Coming Home to the Highlands, page 27
‘It’s Heimlich, Geoffrey. The Heimlich manoeuvre. Hendrick’s is gin, for goodness sake, you silly old fool.’
‘Could it be a heart attack?’
‘Should we call an ambulance?’
Someone had thrust a paper bag into her hand and a soft Irish accent had said, ‘It’s a panic attack, here, love, breathe into this.’ A smiling, older woman came into view as she crouched before her. ‘Try to slow your breathing, love. In through your nose… out through your mouth. Nice and easy. That’s it. You’re doing grand. You’ll be fine. Just keep your eyes on me and listen to what I’m saying…’
Doing as she was instructed, Juliette’s breathing began to calm, but she was then overtaken by pained sobs; a combination of embarrassment at the crowd around her and horror at the fact she had chosen to go on a date with a carbon copy of her dead husband. This only went to prove that she hadn’t moved on at all. She hadn’t made the inroads into recovery that she’d thought. She’d felt foolish and incredibly guilty for putting Peter through this whole disaster.
The woman, who introduced herself as Linda Clancy, a retired mental health nurse, had comforted her and tried to reassure her that she had no reason to be embarrassed. That these things had a habit of creeping up on you even if you weren’t noticeably feeling anxious. Linda had tried to explain things to Peter too, but he didn’t appear to be taking it in; nodding blankly as he sat there, pale and clearly shaken by the whole ordeal. Juliette guessed he was probably mortally horrified, wondering what kind of nutjob he’d been set up with.
Once she was reasonably calm, and everyone had gone back to their own conversations, Juliette had excused herself to go to the bathroom. Once she had splashed her face with cold water and examined her blotchy, swollen reflection, she’d realised she couldn’t face Peter again. He’d no doubt never call her again after this anyway, so she’d decided to make it easier for him. She snuck out of the restaurant and darted into the adjacent alleyway, finding herself in the midst of a torrential downpour.
When Juliette finished recounting the horrendous evening, Millie reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘Oh, honey. I’m so sorry I pushed you into it. I feel terrible. Here I am trying to sort out your love life and I can’t even find one of my own.’
Juliette shook her head. ‘No, no it’s not your fault. I should’ve known better than to think I was ready. I thought two years was a good length of time to grieve. Although now I’m not entirely sure there is a time limit on such things.’ She wondered silently to herself if, in fact, she would ever really get over losing Laurie.
There were so many firsts for a married couple: first dance as man and wife, first anniversary, first child if they were lucky, but for Juliette, she was still facing all the firsts that come when you lose someone you consider to be a part of yourself. She would never get used to the empty side of the bed. When she woke each morning, the first thing she wanted to do was to snuggle up to her husband, only to be brought back to earth with a resounding thud when reality hit and she remembered that would never happen again. She would never get over the fact that she wouldn’t hold their first-born child as he gazed lovingly at them both, because that chance had been stolen from them by his cancer. She would never get used to the times when something funny happened and she was momentarily taken with the urge to text Laurie to tell him all about it, only to remember that there was no one holding his phone at the other end of the airwaves. She would never get used to watching a sad movie and having no one there to pull her into his arms to soothe her sadness and kiss away her tears. Because now, all that remained was the empty space that her husband used to occupy, both on the earth and in her heart. The Laurie-shaped hole that would never heal.
Millie opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it again and took a sip of her wine.
Juliette could tell when her friend had things to say and wasn’t willing to let it go so easily. ‘Come on, Millie, out with it.’
Millie placed her empty glass on the coffee table. ‘It’s just that… the more I think about it, the more I wonder if you really did grieve. You threw yourself back into work. You carried on volunteering at the Shelter charity shop on your weekends. You didn’t really take time for you until your mental health forced the issue. And then you were so busy dealing with depression that I don’t think you really had a chance to grieve.’
She possibly had a point. ‘I thought keeping busy would help. Clearly, I was wrong about that too, considering I almost had a nervous breakdown.’ After nursing her sick husband, Juliette had descended into the type of depression that consumes and devours. Medication and counselling had followed, but it had been a long journey.
‘Exactly. Maybe you need to really deal with it. Allow yourself some time away, perhaps?’
Juliette tried to make light of the situation. ‘You’re just trying to get rid of me because I keep forcing my cooking on you.’ It was true. Spending time alone wasn’t something she enjoyed, and she invited her older brother, Dexter, who also lived locally, and Millie around at every possible opportunity. It was a shame her cooking wasn’t improving in the slightest, even with all the practice.
Millie laughed good-naturedly. ‘You know that’s not what I mean. Maybe you need to head off somewhere warm and relaxing?’
‘You mean like every holiday Laurie and I ever took together?’
Millie cringed. ‘Okay, fair point. Maybe go snowboarding in the Alps or something then? But just take the time and space to let yourself heal. You nursed Laurie through his illness, but now you need to take care of you.’
Again, she was making sense and Juliette resolved to seriously consider Millie’s suggestion. In the short amount of time she’d had with Laurie, they’d sunk their toes into the soft white sand of Caribbean beaches and had experienced the pretty wooden huts and the crystal-clear, turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. Perhaps a trip somewhere completely different was a great way of moving on? Of becoming Juliette Fairhurst instead of Professor Laurence Fairhurst’s poor widow.
As Juliette lay in Millie’s spare bed later that night, she thought about her parents. How much she’d missed them since she had moved away from County Durham to Gloucester. How easy things were when she was a little girl sitting on her mum’s lap as she serenaded her with the enchanting words and tune of the ‘Skye Boat Song’. Her mum used to tell her many stories of her childhood growing up on the Isle of Skye until her own parents moved to the mainland when she was ten. From a young age, Juliette vowed to one day visit the island of her mother’s birth to discover the magic for herself, and had talked about it with Laurie on so many occasions. Sadly, he was given a terminal diagnosis which put paid to further holidays. Even though he promised he’d take her one day.
The following morning, Juliette was sitting in Millie’s lounge, drinking her first cup of tea of the day, and she picked up a magazine from the coffee table. An article titled Does It Always Rain in Scotland? caught her eye and she thumbed through the pages until she reached a stunning photograph of the Cuillin Hills on the Isle of Skye. The backdrop of the naturally sculptured rocks was an almost cloudless, cobalt sky. A lone person stood in silhouette, arms outspread, head tilted towards the sun, and a shiver travelled along Juliette’s spine. It was as if the article was meant to be seen by her. It was as if Laurie was saying, ‘Yes! Do it! Go to the place we never got to visit.’ And she knew she would listen.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lisa Hobman has written many brilliantly reviewed women’s fiction titles - the first of which was shortlisted by the RNA for their debut novel award. In 2012 Lisa relocated her family from Yorkshire to a village in Scotland and this beautiful backdrop now inspires her uplifting and romantic stories.
Visit Lisa’s website: http://www.lisajhobman.com
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First published in Great Britain in 2023 by Boldwood Books Ltd.
Copyright © Lisa Hobman, 2023
Cover Design by Alexandra Allden
Cover Photography: Shutterstock
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Lisa Hobman, Coming Home to the Highlands
