‘Phone her and take her out for dinner to that restaurant she loves. And give her flowers.’ I grinned. ‘A woman likes a bit of romance now and again.’
So he did and they got back together.
Around that time, in January, Eleanor was having some dental work done and one night, having dinner at ours, she started talking about veneers and how she’d love to have them on her top two front teeth, except they were really expensive. Dad, overjoyed to have her back in his life, leaned over and took her hand, smiled and said, ‘Get them. I’ll buy them for you. As a welcome-back gift.’
Eleanor was over the moon. She had them done a couple of weeks later and I could tell she was pleased with them because she smiled a lot more.
When she moved in a few weeks after that, it seemed a bit sudden, but I was genuinely happy for them both. Dad bought her a gorgeous ring with a big, sparkling sapphire (her favourite gemstone) to celebrate and she wore it all the time.
‘When you know, you know,’ said Dad, when we chatted about it. There were tears of joy in his eyes. ‘I never thought I’d be happy again…after your mum…but Eleanor’s brought out the sun again.’
‘I know, Dad, and I’m so glad.’
I missed the times Dad and I spent together, just the two of us, but on balance, I reckoned it was better this way. Eleanor had introduced him to a whole new way of life, going out to the cinema and the theatre, and even the ballet, which Dad had always professed to dislike.
‘I never thought I’d see the day,’ I teased, when they returned and he admitted he’d actually enjoyed it.
Dad smiled. ‘I see the world differently when I’m with Eleanor. She’s good for me.’
I nodded. ‘She is. She takes charge and that’s good when you’re a bit of a day-dreamer, like the both of us.’ I smiled. ‘And she’s good at getting rid of spiders, remember?’
He laughed. ‘She’ll be your friend for life after that.’
I have a fear of spiders that borders on a phobia and the first time Eleanor came round, I’d found a big one in my room, which Eleanor coolly and calmly put out of the window.
Dad put an arm round me and squeezed. ‘And are you okay, love? We don’t spend as much time together these days.’
The concern in his eyes made me want to cry. But I forced a smile and nodded. ‘I’m fine. I’m getting there.’
To be fair, as long as Dad was happy, that was good enough for me.
I was so pleased when they got back together. Dad was much happier, and while I couldn’t say that I was, at least I didn’t have to worry about Dad any more. It was strange, though. On the one hand, I felt as if a burden had been partially lifted. But the downside was that now I’d stopped being anxious about how Dad was coping, the focus had shifted instead to my own grief.
Without Dad to watch out for, I was plunged into a terrible grief that was maybe the worse for having been delayed. I missed Mum more each day. And I also felt guilty, because in my very worst moments – usually lying awake in the small hours - I actually found myself wishing Dad had never met Eleanor. Deep down, I knew she’d saved his life, but she’d also taken him away from me.
I gritted my teeth and tried not to mind when I was in my room and I could hear Dad downstairs, laughing with Eleanor. I knew it was illogical to feel jealous. But I couldn’t seem to help it. It was starting to feel like I hadn’t just lost Mum, I’d lost both my parents…
And then things got worse.
I started doing weird things. Like leaving the fridge door wide open or forgetting to turn off the hob so that the potatoes boiled dry and burned the pan. It became a bit embarrassing, but Dad and Eleanor were really good about my vagueness. They understood that grief affected people in different ways. But I got so down about my forgetfulness that I even stopped painting. I regularly used to take a drive into the countryside in Mum’s old camper van, park up by a wood or a stream and get out my portable easel and my watercolours to capture the scene. But even that went by the wayside now.
What scared me most was when I started to become overly sensitive to situations, reading things into people’s words and actions that I realised later was all in my imagination.
I can clearly remember the first time it happened.
Eleanor found me crying over Mum’s jewellery box that day, and she was really lovely with me. She sat down on the bed, put her arm around me and said, ‘What a beautiful collection. Your mum obviously had great taste.’
I smiled through my tears. ‘She did. She was well known in the village for her larger than life necklaces and show-stopping earrings.’ I sniffed and Eleanor handed me a tissue. ‘And she had a personality to match. Everyone loved her.’
I showed Eleanor one of Mum’s favourite pieces of costume jewellery – a chunk of amber, handcrafted into a heart shape, on a delicate silver chain.
‘Mum wore that all the time. I sometimes put it on when I’m in my room.’ I shrugged. ‘It makes me feel closer to her.’
Eleanor frowned and ran her hand over the eye-catching pendant. ‘The possessions belonging to loved ones are so precious, especially when the person’s no longer here,’ she murmured. ‘But…I do wonder if these are stopping you moving on, Lucy.’
I stared at her. ‘What do you mean?’
She smiled sadly. ‘One day, you’ll be able to take your mum’s jewellery out and enjoy it because it brings back happy memories. But at the moment, I’m not sure clinging to her possessions is necessarily a good thing?’
I frowned. What was she suggesting?
Eleanor sighed, as if she was trying to think how best to explain. ‘It’s just I think, for now, it might be better to concentrate on the future instead of lingering in the past?’
She said it so gently and I could see the logic of her suggestion.
‘Why don’t I keep these for you? Just for now?’ She closed the lid and stood up, holding the box. ‘Until you’re feeling stronger.’
‘What?’ I looked at her in horror. ‘No!’ My cry sounded desperate. ‘They’re mine. Mum left them to me. Give them back!’ I rose and snatched the box away, accidentally scraping Eleanor’s hand with my nails, and she stepped back in alarm.
I stared at her, Mum’s jewellery box pressed to my chest, my heart thumping in a panic. In that moment, in my mind, Eleanor truly was the enemy, attempting to take Mum away from me.
Trying to take Mum’s place by pretending to be my friend!
‘Sorry, Lucy. I was only trying to help.’ She looked hurt.
That brought me to my senses, and I felt terrible. As she started to leave, I quickly apologised and she turned with a sympathetic smile.
I held out the jewellery box. ‘You’re right. Please keep it for me.’
‘Are you sure, Lucy? I just want to do what’s best.’
‘I know. And yes, I’m sure.’
She took the box and nodded cheerfully. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take very good care of it.’
After she left, I sat there, staring at the door, wondering what was happening to me. Eleanor was my friend. Not my enemy. I sank down onto the bed, shame flooding through me. She was only trying to help, but I’d acted like a thing possessed.