that soon, he would be faced with a terrible truth.
She looked up at her husband, her adoring gaze drawing his image into her soul. ‘Harry?’
He stooped to her. ‘Yes, sweetheart?’
‘Thank you for today,’ she told him. ‘You’ve given me the best day of my life.’
Deeply moved, Harry held her close. ‘Oh Sara, I miss you so much,’ he confessed brokenly. ‘I miss holding you when we go to bed, and waking up next to you in the morning. I miss watching you when you potter about in the garden … and hearing your awful singing when you’re doing the dishes.’ They both smiled at that. ‘All those familiar things that we took for granted, I miss them desperately. But most of all, I miss our life together.’
Choking on his words, he gulped back the emotion. ‘Sorry, sweetheart. I try to be strong, but now and then it swamps me. I feel ashamed, because it’s you I should be concerned about. Not myself.’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Harry. It’s out of our hands now, and however much we want to, we can’t change that.’
As Sara ran the palm of her hand over Harry’s bowed shoulders, not for the first time she realised that, in a different way, Harry’s pain was every bit as crippling as her own.
‘All those things you said – I miss them too,’ she confided lovingly. ‘But you and me, Harry, we should be counting our blessings. We’ve been given so much – a happy life together, a darling boy, and now just look at us: here we are, sitting in the sunshine, holding each other, when there are so many people in this world who will never know how wonderful that feels. When you think about it, Harry, we haven’t done so bad, have we, eh?’
Harry shook his head in admiration. ‘You never cease to amaze me. You’ve always been able to see the best in a bad situation,’ he said. ‘And that’s another thing I love about you.’
Just then, Tom jumped off the bench and began running down the steep bank, towards the lake. ‘No, Tom! Get back here!’ Harry shouted. But the boy kept running, veering this way then that, and thinking it was all a game.
‘Go on, Harry.’ Sara had every faith in him. ‘Go get him!’ And when Harry took off at the run, she yelled encouragement. ‘Come on, you can do it! You’ve got long legs and he’s only little!’ Harry had to laugh at that, and when Tom shot off towards the shrubbery, he paused for breath, before setting off again. ‘All right Tom, that’s enough! Game over, come on now!’
Breathless now, it crossed his mind that he wasn’t as fit as he should be. ‘Tom! Your mammy’s waiting to go home!’
It wasn’t long before he had the runaway in his arms. ‘You and your mammy are two of a kind,’ Harry panted then threw him over his shoulder, until Tom squealed with laughter. Then when Harry tickled his ribs, the boy was almost hysterical.
They went along the path and up the bank, towards the spot where Sara was waiting, ‘This boy takes after you,’ Harry called ahead. ‘Disobedient and wilful, that’s what he is.’
As they drew closer, Harry continued to lightheartedly tease and grumble. ‘Oh yes, he’s definitely taken after his mother. It’s no good, Sara, you’re gonna have to get him under control, because he doesn’t listen to a word I say …’ He stopped in his tracks. Something was wrong! He could sense it.
Swinging Tom from his shoulders, he ran forward. ‘Sara! … Oh dear God … my SARA!’ But Sara was gone from this world, and when he took her in his arms, he knew her pain was over.
Passionately, he folded her to his heart, remembering the words she had said only minutes ago. ‘This is the best day of my life.’ But it was small consolation. Sara had left them behind, and he was devastated.
Instinctively, Harry caught his son to him, and together they held her – until a passing couple came to their aid.
When he thought about it later, Harry could never remember covering those last few paces to Sara. He recalled the very moment when he realised something was wrong. He felt the weight of his son on his shoulders, and he remembered swinging Tom to the ground.
But that was all; until he had Sara in his arms.
Too young, too vibrant, she had lost her fight to live.
She was at peace now; and in that agonising time when he held her, Harry thought she was more beautiful than he could ever remember.
The following week in the pretty church overlooking the shoreline, there were many tears at Sara’s untimely departure and great joy at having known her as Harry and little Tom, proud and broken, led the congregation outside, to the well-tended, colourful garden. There on the bank on a glorious August day, they laid her to rest, facing the view she had always loved.
There followed a well-set-out tea in Sara’s cosy home, where the neighbours had pulled together and taken charge.
Afterwards, when everyone was gone, Harry spoke with his son. ‘Your mammy is safe now,’ he promised him gently. ‘Someone very special is looking after her now.’
Tom flung his arms round his daddy and sobbed until it seemed he would never stop. After a time, he fell asleep in Harry’s arms, whereupon with great tenderness, his father carried him to the couch and covered him over.
With those tiny arms around his neck, Harry had felt the unforgiving burden of grief like never before.
Looking down now on that small, innocent face so much like his mammy’s, Harry’s heart turned over. ‘Look out for us, my darling,’ he wept, and glanced towards the window as though talking to some unseen person. ‘Help me to make the right decisions.’
On the last day of August, Harry and his son stood at the door of their home and watched their furniture being loaded up. ‘Have you kept back everything you need, son?’ Harry wanted the boy to be sure.
Tom held up the raggedy lop-eared dog. ‘I’ve got Loppy,’ he said, and gave the shadow of a smile.
‘Are you sure he’s all you want to take with you?’
The boy confirmed this with a nod.
‘It’s your last chance, Tom. If there’s anything else you need, you have to say so now, before the wagon leaves.’
‘I only need Loppy.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
Striding down the drive, Harry spoke with the burly driver. ‘You can take it away now,’ he instructed. ‘Oh, and you won’t forget, will you,’ he pointed to a large tea-chest marked Personal, ‘that that one does not go in the sale. It goes into storage.’
The driver perused his clipboard. ‘I’ve got it all written down, sir. Don’t worry, everything will be taken care of.’
‘And you’ve got the forwarding address for the documents and such?’
The driver tapped his clipboard. ‘Like I say, it’s all written down here.’
‘Good.’ Taking his wallet from his back pocket, Harry slipped the driver two pound notes. ‘Thanks. You and your mate have done a good job.’
The driver stuffed the notes in his pocket. ‘Much appreciated, sir.’
‘You will be careful with it all, won’t you? I mean, try not to damage anything?’ Buried under cardboard boxes, he could see the well-worn armchair that both he and Sara had sat on many times; in particular he recalled the evening when she had perched on his knee in that very chair and told him she was expecting their first – and now only – child.
‘We’ll treat your belongings with respect, sir.’ At the onset of this job, the driver had been acquainted with Harry’s circumstances, causing him to be grateful for his own happy marriage and five healthy children.
Harry thanked