Rebecca Pugh - Return To Bluebell Hill

‘Jessica? Do you want to take a few minutes first?’ Esme’s small hand squeezed her arm gently.

She nodded, grateful for Esme’s never-ending support. ‘Yes. Yes, please. Can we? I just need a little extra time, that’s all. Just a few minutes.’ She was rambling as Esme led her away from the entrance, working herself up into even more of state. How was this real? Why was it happening? Was it to teach her a lesson for running away and not coming back to Bluebell Hill when they’d still been alive? But what would have become of her if she’d stayed? A million thoughts went around and around in her mind as she stared, unseeing, ahead of herself.

‘Jessica, listen to me.’ Esme turned Jessica to face her and placed her hands on her shoulders. ‘You will get through this, okay? I’ll be right beside you every step of the way. I promise. We’ll do this together. If you want to cry, you cry. I know you’re confused about how to feel, but don’t be. Whatever emotion comes to you when we’re in there, just let it out. Don’t try to fight it, don’t question it. Just let it happen.’

Jessica took a few deep, calming breaths and nodded. ‘You’re right.’ She looked into Esme’s eyes and knew she’d make it through anything if she had Esme beside her. ‘What time do we need to be in there?’

‘Eleven.’ Esme checked the time on her watch. ‘We still have a few minutes so we’ll stay here until you feel calm enough, okay? No rushing into this. You take your time. That’s all you can do.’

‘Okay.’

They remained there for a couple of minutes until Esme’s head lifted. ‘Oh, Rueben’s here.’

‘Who’s here?’ Jessica glanced up from the ground and saw Esme moving off towards someone. She turned slightly to see who it was. Her mouth dropped open in surprise when she spotted the familiar face.

Their paths had crossed again, although not in the best circumstances, she had to admit. She watched him taking long strides up the path towards the church, dressed in a sharp black suit, bright white shirt and black tie beneath the tailored jacket. His hands were tucked neatly away in his trouser pockets. Jessica turned quickly, annoyed that this was the place where they were to meet again. She could hear chatter coming from behind her and realised that she probably looked ridiculous standing there with her back turned to them. She turned around and attempted a weak smile their way.

‘Rueben, come and meet Jessica,’ Esme said, dragging one of his suited arms in her direction. ‘This is Jessica, Mr and Mrs McAdams’ daughter.’ She pushed Rueben forward, a little forcefully, Jessica noticed. They came face to face.

It appeared that Rueben hadn’t yet realised who she was and was smiling easily at Esme’s insistence until he was directly in front of her and the easy smile slipped from his face, leaving in its place a confused frown. ‘Mr and Mrs McAdam’s daughter?’ he asked. His green eyes darted about her face quickly as if trying to make sense of it all. ‘Jessica McAdams?’ And then, just like that, Jessica saw the exact moment of realisation. His features all seemed to shift at the same time. He glanced towards the church, back at her, and then pulled an apologetic face. Anyone with half a brain would have been able to put two and two together.

Jessica shoved a hand towards him to give herself a reason to break eye contact. Perhaps she could pretend that the whole Cornwall thing hadn’t happened? ‘Yes, Jessica McAdams.’

He glanced at her waiting hand but returned his gaze to her face curiously. Finally, he took her hand with his own. It was huge compared to hers. Warm, too. ‘A pleasure to meet you, Jessica. I’m Rueben. Rueben Greer.’ They shook in a very business-like way before he turned his attention back to Esme. Jessica looked down at her hand, the warmth of his palm still present on her skin.

‘We’d better get inside. The service will be starting soon.’ He cast a wary glance at Jessica. ‘I’m sorry for your loss. It must be a really difficult time for you.’

She wasn’t sure if she deserved his sympathies but she smiled gratefully at him anyway. ‘Thank you.’

They continued to watch each other curiously until Esme linked her arm with Jessica’s. ‘Are you ready, dear?’

They crunched up the stony path towards the church. Jessica ignored her surroundings, the headstones, the sorrowful faces as they reached the church doors, people sniffing into handkerchiefs as they headed inside. She searched for Esme’s hand as they found a suitable place to be seated in the church. As the service began, she clutched tighter the small hand in hers and allowed herself to cry, just like Esme had said.

It was the strangest thing to feel like an imposter at her own parents’ funeral but tears still fell. They fell for the days she’d spent as a child wishing that her parents loved her. They were tears for the hopes of a sad little girl, who even the love and care of Esme couldn’t make better. They were tears for the loneliness, despite Esme being at her side almost every single day. Tears for dinners eaten with Esme rather than her parents, days in the garden with Esme, tears for the nights she’d spent forcing herself to stay awake to see her parents, tears for mornings when she had attempted to wake up earlier than usual to catch them on their way out, only to find that they’d already left for yet another day at the hospital. Tears for birthdays when it had been Esme telling her to make a wish as she blew out her birthday candles, instead of her mother and father. She wasn’t crying because of Esme’s constant presence in her childhood, but for the lack of her parents’. It was such a shame that you couldn’t turn back time.

The service seemed to slip by in just moments and before she was aware of it, people were filing out of the church, dabbing at their eyes with hankies and snivelling sadly for the loss of two such hard-working, respectable people.

***

The three of them left the church and blinked in the early afternoon sunshine as they walked. For the first time since she’d arrived in Bluebell Hill, Jessica noticed the pearly white clouds in the sky. They felt ridiculously appropriate for what the morning had held for her.

‘A beautiful service,’ Rueben commented politely as they walked down the path towards the village square. A group of people were following behind them, back to their daily lives after a bleak morning spent in the church.

Esme agreed. ‘It was, wasn’t it? A beautiful send-off. Don’t you agree, Jessica?’

Jessica glanced at both of them. She felt slightly dizzy and not at all with it. ‘Yes, it was beautiful.’ And it had been. She wondered now, as they walked back through the village square, who the people were who had brought those flowers? She could have stepped forward to have a read of the cards, say a few words herself, but hadn’t felt able to. She didn’t feel like she had a right to do that. They may have been her parents but their relationship had been non-existent. It couldn’t suddenly change because they had passed away.

‘Do you fancy joining us for lunch, Rueben?’ Esme asked once they were nearing the cottage. The air was warm and the birds were singing happily. Jessica wished she could join in with them. She wished she had something to sing about. Instead, she angled her face towards the sun and allowed the rays to dance across her skin, to somehow help her in her hour of need. The clouds had only been fleeting and now, as she looked up, the sky was once again cloud free. A smooth blue was spread out above her like an ocean.

Rueben agreed to lunch after much persuasion from Esme. The old woman hurried back to the cottage and left Jessica and Rueben trailing behind. ‘Don’t rush, Jessica,’ she called.