Free The Loner by Rachel Ennis Page B

nodded, a lock of hair flopped over her forehead. She pushed it back. ‘She said most of the money people donate never reaches those it’s meant for. But by being there she can make a real difference.’ She wiped her nose again. ‘Do you have children?’
    â€˜Twin boys. They’re twenty-seven now. My husband was away working for much of our married life so I brought them up pretty much on my own. They were noisy, untidy, demanding, and could be great company. When they drove me mad I looked forward to the day they left home. Then it came, and I missed them terribly.’
    Claire fiddled with her mug, turning it round. ‘Did the house feel empty?’
    Jess gave a wry smile. ‘I expect it would have done if I’d had time to think about it. But I was looking after my elderly grandparents. Then Alex’s father had a stroke and moved in so I could look after him.’
    â€˜Was it a bad one?’
    â€˜It affected his left side and his speech so it was very frustrating for him.’
    â€˜Couldn’t he have gone into a home?’
    Jess shrugged. ‘It would have cost a fortune and he wanted the money to go to the boys.’
    â€˜Didn’t you resent it, having to look after him?’
    Jess wondered if Claire Griffin was always so direct. Maybe it was the alcohol talking.
    â€˜I told myself I didn’t, that it was best for him to be in familiar surroundings with a routine that gave him a sense of security. I thought I was dealing with it really well. Then one day I had a rotten headache and I got impatient with him. He told me to get out and leave him alone, he was sick of being treated like a child. He was shaking and I was in tears.’
    Resting her elbows on the table Claire sipped more tea. ‘What happened?’
    â€˜My GP recommended a retired district nurse who did private care for stroke patients. It wasn’t cheap, but it cost a lot less than if he’d gone into a home. She knew exactly how to handle him and wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. He preferred being looked after by a professional who wasn’t family. And I wasn’t so exhausted. So though it was awful at the time our row turned out to be a blessing.’
    â€˜Paul doesn’t row.’
    Jess lifted her mug. ‘Women’s magazines say men don’t like rows because women are better with words. But that wouldn’t apply to Paul.’
    â€˜Why wouldn’t it?’
    Was she serious? ‘He’s a vicar. He always has to find the right thing to say but he mustn’t sound goody-goody. He’s not allowed to lose his temper or break down even when everyone else is upset and crying.’ Jess shook her head. ‘I’d be useless.’
    Claire gazed into her mug. ‘His harem don’t like me.’
    It took a minute. ‘If you mean the ladies who arrange the flowers and run the church cleaning rota like a military operation, don’t take it personally. It wouldn’t matter if you were a combination of Mother Teresa and Dawn French, you’re the vicar’s wife so they resent you. Half of them have never been married and the vicar is their crush. Not only is he your husband, you also have a daughter doing a vital job in a dangerous place. Can’t you hear their teeth grinding?’
    A fleeting smile crossed Claire’s pale puffy face as she set her mug carefully on the table. ‘I’m so tired of being worried.’
    â€˜Then stop.’
    Claire gaped at her.
    â€˜All worry does is drain you. It doesn’t change anything.’
    â€˜That’s easy for you to say.’
    â€˜No, actually it isn’t. My husband died suddenly while he was abroad on a job. I didn’t know he had gambled away all our savings, remortgaged our house, and let his life insurance lapse. I lost everything. I came back to Polvellan because this was where I was born and brought up, and I started over. Then a few weeks ago