Page 37 of A Secret Escape

Connie’s heart was pounding. “Not awful at all. They’ve moved into the boathouse, and it’s a wonderful place to live. It’s right on the water. They couldn’t be happier.”

She said the words but couldn’t stop thinking about what Zoe had said about Milly crying herself to sleep.

And now she just wanted to get home before the anxiety could tighten its grip. She didn’t have the emotional energy for a picnic, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate enough to read a book.

“Anyway, back to the subject of the choir,” Paula said and smiled at her. “When are you coming back?”

“I’m not.” The words left Connie’s mouth without her even having to think about it. What she needed wasn’t sympathy, or reminders of everyone else’s perfect lives, or dire prophesies about how Richard’s actions might have wrecked Zoe’s future, and that was what she’d get if she went back to the choir. This was a small community. Everyone not only knew everyone else’s business but they had an opinion on it and didn’t hesitate to voice it.

There would be no escape or distraction because everyone would be asking about Milly.

Most people were well-meaning and genuinely caring (although she was starting to wonder about Paula), but if her objective was to fill her head with something else for a few hours, then choir wasn’t going to be the answer. Nor was book group or any of the other hobbies she’d enjoyed before Richard had walked out. She’d joined those groups because they were local. The convenience of proximity.

But that wasn’t what she needed or wanted.

Paula frowned. “But if Milly is doing well, why can’t you come back?”

“Because I have some exciting things going on at the moment, and I can’t make the commitment to rehearsals.” Eager to extract herself from the conversation as swiftly as possible, she chose a sourdough loaf and handed over her credit card. “But do give my love to everyone.”

Feeling a little sick, she left the bakery and walked along the street, her mind clouded by the past. There had been times early on when she’d worried about the impact of her own divorce on Milly, of course, but she’d been too busy holding everything together to dwell on it. She couldn’t change the fact that David had chosen to abandon his daughter, but was there something she could have done differently? Better?

Part of motherhood seemed to be adjusting to living in a permanent state of guilt.

She was frustrated with herself for letting Paula’s comments affect her so deeply. Just because another person said something didn’t mean it was true.

But now the niggle of worry was there, and she couldn’t remove it.

Her mother was right to be concerned that Connie had put everything on hold so that she could help Milly, and she needed to do something about that. But it was obvious to her now that she couldn’t go back to the things she’d been doing before. People knew too much about her and her situation.

She paused outside the library, scanning the notices in the window. Some of them had been there for so long they’d been faded by the sun.

Babysitter needed.

Gardener for hire.

Dog walker available.

It was all the usual things, including an ad for the hiking group her mother enjoyed so much.

Connie loved the fells and enjoyed being outdoors, but as much as she loved her mother the last thing she needed was to go hiking with her too. They’d end up talking about Milly and Zoe. They wouldn’t be able to help themselves. And anyway, she needed something different.

She was about to turn away when a small poster caught her eye.

Waterside Trekking—enjoy the beautiful Lake District scenery from horseback.

She felt a rush of nostalgia. As a child she’d loved horse riding, and for a short time she’d even dreamed of having her own pony, but it hadn’t been practical and eventually that hobby had drifted into the past along with so many other things.

She stared at the picture of the horse and rider trekking along the side of the lake with mountains stretching beyond. It looked so tranquil.

She shook herself. She was sixty. Far too old to take up riding again. Ridiculous. And anyway if she wanted to try riding, she could simply go to the local stables. Given the number of guests from Forest Nest that were sent their way, they’d probably give her a friendly rate. But again, that was too close to home. And she didn’t want to mix business with pleasure, even though her role in the business was much smaller than it once had been.

No, whatever she ended up doing as a distraction, she was going to do it away from her home turf.

She stared at the ad again and on impulse she pulled out her phone and dialed the number.

“Is that Waterside Trekking? I’d like to book a ride please— yes, a two-hour trek sounds perfect.” Did it? Would she survive two hours when she hadn’t been on a horse in years? She wouldn’t be able to walk afterward. “I’m not exactly a beginner, but it has been a while since I’ve ridden . . . How long? Oh, about forty-five years.” She cringed as she said it, but the woman on the other end of the phone didn’t seem alarmed or at all put-out by the fact that Connie wasn’t in the first flush of youth.

Nor did she recognize her name when Connie gave it. She didn’t ask how Milly was coping or whether it looked as if Zoe was going to be scarred for life.

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