Page 76 of Wild About You

She was silent.

‘I couldn’t ruin his life.’ I picked at a stray thread on my jumper.

The tapping resumed. ‘The children. I suppose I get it. What I don’t get is encouraging him to rebound with Lucinda.’

‘I wanted to help,’ I said lamely. ‘He’s a sensible man.’

‘Not at the moment. I’m going to do my best to slow this engagement down.’

‘It’s really none of my business. I’m leaving, anyway.’

She sighed again. ‘He just told me. Just ask Lucinda what he likes. I have to go. Bye.’ A soft click indicated her departure.

I could hear the beagles hallooing in their paddock as I trailed back to the office. I closed my eyes against the emotions that were battering me.

‘You look sad,’ said Tobias, as I sat down at my desk. ‘Hon?’

‘I’m leaving,’ I said. There was no point in waiting – it was best everyone knew, asap. ‘I have to serve three months’ notice, so not yet.’

I avoided Fi’s gaze, and batted away their questions. I could practicallyfeelthem swapping worried glances so I took a quick look at Forestcam then started working with an intensely focused efficiency that they didn’t dare to interrupt. I was in the middle of a phone conversation with Keith about placing an order of bare root wild pear trees when a flash of movement outside the window caught my eye: Lucinda, leading one of her horses across the drive.

I was out of my chair in a second, feeling the eyes of my colleagues on my back, hurtling through the office door.

‘Lucinda,’ I said.

She turned and frowned. When I’d first known her, she’d done nothing but smile, but it seemed as though she was out of supply now.

‘What’s Jamie’s favourite food?’

She looked up sharply, her eyes wide. ‘What?’

I repeated the question.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘We were just talking about family members and their food fads. I’m just taking a quick straw poll. It’s an event I’m thinking of running in the kitchen garden.’ Wow, my lying skills were ramping up.

I saw her struggle with uncertainty. Then she gave a little sigh. ‘Steak frites,’ she said.

‘Right,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’

I walked away from her, and away from the house. I needed to be outside. As I walked, I tried to put Roshni’s words to the back of my mind. Surely Lucinda loved Jamie? How could she not? When I got to the Mulholland Oak, an ancient tree at the heart of the estate, I sat down beneath its branches, and stared out at the landscape I’d learned to love. With absolutely no idea what to do.

CHAPTER 23

The next month passed slowly as autumn settled over Stonemore. I talked myself into thinking Lucinda and Jamie’s marriage was a good thing, and that Roshni had been mistaken. Meanwhile, the office had a muted atmosphere. Callum never reproved me for resigning, but the air of sadness he wore when he greeted me was reproach enough. Fi understood my reasons for going, but still asked me ‘Are you sure?’ every couple of days. In the evenings, I often took refuge in her and Richard’s kitchen, like a clingy house guest who refuses to leave. I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible before I went. They had turned their spare room into a nursery, and I sat with Fi, browsing online for cots and musical mobiles, promising I would make regular ‘auntie visits’ once the baby had arrived.

After a Zoom interview with a conservation charity based in London – this time everyone turned their cameraon, unlike the Stonemore one – I was offered a job. Rose offered to put me up until I could get established again, and I booked a storage unit for my stuff.

But somehow it still felt unreal, as though I was planning someone else’s departure, someone else’s life. When I asked Fi whether Jamie had started recruiting for my role, she just shook her head.

One thing Jamie had done was refuse Lucinda’s request to hire an event planner for the wedding. Tally had commenced mood-boarding and thinking about menu choices, but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Lucinda was planning a Christmas-themed wedding, to take place on the last day of December. When Tally started having a meltdown about colour schemes, I went out into the fresh air and worked on the estate.

I also unblocked Sean, and messages from him began to trickle through, often on Sunday evenings, when he’d always tended to feel a bit melancholy. I kept my responses friendly but distant, an approach I found remarkably easy to cultivate.

And I completely stopped journalling. Because even when I picked up my pen, I found there was nothing to write. All I felt was that old, familiar numbness.

‘Congratulations.’

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