The Family. Louise Jensen
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first thing is don’t panic.’ Alex paused until I lifted my head and nodded. ‘It’s not unusual to get a no before you get a yes. Some companies will pay out on an interim certificate. Some won’t. Who are you with?’
‘Ironstone.’ I pulled a letter from my bag and thrust it towards him. His eyes scanned the page.
‘Evans? Your husband was Gavan from Evans Construction. Saffron didn’t mention that.’
‘I didn’t tell her.’ A sinking feeling in my stomach. How stupid to think he wouldn’t have heard of us. Toxic waste is probably something they campaign about here. ‘Look, I know building on a landfill probably goes against all your principles but…’ I fiddled with the wedding ring on my finger. The gold digging into my flesh as I twisted it round and round trying to find the right words.
‘We’re quick to judge others.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Too quick.’ He placed a hand on my arm and my fingers stilled. ‘Here we practice acceptance. I’m sorry for all you’ve been through.’
He turned his attention back to the letter. The wait for him to speak again was painfully slow.
‘Ironstone is one of the newer companies, so it’s likely they won’t pay out on a suicide. The modern ones rarely do.’
‘Gavan didn’t jump.’ He wouldn’t have chosen to leave us.
‘Of course not. I’m just running through their thought process. They’ll be wanting to know what caused the accident. Did he have a blackout from some previously undiagnosed condition? Did he have a heart attack and then fall? Did he have a brain tumour that burst?’
‘The post mortem didn’t say any of those things. He had a subdural haematoma and midline shift.’ Phrases I’d only previously heard on Casualty tripped off my tongue. ‘It was the fall that killed him.’ It was impossible to discuss the love of my life with a detachment I didn’t feel. I fished a tissue from my pocket as I asked, ‘I don’t understand why that’s not enough.’
‘Gavan was an experienced builder?’
I nodded as I blew my nose.
‘Then the inquest will also be asking why he was up on the roof in bad weather? If he’d been drinking? Taking drugs?’
‘He had 50 milligrams of alcohol in his blood.’ I don’t know why; he was supposed to have been at work all day.
‘I can’t imagine how you feel, losing your husband and… I’m so sorry.’ A beat, then, ‘Look, I’m not saying it will be easy but it’s certainly not impossible to get an interim payment.’
‘Do you think…’ I trailed off, hoping he would fill in the gaps but he didn’t. I started again. ‘Do you think you could help me please? I can’t afford to pay you right now but Saffron said I could perhaps help out with planting or something.’ Even to me, my offer seemed inadequate.
He studied me.
‘Here’s the thing,’ he began, and my spirits sunk even lower. ‘The policy is in your name, Laura, and I can’t speak on your behalf so I can either walk you through the process or you can sign a permission form so Ironstone have to deal with me. I’d need a copy of your policy of course.’
I could have kissed him. ‘If you could speak to them directly that would be great. How long do you think it might take to get an answer?’
‘I’m not going to lie to you, Laura.’ He spoke with such sincerity. ‘The inquest might happen sooner than I can get any sort of pay-out.’
I turned away to blow my nose, not wanting him to see my disappointment.
His stomach growled. ‘That’s my internal body clock letting me know it’s lunchtime. Are you hungry? Shall we head over to the main house? Find Tilly?’
‘Yes.’ We stood. I tried not to show my disappointment that the insurance wouldn’t be resolved quickly enough to cover the arrears on my rent, but he saw it anyway.
‘Oh, Laura.’ He pulled me into a hug. ‘I can promise you I will do my absolute best for you and your daughter.’
His arm encircling my waist. The feel of him. The smell of him. I shivered.
Oddly, even then, something pulled me towards him. The only way I can explain it was that I’d spent weeks dealing with death and all its aftermath. Somewhere, inside my core, I wanted to feel alive.
Alex was magnetic but it wasn’t only me he was attracting. I wasn’t the one willing to kill for him.
Willing to die for him.
TILLY
I had thought Saffron was wearing white because she was funky enough to carry it off, but in the kitchen were two other women also dressed in white. Honestly it felt a bit weird, it was winter after all, but I tried not to stare.
‘This is Tilly,’ Saffron said. ‘And this is Daisy. She’s the youngest here at twenty-three, as she keeps reminding me, because I’m so ancient at twenty-seven.’
‘Not at twenty-seven,’ Daisy said. ‘But just wait until you get to twenty-eight! Hi, Tilly.’ She gave a little wave. I mumbled ‘hello’. She didn’t look much older than me with her hair hanging in two long dark plaits either side of her heart-shaped face. She reminded me of Tiger Lily in Peter Pan. As an only child I was always envious of the Darling family. Siblings. I used to beg Mum for a brother or sister. She always laughed and said she had her hands full with just me, but her eyes would cloud and I wondered if she meant I was too much.
‘Croeso, Tilly. Welcome.’ Hazel had the biggest smile and rosy red cheeks. Grey hair bobbed to her shoulders but her face only had the odd line. She didn’t look properly old and I wondered why she didn’t dye her hair.
‘And Hazel is—’ Saffron began.
‘Saffron, don’t tell her how old I am!’
‘What’s it worth?’ Saffron held out her hand. ‘I was just going to say a fabulous cook.’ She blew a kiss.
‘You can see how much I love my food.’ Hazel patted her rounded stomach and there was something so cuddly about her I wanted to see if my arms would fit around her waist and hug her.
‘We all live in this house, along with Dafydd who owns the farm, because we’re special.’ Saffron fluffed her hair. ‘And there are eight others who bunk down in the stables across the way.’
‘In a stable?’ I couldn’t help blurting out.
‘It’s not a stable in the traditional sense. It’s huge and it’s been converted into dorms. They’ve a kitchen and bathroom too. They don’t always eat with us, unsociable bunch. Speaking of eating…’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘I’ll start preparing lunch. Do you like soup, Tilly?’ Hazel asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Vegetable okay?’
‘Can I help?’ I asked.
‘If you want to wash the soil off the veg,’ Hazel said.
I must have looked confused because Daisy said, ‘We grow our own produce here which reduces our carbon footprint.’
‘Mum shops at a greengrocer sometimes.’ I didn’t know how, but I was sure that must be better than buying everything from a supermarket chain. Supporting local business.
‘And where do they get their stock from? It’s still a huge amount of fossil fuel to transport food to a local business. On average about one and a half thousand miles is travelled before the food is consumed,’ she said, but she wasn’t patronising.
‘Daisy’s