Page 12 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“They’re still hopeful, aren’t they?” Anna asked, a note of anxiety creeping into her voice. Harriet had seemed so loved up, but she hadn’t wanted to press about the new relationship, or really, about anything.
“Yes. They’re good. Really good.” Harriet glanced down at her tea, tracing the rim of her cup with one finger. “But you can’t just turn feelings off like a tap,” she continued slowly. “And as much as I want to let go of the anger—well, part of me does—I can’t.” She glanced at her, a miserable look on her face. “And the truth is, having you here…it stirs everything up, in me. Every time I come into the kitchen and see you’ve, I don’t know, washed a dish or justbeenhere…I feel angry.” She held up a hand to stop Anna from speaking, although in truth she wasn’t sure what she would say. “I know that sounds awful. Itisawful, and I’m sorry. I don’t want to feel that way, I’m trying not to…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “It’s just hard.”
And it was made harder by her being here, Anna realised. Shehadbeen right; she was making things more difficult, even when she was trying to be as unassuming and innocuous as possible. She was stillhere. But, Anna knew, she still didn’t want to just leave, slink back to Stroud as a failure of a mother…
So, what was the solution?
“You need some space,” she stated slowly, and Harriet gave her a suspicious look.
“Well…I guess?” she answered cautiously. “But I don’t want you to have to go all the way back home. That’s not…” She blew out a breath. “I know that wouldn’t actually be helpful for anyone. I know we need to work through this, if we want to have any semblance of a mother-daughter relationship.” She managed a wry smile that made Anna’s heart ache. “I do know that, even if it doesn’t seem like I do.” She grimaced. “Even if I don’t act like I do.”
“I understand, Harriet,” Anna said softly, grateful for her daughter’s honesty. “Really, I do.”
They were both silent, and then Anna hefted the tray. “I’d better bring this upstairs before the soup gets cold a second time.”
Harriet gave a small smile. “Okay. Thanks.”
Anna’s mind was whirling as she headed upstairs with the tray, without being able to settle on any specific thought or idea. She just…felt. It was a messy, complicated tangle of emotions, but in there somewhere was a seedling of hope, just like the snapdragon seedling she’d planted this morning, tiny and miraculous, pushing determinedly upwards, seeking the light.
She tapped on Peter’s bedroom door and Rachel came to it quickly, giving her a brief smile of thanks before murmuring that she’d be down soon. Accepting it as the dismissal it undoubtedly was—and not being mad about it—Anna headed back downstairs.
Harriet was tidying up their lunch dishes, and Anna went to help her without either of them speaking, simply working in harmony, which was certainly better than it had been. And still Anna was thinking, trying to figure out a way forward.
Harriet needed space. And maybe Rachel too, and maybe even Anna herself. She would, she realised, appreciate not feeling like she had to tiptoe around everyone, apologising for her presence, her very existence.
Her thoughts continued to buzz around in her brain as they finished tidying up and then Harriet excused herself to go meet Quinn at the hotel. Rachel had ensconced herself in her office again and so Anna was left on her own, kicking around her old home like a stranger. It was, even after two weeks of it, an odd feeling. And not a particularly nice odd feeling. Yes, she mused, she really would like her own space.
*
It took Annathree more days before she settled on a solution, and one that came entirely unexpectedly. She, Rachel, and Harriet had managed to come to a sort of silent accommodation, something slightly better than a truce, although perhaps not by that much.
Anna didn’t help directly with Peter, but she was able to be helpful with laundry and housework, making meals and generally being useful. Her daughters still didn’t talk much to her beyond the pleasantries and practicalities, and no one prodded the hornets’ nest Anna had unleashed when she’d mentioned being sectioned. No one, herself included, seemed to want to discuss that again, or at least not anytime soon.
Anna spent a lot of time out in the greenhouse or garden, planting up seedlings or tidying the raggedy winter flower beds, remembering when this garden had been not just her pride and joy, but her much-needed sanctuary. She hadn’t even known gardening was athinguntil she’d married Peter and moved to Embthwaite Farm, with its veg patch and orchard, and then she’d found a joy and a comfort in the sowing and growing.
Her thumb had turned greener with the years, so that when she’d moved to Stroud after being released from hospital, feeling as if she had been in some sort of mental and physical hibernation, now blinking and reeling in the light, and still so very raw and wounded, she’d found work in a garden centre, and stayed there for the next twelve years. Her boss, a woman in her thirties called Maisy, had been very understanding of her taking an unspecified amount of time off to come up here.
And yet in the midst of generally trying to keep busy, she’d felt restless. She didn’t think any of them were going to make any progress if they kept to this uneasy status quo. Then, when she ventured into Mathering one morning, having avoided the town since her arrival, she paused in front of a flyer tacked onto the noticeboard outside the post office.Two-bedroom furnished terraced cottage for rent, available immediately, short- or long-term lets.The photo was of the front of a lovely little cottage on one of Mathering’s side streets, and the weekly rate was certainly reasonable. What if she took it?
It was a novel thought, and one that she needed to let sink in for a bit. Would Harriet or Rachel be offended if she left—or relieved? It was so hard to know what might set them off, what they would take to heart. And yet…if she did move out, it would give them—and her—the space they all needed, without her being very far away. She could still come over to help with things, still be available…
Slowly Anna walked down the street, not really paying attention to where she was going. Since her return, she hadn’t wanted to come into Mathering in case people recognised her, but somewhat to her surprise, she felt fairly anonymous as she wandered its few narrow streets. Maybe even in places like Mathering, in the deepest part of North Yorkshire, people moved on, in and out. Life kept going, rolling on without taking any notice of those who had left.
“Anna Mowbray, as I live and breathe!”
Or maybe not.
The voice, strident and booming, was followed by a positive cackle of laughter that had the hairs rising up on the back of Anna’s neck. She blinked at the wizened woman in front of her, hands planted on bony hips, her white hair crimpled in a tight perm as she gave Anna a decidedly beady stare.
“Agatha…” Anna replied faintly. She recalled the woman who had run one of Mathering’s two tea rooms from her front parlour and seemed to know everyone’s business without even trying; it was as if she absorbed the news, inhaled it like oxygen and then breathed it out again.
“I wondered if you’d come back,” Agatha stated matter-of-factly, and Anna couldn’t keep from wincing. This kind of scenario was exactly the reason she hadn’t ventured into Mathering until now. What had emboldened her to finally brave it? Clearly it had been foolhardy.
“Well, I did,” she replied, trying to sound cheerful. “Needs must.”
Agatha clucked her tongue. “You look like you need a cup of tea and a cream bun,” she pronounced, like she was giving out a prescription. “Come with me.”
“Oh, I—”
