“Do you know, I’d actually love a stiff drink. I never dared to hope that I would ever get him back, and now I’m about to, frankly, I feel a tad wobbly.”
They settled on gin and limes in Anthony’s honor, and took them through to the garden, collecting the biscuit tin from the study on the way. As Eunice sat nursing her drink in one hand and the biscuit tin in the other, her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry. I’m just being a complete silly arse. But you have no idea how much this means to me. You have just mended a foolish woman’s broken heart.”
She took a sip from her drink and then a deep breath.
“Now, I expect you want to know what this is all about?”
Eunice and Laura had exchanged several e-mails via the website, but they had only covered sufficient details to establish that it was actually Eunice who had lost the ashes.
“Are you sitting comfortably?” she asked Laura. “I’m afraid it’s rather a long story.”
Eunice began at the beginning and told Laura everything. She was a natural storyteller and Laura was surprised that she had never written anything herself. The abduction of Bomber’s ashes from the funeral directors had Laura in tears of laughter, laughter which Eunice could at last share, now that she had got Bomber back.
“It all went splendidly until I got on the train,” she explained.
“At the station after I got on, I was joined in the carriage by a woman with two small children, who had obviously overdosed on sweets and fizzy pop, judging by the tide marks around their mouths and their uncontrollable behavior. Their poor mother could barely keep them in their seats, and when the little girl announced that she ‘needed a wee right now!’ the mother asked me if I could possibly keep an eye on her brother while she took the little girl to the toilet. I could hardly say no.”
Eunice took a sip of her drink, and hugged the biscuit tin closer to her side as though she might lose it again.
“The little boy sat in his seat poking his tongue out at me just until his mother was out of sight and then leaped to his feet and made a run for it. Sod’s law helpfully ensured that this was just as the train was pulling into a station, and I wasn’t quick enough to stop him jumping off the train when the doors opened, and so I was forced to follow him. I had my bag over my arm, but by the time I realized I had left Bomber in his seat, it was too late.”
Eunice shuddered at the memory.
“I’m sure you can imagine the pandemonium that followed. The mother was beside herself, wildly accusing me of kidnapping her son. Frankly, I was only too glad to give the little bugger back. I was absolutely frantic about leaving Bomber on the train and reported it straightaway, but by the time the train had reached Brighton, he was gone.”
Laura topped up their glasses.
“It’s an unusual name, Bomber.”
“Oh, that wasn’t his real name. His real name was Charles Bramwell Brockley. But I never knew anyone to call him that. He was always Bomber. And he would have loved you,” she said to Carrot, gently stroking his head, which was by now resting in her lap. “He loved all dogs.”
“And he was a publisher, you say? I wonder if he ever crossed paths with Anthony. He was a writer; short stories in the main. Anthony Peardew.”
“Oh yes,” Eunice replied. “That’s a name I remember well. His is a great story, you know; Anthony and Therese, the study full of his collection, the website. There has to be a book in it.”
Laura thought about her schoolgirl dreams of being a writer and smiled wistfully. Too late for all that now.
Eunice was still hugging the biscuit tin tightly to her side.
“Do you still work in publishing?” Laura asked her.
Eunice shook her head.
“No, no. My heart wasn’t in it after Bomber . . .” Her voice trailed away. “But if you’re ever interested in giving the book a go, I’d be very happy to help. I still have contacts and I could recommend you to some agents.”
The two women sat in silence for a while, enjoying their drinks, the scent of the roses, and the peace and quiet of a sunny afternoon.
“And what about you, Laura?” Eunice finally spoke. “Do you have someone in your life—someone you love like I loved Bomber?”
Laura shook her head.
“I did, until a few days ago. But we had a fight.”
She paused, thinking about what had actually happened.
“Okay. I started an argument; a pathetic, ridiculous, puerile argument. Well, it wasn’t even an argument, because he didn’t argue back. He just stood there listening to me rant on like a hysterical half-wit before I flounced off. I haven’t seen him since.”
Laura was slightly surprised at the relief she felt from simply saying it out loud.
“My name is Laura and I’ve been a complete bloody idiot.”
“You’re very hard on yourself, my dear.”
Eunice squeezed her hand and smiled.
“But you love him?”
Laura nodded miserably.