone was flashing when she walked into Willowfell. When she pressed the button, a female voice started talking.
Hello, this is a message for Mr Harvey Hoyland. I wonder if you could give Sylvia a ring please on Barnsley 534878
.
Molly was in no mood to return the call or even to muster up enough curiosity to wonder what that was about, at least not today. She replayed the message and wrote down the number on a notepad
though. Then she went upstairs to change out of the black dress and pack a bag.
She pushed open the door to Harvey’s old room. His cologne was on the dressing table. It wasn’t an expensive one, but it suited him: it smelt of forests and open air to match the
ridiculously free spirit he was. Molly screwed the top off and inhaled and imagined Harvey tipping it into his hands to slap onto his cheeks before they went out to the Teashop on the Corner. He
had always been shaved and clean and as smart as his old suits and shirts would allow him to be. She pulled out one of his drawers which was full of socks, all paired into balls. He had few
belongings, a couple of ten-pound notes in his wallet only. He had turned up at her door with that battered suitcase and not much else to his name. At least he hadn’t had a poor man’s
funeral. Carla’s flowers had been stunning and Bernard had made sure everything had been arranged perfectly. She thought Harvey would have approved.
His will stated very simply that everything he owned he left to Molly. She knew it wouldn’t have been very much at all. Stored with that envelope and the one containing his succinct
funeral plans, she had found a third in his case, addressed to
My Molly
.
She hadn’t felt strong enough to open it before. Now she did. She slit the seal and pulled out the folded paper inside written in his strong slanting hand.
My Lovely Molly
It is my turn to write a letter to you. If you are reading this, then I am gone and our outings to that wonderful Teashop on the Corner are at an end for me. But they
must not be for you. I want you to start by taking my ashes to Venice – there, that is a command. You cannot go to such a beautiful city alone so you have my blessings to take Pavitar
with you. What a wonderful man. I should be happy if you were to become good friends or more. I want you to love and be loved, Molly. I want you to make up for lost time.
Be warned, my love, you will not enjoy this paragraph.
Twenty-five years ago, I recklessly put all the money I had in my wallet at the time on a seven-horse accumulator. Yes, I can imagine what you are thinking now, and
how much your head is shaking, but I was an addict for the adrenaline rush. And my – what an afternoon it was, the reckless exploit of a lifetime. It was as if every horse was enchanted
and flew acr oss the finish line. I won a lot, and I do mean a lot, of money. And I used it to travel ar ound the world and back again. It was all bloody marvellous. But never perfect, because
you weren’t there with me and I always missed you.
I hoped that one day I might have the courage to come back to you and take you to the other side of the world but my cowardly hand had to be forced by my condition. I
regret that so much.
Molly, my dear, there is a lot of money still left and it is all bequeathed to you, as you will see in my will. On the reverse of this letter are my bank details. Use
the money to travel. And start by taking me with you to Venice so that I can lie in the waters there. I think I should enjoy bobbing ar ound with the gondolas.
Live for us both, my darling. I wish I were with you, but know that my heart will stay with you always. Thank you for making my last days so perfectly
precious.
All my love – eternally.
Harvey xxx
Molly’s legs gave way and she sank onto the bed that Margaret had stripped. Tears dropped onto the letter, then stopped as quickly as they had started.
Yes, I will live for us both,
she heard her own voice, strong and loud, inside her say. Her head started buzzing with plans. She would tie up her money and make sure that her niece
Melinda inherited the house. Graham and Sherry wouldn’t be getting a penny when she shuffled off this mortal coil. She wouldn’t wait for Margaret and Bernard to take her on a cruise,
she would book one herself. And yes, she would start by going to Venice. She heard Harvey’s words whisper to her:
That’s my girl.
Leni walked into Anne’s room with an armful of blue sheets and a blue quilt cover. The material was a print of old boys’ adventure books.
She put them down on the chair and started to strip the pink covers off the bed but found she couldn’t do it. This was Anne’s room. It was here waiting for her to return. There would
be no place for her to sleep if this became Ryan’s room. And it would start becoming that if she took off the pink covers and put blue ones on.
She looked around at his few possessions, sharing space with Anne’s knick-knacks. There was a letter on the desk bearing the school insignia on the right hand side. She picked it up and
read it.
Dear Ryan
We are happy to announce that you have been chosen to receive the year literary prize as recommended by your English teacher Mr Birtwistle. This is a
tremendous achievement, especially as this is the third year in succession for which you have won it. There will be a prize-giving ceremony on Monday 15th July at 11am if you would like to
invite your parents.
Well done, Ryan. Your head of year Mr Threlfall and myself are delighted for you.
A Brookland
Principal
Monday. Ryan hadn’t said a word to her. But then again, why should he? She wasn’t his parent. She doubted anyone had ever been to school to witness him receiving a
prize. Maybe he just didn’t expect anyone to support him. It crossed her mind that he had deliberately left it there for her to see, but she didn’t think Ryan had it in him to be that
artful.
She was getting too involved with the boy, she knew. She couldn’t let him replace Anne.
She took a deep breath, whipped off the pink sheets and put on the blue as quickly as possible. Her eyes rained tears as she did so.
