Andrew thought about what he might have done if somewhere down the line someone had offered him companionship. All he could really picture, unhelpfully, was a Jehovah’s witness standing at his door. But that figured, because, truth be told, he’d have rejected help outright. He said as much to Peggy.
“But it doesn’t have to be like that,” she said. “I wanted to talk to you about this, actually. I mean, I haven’t exactly got it all mapped out, but . . .”
She began to rout around in her bag, producing empty water bottles, an old apple core, a half-empty bag of sweets and fistfuls of receipts. Andrew watched, mesmerized, as she swore and continued to pull things out like an angry magician. Eventually she found what she’d been looking for.
“So it’s just a rough outline,” she said, smoothing out a piece of paper. “Really rough, actually, but it’s a summary of what a campaign to help people could look like. The gist of it is that people can apply to have the option of a phone call or a visit from volunteers. And the thing is it doesn’t matter if you’re a little old lady or a thirty-something high flyer. It just gives you the option of having someone you can connect with.”
Andrew studied the paper. He was aware that Peggy was watching him anxiously.
“What?” she said. “Is it mental?”
“No. It absolutely isn’t. I love it. I just wish you’d told me about it sooner.”
Peggy narrowed her eyes.
“What?” Andrew said.
“Oh, nothing,” Peggy said. “I was just thinking about a moment in Sainsbury’s about a week ago when I nearly punched you in your stupid face.”
“. . . Right,” Andrew said, deciding not to probe that one any further.
“There’s something else I want to show you too,” Peggy said, reaching into her Tardis bag again and pulling out her phone. “Obviously it’s a bit too late to help poor old Josephine find company, bless her, but what do you reckon about this?” She passed her phone over to Andrew, who wiped his fingers on a paper napkin before he took it. It was a post Peggy had drafted in Facebook.
“You know what?” Andrew said, once he’d finished reading it.
“What?”
“You’re actually brilliant.”
Andrew wouldn’t have thought Peggy capable of blushing, but her cheeks were definitely tinged pink.
“So shall I post it?” she said.
“Abso-bloody-lutely,” Andrew said. He handed her phone back and watched her upload the post just as his own phone started to ring.
“Yes, no, I understand, thanks, but like I said that’s out of my price range, I’m afraid. Okay, thank you, bye.”
“‘Out of my price range, I’m afraid,’” Peggy said. “Are you buying a yacht or something?”
“That’s next on the list, obviously. For now, I’m trying to move house.”
“Wow. Really?”
“I think it’s for the best. Time to move on.”
“So now you’re experiencing the joy of speaking to all those lovely lettings agents.”
“Yep. I’ve never had so many people lie to me in such a short space of time.”
“You have much to learn, my friend.”
Andrew rubbed his eyes and yawned. “All I want is to live in a converted train station on top of a mountain with sea views and Wi-Fi and easy access to central London, is that so much to ask?”
“Have another cookie,” Peggy said, patting him on the top of the head.
—
They were nearly back at the office—despite coming close to making an executive decision to dedicate the afternoon to Scrabble in the pub.
Andrew had been building up the courage, again, to ask whether Peggy had overheard him in Rupert’s kitchen, and this felt like the most opportune moment he’d had in the last few days.
“So, the other night . . .”
But he didn’t get a chance to finish, because Peggy suddenly grabbed his arm. “Look,” she muttered.
Cameron had arrived at the office ahead of them and was skipping nimbly up the stairs. He stopped to search for his building pass, only finding it once Andrew and Peggy had caught up with him.
“Hi, Cameron,” Peggy said. “We weren’t expecting you back till next week.”
Cameron busied himself with his phone as he spoke. “Had to come back early,” he said. “Last day of the course got canceled. Salmonella, it would seem. I’m the only one who managed to escape it. Well, hopefully,” he added.
The three of them walked down the corridor in silence. When they got to their office Cameron held the door open so Peggy could go through, then turned to Andrew and said, “Could we have a quick word in my office when you have a moment?”
“Sure,” Andrew said. “Can I ask wha—”
“See you in a minute then,” Cameron said, walking away before Andrew could say anything else. He didn’t know exactly what was coming, but he could make a reasonable guess that he wasn’t going to be awarded a knighthood.
A few weeks ago he would have been panic-stricken. But not anymore. He was ready for this. He dumped his stuff by his desk and made his way straight to Cameron’s office.
“Andrew,” Peggy hissed from across the room, her eyes wide with concern.
He smiled at her.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
— CHAPTER 38 —
Another day, another funeral.
Today was the day Josephine Murray said good-bye to the world, and Andrew was the only one returning her farewell. He shifted his position on the creaky pew and exchanged smiles with the vicar. When Andrew had greeted him earlier that morning it had taken him a moment to realize he was actually the floppy-haired youngster whom he’d watched conduct his very first funeral service. Though that had only been earlier that year, he already looked to have aged considerably. It wasn’t just that his hair was neater, in a more conservative side parting, it was also in the way that he carried himself—it was more assured. Andrew felt oddly paternal, seeing how much he seemed to have matured. They had spoken briefly on the phone beforehand and Andrew, after discussing it with Peggy, had decided to relate parts of Josephine’s diary so that the vicar was able to add a bit more color to the service, and make it more personal.
Andrew swiveled to look to the back of the church. Where, then, was Peggy?
The vicar approached. “I’ll give it another minute or so, but then I’ll really need to start, I’m afraid,” he said.
“Of course, I understand,” Andrew said.
“How many were you expecting?”
That was the problem. Andrew didn’t have a clue. It all depended on how Peggy had gotten on.
“Don’t worry too much,” he said. “I don’t want to cause a holdup.”
But just then the church door swung open, and there was Peggy. She looked flustered at first, but then relief flooded her face when she saw that the service hadn’t started yet. She held the door for someone behind her—there was at least one other person, then—and made her way up the aisle. Andrew watched as first one, then two, then three people came in after her. There was a short gap, and then, to Andrew’s amazement, a steady stream of people filed in until he lost count at over thirty.
Peggy arrived next to him. “So sorry we’re late,” she whispered. “We had a decent response on the Facebook page but then we managed to round up a few people from Bob’s Café across the road last minute.” She nodded at a man wearing a blue and white checked apron. “Including Bob!”
The vicar waited until everyone was seated before making his way to his lectern. After the initial formalities he decided—spontaneously, it looked to Andrew—to leave his lectern, and his notes with it, so that he could be nearer to the congregation.