Page 78 of The Second Chance Supper Club

Nikki got down to business swiftly. ‘So hun, what really is going on between you and Will?’

Darn it, there was nowhere to hide. ‘Oh, Nikki. It’s complicated. We’ll work it out between us somehow, I’m sure.’ Her words were more hopeful than she actually believed.

‘Hmm … and you’re sure you can’t tell me anything? Just a snippet?’

‘No, sorry, Niks, it doesn’t seem right to, not yet. And please, don’t mention anything to anyone else in the group.’

‘Of course not, I’m not that daft … I’m no meddler. But if you ever want to chat, you know where I am.’ She placed a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

‘I know, and thank you.’

Cath didn’t know where any of this with Will was going herself. She was still trying to process it. Clinging on to the hope that somehow there was a way they might sort things out, at least to continue as friends.

Cath and Nikki walked across the village to deliver the food parcel, intending to be discreet and leave the basket on the step, after politely ringing the bell. But just as they pressed the buzzer and were about to step away, Will arrived with his freshly ground coffee, and a six-pack of local ales.

‘Hey.’ He gave a cautious smile, but then there was an awkward pause, with Nikki looking from Cath to Will and back again, her expression bemused.

‘Do I need to bang your heads together now or later?’ Nikki couldn’t help herself.

‘Ah,’ Will floundered. He then popped his offering down beside their laden food basket.

In the meantime, the back door to the shop opened, and the two lads were standing there.

‘Oh, what’s all this, then?’ Dan asked, looking bemused. ‘Hello, my loves. What’s going on here?’ A pale and drawn-looking Andreas was there too.

‘We are so sorry for your loss, boys,’ said Nikki.

‘Umm, we were just going to leave this here for you. We don’t want to intrude,’ explained Cath. ‘A little Red Cross parcel.’

‘Just some foodie bits,’ Nikki added. ‘From Lily too.’ ‘And a few beers,’ Will finished. ‘Sorry to hear the news, lads.’

‘You’re beginning to sound like the three bloody Musketeers!’ Dan managed to smile. ‘But, it’s nice to see you.’

‘Aw, you lot … Come here.’ Andreas opened his arms wide.

Cath couldn’t help but smile, a happy-sad smile. And as they finally pulled away from a warm group hug, the lads peered into the basket, delighted with their gifts. ‘Oh, that’s so very kind and thoughtful.’ There were tears and even more hugs all round.

‘You can come in, you know …’ Andreas said, once they’d all stepped apart, opening the door wider for them. Yet, he stood there looking wracked with grief.

‘No … thanks, lads, but not right now. It’s very lovely of you, but I think you might just need a bit of time out.’ Cath was firm, her tone caring.

‘We’ll catch up very soon though, guys,’ Nikki added. ‘You take care of yourselves.’

‘And if there’s anything at all we can do, let us know,’ Cath said.

‘Absolutely,’ Will chipped in. ‘D’Artagnan at your service.’

The lads couldn’t help smiling at that.

Maria’s funeral took place eight days later at the old stone church in Kirkton, where just a few years before, she used to help with the flowers. She’d initially had a small bungalow in the town, after moving up from London to be nearer to Andreas, before becoming frail and having to move into the care home. A city girl who’d quickly grown to love her Northumberland countryside home – much like Cath.

It was sunshine and showers on the day of the service, and inside the church were colourful displays of carnations and scented freesias, roses, gerberas and lilies – all of Maria’s favourites. The supper club gathered in one of the wooden pews to show their respects and to give their support – Will, then Nikki and Lily, and Cath in a line.

Will looked pale and was particularly quiet. He was standing there, oh so handsome in his smart black suit, but seemed lost. Cath wondered if being at a funeral was bringing it all back to him. Could this be the church where he had lain his wife to rest? Her heart went out to him.

They’d been asked to wear black but with a splash of colour. Ties and scarves, blouses and shirts in all kinds of bold shades lifted the sombre attire, and the flowers on the wooden coffin were an array of summer blooms, in oranges and purples, yellows and reds.

There were readings, one especially heartfelt by Andreas – who just managed to make it through, with the supper group willing him on. Songs that filled the ancient space, the congregation being in good voice, and a poignant poem read by her daughter, Andreas’s older sister, Alexandria, with not a dry eye left in the church. A real celebration of her life. From the family stories and tributes, and the many friends and relatives gathered, she’d been a well-loved lady, who’d had a good and full life.