Chapter 6
The following day she spends in the shop, busy with customers. Her phone rings and she turns it to silent. Later she sees there are several missed calls and a couple of texts from Owen. She ignores them. Back at home her phone rings again, and she sees Owen’s face appear on the screen. She is sitting in the kitchen, both hands holding a mug. She lets it ring out. A minute later the phone rings again. This time she answers, but doesn’t say anything.
“Naomi? I’ve been trying to reach you. Shall I come over?”
She says nothing for a few seconds, sipping her tea. “No, Owen, I’m sorry.”
“Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. But I need a break.”
”What do you mean, a break?”
“You know what I mean. From you. From the shop. From everything. I’m going to leave Andy in charge for a bit.”
“What about me?”
“I’ve told Andy to go back to the old suppliers. I’m going back to the start. First principles if you like. I don’t need you. Don’t make this hard.”
“But what about you and me? How long do you need? I can give you space.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“I’ll come round.”
“No, don’t.” She pauses, “and don’t call again, not for now.”
She ends the call, and for a few minutes stands looking at the kitchen table. Then remembering yoga classes that she used to go to she stretches out into child’s pose on the kitchen floor, slowing her breathing, stretching her hips and shoulders.
After a few minutes she stands, and from its place on the shelf Adam’s phone buzzes. Without thinking she checks the time on her watch, and then with a start she smiles. She goes through to the study, Adam’s room as she now thinks of it. She closes her eyes, breathing deeply, relaxed now, at peace for the first time in weeks. Adam’s scent is hardly noticeable now, but it isn’t hard to remember him here. She can see him sitting at his desk, packets of pills in front of him, Hockney on the wall watching him, recording the last message into his phone. She sits down at the desk and runs her hand over the woodgrain, feeling the texture and colour of the old oak surface. She opens the drawers one by one, realising that she hasn’t done this since he died. So much to sort out. There are the usual things you would expect, spare printer cartridges, Bic biros, a spare pair of glasses, a drawer with mints, pain killers and tablets to relieve his muscle stiffness.
In the bottom drawer is a yellow silk scarf and folded inside a familiar necklace, an egg-shaped piece of black marble on a silver chain.
THE END
© Anthony Judge 2022