Free The Older Man by Laurey Bright Page A

But you know, even grown-ups need comfort when they’re sad. A hug or a cuddle is nice.”
    Toby looked slightly suspicious. “I don’t want a hug,” he stated firmly.
    “That’s okay.”
    “Sometimes I do,” he conceded. “But not today.”
    “That’s fine. I want them sometimes too.”
    Ellen lifted her head and turned to look at Rennie. Then she wriggled round and flung her arms about Rennie’s neck.
    “Thank you, Ellen,” Rennie said. “That’s a lovely hug.”
    When Grant murmured, “Toby and I have to go,” Ellen became tearful again, but after repeated assurances that he would be back in time for tea, in the end reluctantly released him.
    Rennie managed to keep her fairly well occupied and reasonably happy, although now and then her mouth would droop and her eyes take on a puzzled and saddened expression, but she asked no questions. Rennie dispensed hugs and stories, and invented games, and hoped that she was doing the right things.
    In a corner of the lounge a table had been set up with cups and saucers, and some biscuits and cakes covered by a cloth. Obviously Grant was expecting people to come back after the funeral.
    When he arrived, three or four other cars drew up behind his. Ellen ran to the door to meet him as he opened it, wound her arms about his legs and clung. Toby, looking pale and red-eyed, stood stolidly at his father’s side, and Rennie smiled at him and moved forward to take his hand and draw him into the house as Grant picked the little girl up.
    “I’ll put on the kettle if you like,” she told Grant.
    “Thanks.”
    “Want to come and help, Toby?” she asked.
    He nodded.
    A couple of women came into the kitchen almost immediately. Rennie gathered that they were neighbours. They efficiently poured tea and coffee, and Toby was pressed into service handing round plates of biscuits. “Better to keep him busy, poor mite,” one of the women said practically. Rennie was relieved to see the colour coming back into his cheeks.
    Another woman asked Rennie, as she placed a sugar bowl on a tray, “Have you had much experience with children?”
    “I’ve done a lot of babysitting,” Rennie said. “Ellen and Toby are very good.”
    “Yes, Jean did a fine job. Never raised her voice. And yet the house always looked spotless — well, relatively, anyway. Made me feel like a total slob, and a harridan.”
    Rennie smiled. “You were friends?”
    “I suppose,” the woman said rather doubtfully. “We got on, and she was always willing to help if I got sick or anything. There aren’t many of us stay-at-home mums left, and we have to stick together. I admired her. It can’t have been easy after her husband left her.”
    “Wasn’t it a mutual decision?” Rennie asked involuntarily.
    The woman shrugged. “It was before we came to live here. She never said much, but I got the impression that he was a bit of a cold fish. Well, I suppose she was disillusioned. He seems nice enough. Oh,” she added guiltily. “I shouldn’t be gossiping about him to you.”
    Rennie stayed in the kitchen as much possible, not wanting to intrude on the grief of people who had known Jean. But she had to emerge eventually, and Grant, still holding Ellen in his arms, introduced her to a number of people before she unobtrusively edged her way out of the room and returned to the kitchen with some cups to wash.
    When the visitors had all left, Grant came in holding Ellen’s hand. “Thanks a lot, Rennie,” he said. “I’ll run you home in the car.”
    He couldn’t leave the children, he would have to bring them as well. Ellen looked sleepy, Toby had already been subjected to a stressful day, and Grant himself was showing signs of strain about his eyes and mouth.
    “No,” she said. “I can find my own way home. But I don’t need to go yet, if there’s something more I can do.”
    He smiled wearily. “That’s kind, but we’ve imposed enough. You needn’t stay any longer.”
    “Why can’t Rennie