Page 81 of Be Less Panda

‘This isn’t goodbye, is it? Please say it’s not.’

Nancy hesitated. It should be. She’d wanted to solve the mystery of what had happened to Hans, and she’d done that today. Rekindling their old relationship would bring up even more painful memories. But it would be stupid to throw away what they’d clearly still got. She’d felt alive this evening in every way. There were parts of her that wanted her to stay.

And we know which parts those are, Nancy! You said when Xander died, you would finish your days in Dashford doing all the things you loved without a man holding you back.

This was so difficult. ‘I don’t think you could cope with me,’ she said.

‘Try me,’ he smiled. ‘Your son’s nagging you to go home because of this virus. My daughter is doing the same to me. Why don’t we keep them happy but carry on talking on the phone and then see where it goes? I have so much more to tell you. I’m guessing you haven’t told me everything yet either.’

‘Dirty stop out,’ Olivia said as Nancy crept quietly into their room. ‘What time do you call this?’

‘I thought you’d be fast asleep.’ Nancy was disappointed that Olivia was wide awake. She was hoping for some peace and quiet to think through what had happened tonight.

‘Unfortunately for you, I’m often awake in the middle of the night. So what have you and Klaus been up to that kept you out till 3 am?’

‘We had a lot of catching up to do.’

Olivia raised an eyebrow. ‘I bet you did. And where did you do that?’

‘Mostly in his hotel room,’ Nancy smiled to herself.

Olivia became serious. ‘Did you tell him everything that happened after he disappeared?’

‘Not quite.’

‘But surely you going to?’

‘I haven’t decided yet.’

‘If you and he are going to have a serious relationship again, you will have to be totally honest with him.’

‘Yes, I know. That’s what scares me.’

Part Four

March 2020

38

Nancy walked into the kitchen at Dashford Grange to make another cup of tea. How many was that now? At least four this morning, and it was only 10 o’clock. This whole lockdown thing was bloody ridiculous, being stuck in this huge house with no one to talk to. What a way to spend your 76th year on the planet.

Don’t wallow in self-pity, Nancy Smith. At least you’re not Em.The poor girl was having to isolate at home. She’d been so excited at being pregnant, and now this damn virus was potentially a threat to her and the baby, as if pregnancy wasn’t worrying enough.

Come on, Nancy. Yesterday wasn’t too bad.After the prime minister’s announcement on Monday night, Nancy had received an influx of emails from guests requesting to cancel their spring breaks or asking how lockdown might affect their summer holidays. Replying and sorting out all their refunds had kept her busy for most of Tuesday, but now that the flurry of activity was over, she was twiddling her thumbs.

The Dashford Women’s Wild Swimming sessions had been suspended, Julie had phoned to say Pilates was off until further notice and, to top it all, she’d just received an email saying her hang gliding weekend next month had been cancelled. An hour’s walk a day was no substitute for all that.

And then there was Klaus. They’d both been hoping he could visit her in Devon soon, but that was out of the question now. Yes, they could carry on talking on the phone like they had been doing virtually every day since she’d come back from France, but it wasn’t the same as physically being together. She felt a warm glow at the memory of that last night in Paris.Don’t think about what you’re missing!How bloody cruel life was, allowing them to find one another again, only to keep them nearly 800 miles apart.

It would be just after 9 am in Berlin. He’d apologised for being too busy for a phone call yesterday. Perhaps he was around now. She texted him.

Good Morning, darling. Have you got time for a chat? Xx

The message status changed to “delivered” almost immediately but he didn’t reply. Nancy sighed. It had been rather optimistic to expect him to be waiting by the phone.

She started tidying the kitchen. As she was removing an out-of-date bag of salad from the fridge, she heard her phone buzz. At last! She eagerly pulled it out of her pocket. But it wasn’t Klaus.

Clive, the decorator, wanted to confirm that the paint colour he’d got for Rose Cottage’s living room feature wall was correct. Strictly speaking, he shouldn’t be working but they’d agreed as he was alone in the cottages and he could walk there from his house, it made no sense for him not to finish the refurbishment project. It wasn’t as if it was putting anyone at extra risk of catching Covid.