Molly stayed with her sister and Bernard until she felt strong enough to return to her house on Monday. They reluctantly let her go.
Molly pushed open the door to Willowfell expecting to feel Harvey’s presence lingering there, but she didn’t. It was as if he had never been there. He had moved on, taking every
trace of him away, as he had done twenty-eight years ago. But this time she didn’t feel sad and weakened but strong and empowered. She had things to look forward to.
Live was for the
living
, he had told her and she was going to make damned sure she lived it to the full over the next years.
The answering machine was flashing that a message had been recorded. Molly pressed the button to retrieve it and primed herself to hear Sherry’s whine, but she was wrong.
Hello, this is Sylvia again with a message for Mr Harvey Hoyland. Could you please give me a ring on Barnsley 543878.
Molly remembered that the woman had rung before. She picked up the phone and dialled. A cheery young female voice answered.
‘Good morning, Waterhouse and White. Can I help you?’
‘Erm, yes, could I please speak to Sylvia.’
‘Yep. I’ll just get her for you.’
Waterhouse and White
? Were they solicitors? The name rang a faint bell but Molly couldn’t think where she had heard it before.
‘Sylvia speaking.’ It was the woman who had left the messages.
‘Hello,’ began Molly. ‘I wonder if you can help me. You’ve left a couple of messages for Mr Harvey Hoyland at this number asking him to return your call.’
‘Ye-es.’ Sylvia’s voice acquired an immediate tone of caution.
‘I’m afraid he passed away,’ said Molly.
‘Oh dear, I am sorry,’ said Sylvia. Concern now ruling her tone. ‘Am I speaking to Molly?’
Molly’s forehead puckered in confusion. ‘Yes. Yes, you are.’
‘Would you be able to come to the shop?’ said Sylvia. ‘You’ll need to bring a form of ID with you but I have something for you. I’ll explain when you
arrive.’
Sylvia was there to meet Molly when she arrived at Waterhouse and White, which was a jewellers tucked away on a back street off Old Sheffield Road. It was a shop that belonged
to another era: very old-fashioned, with a pawn division around the back. Tens of clocks hung on the walls, tick-tocking the time.
Sylvia shook her hand and smiled sympathetically. ‘Would you come through to my office,’ she requested, lifting up a wooden leaf attached to the counter so that Molly could follow
her into a small back room furnished with an old desk, a chair at either side of it.
Sylvia closed the door to afford them some privacy.
‘I’m very intrigued by all this,’ said Molly.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss,’ said Sylvia. ‘I wish we could have got this to him sooner. But, these things do take time. Hopefully we’ve done him proud. Would you
mind if I saw some identification? Protocol, I’m afraid.’
Molly took out her passport, two utility bills and her driving licence but Sylvia was satisfied enough with the first form of ID. As Molly was putting everything back in her handbag, Sylvia
reached down and unlocked a drawer at the side of her. She took out a package and out of this, she brought a small dark blue oval box and set it on the table in front of Molly.
‘Mr Hoyland was most specific about the design. He said it was “in keeping”.’
Molly reached over and lifted the velvet box. She opened it to reveal an eternity ring set with oval sapphires and diamonds. It would have matched her beautiful engagement ring, had her son not
stolen it.
Her hand flew up to her mouth and she hiccupped a sob.
‘It’s . . .’ she couldn’t find the word as she lifted it out. It fitted her ring finger exactly.
‘He brought some rings in with him to check the size,’ said Sylvia. ‘I’m so glad it fits. It’s the nicest eternity ring I think I’ve seen. So exquisitely
simple. He was so excited about giving it to you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Molly, hardly able to raise any volume in her voice.
‘He was quite a man, arranging that in secret for you, wasn’t he? Such a romantic thing to do for someone you love,’ said Sylvia, handing Molly a box of tissues.
‘He was one of a kind,’ replied Molly with a tearful smile. ‘Just like this ring.’
‘And the Literacy prize goes to a young man who is a star in the making. Ryan O’Gowan has secured this award for the third year running. Ryan, come up and receive
your prize.’
Ryan stood up to applause from his peers, teachers and other parents at the back of the school hall, hearing one set of hands clapping more loudly than the rest of the others
put together.
‘Well done, Ryan.’
He recognised the voice above the noise, ringing out like a bell. He looked to the side and he saw her in the crowd, her big smile, her proud eyes, her bright red coat and his heart leapt so
high that it threatened to jump out of his mouth. He visibly started to glow, with gratitude, with love as he accepted his prize from the Principal, shaking both his hand and that of his Head of
Year, then stood between them whilst they posed for a photograph for the school halls of fame. He waved to Leni, his eyes shining. He didn’t think he had ever felt happier. This was a
mint
day – which would be made better only by the fact that there was a brand new Kindle wrapped up in blue paper on his bed awaiting his return.
Molly was sitting in the garden imagining Harvey going into Waterhouse and White with a design for the ring that he might never see her wearing. She was studying the bright
diamonds and the dark blue sapphires, moving her hand this way and that so the sunlight twinkled and bounced off them, when she heard the squeak of the back gate opening. She looked up to see
Pavitar Singh.
