Page 15 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“Yes,” Anna said firmly. “I am.” Henry chose that moment to decide he wanted his mother back, and he suddenly lunged from Anna’s arms towards Jane, about to do a nosedive right onto the floor until his mother neatly scooped him up, blowing a raspberry on his tummy before she settled him on her hip.
“Sorry,” Anna said a bit breathlessly. Her heart was racing from how close she’d come to dropping him right on the floor, and she wondered if Jane would be annoyed.
“Oh, he does that all the time,” Jane replied breezily. “Eric calls it his rugby tackle move. Anyway. Shall we head back to mine? We can have a cuppa and sort out all the details.”
The prospect filled Anna with a rush of gladness, as well as relief. She’d become so used to bracing herself for being an irritation, for always apologising, bowing and cringing. It was nice to have a normal conversation. To feel completely accepted, even by a stranger. “That sounds wonderful,” she told Jane, a thrum of sincerity in her voice that embarrassed her, but Jane just grinned and locked up.
Jane’s house was identical to the rental in layout, but utterly different in every other way. It was a happy clutter of colourful dishes and curtains—a patchwork blanket in a rainbow of colours thrown over a chair, wildly striped curtains fluttering at the windows. And everywhere Anna looked was the paraphernalia of babyhood—high chair, nursing pillow, changing table, bouncy seat, burp cloths and plenty of toys.
“Sorry,” Jane said, not sounding remotely abashed by the mess as she led her back to the kitchen. “I’d like to tell you the house is a mess because I have a six-month-old baby, but the truth is, I’ve never been the neatest person. Not like Dad.”
The way Jane talked about her father, Anna reflected, suggested a close-knit relationship, and one without anyone else involved. What about her mum? Jane hadn’t mentioned her once, but Anna didn’t feel she could ask—not yet anyway—even though she was curious.
“So, you really think you want to rent the house?” Jane asked directly as she plonked Henry into his high chair and handed him a teething rusk, which he promptly hurled onto the floor with gleeful abandon. Jane glanced at Anna in inquiry as she went to switch on a bright red electric kettle.
“I’d love to, but I should let you know that I don’t know how long I’ll be here,” Anna replied, feeling compelled to be honest. “I actually live down in Gloucestershire, but I’m in Mathering to help my daughters out for a bit.”
“Oh?” Jane’s tone was friendly, her eyes bright with curiosity, but she was too polite to press. Still, Anna felt she had to explain, at least a little. Henry, meanwhile, had twigged that his rusk was gone, and let out an ear-splitting shriek of despair. Without missing a beat, Jane took the rusk from the floor, dusted it off, and then broke it into pieces and handed them one by one to Henry, who stuffed each piece gleefully into his mouth.
“My ex-husband lives just outside Mathering,” Anna explained hesitantly as Henry smacked his lips, delighted with his rusk. “He has a terminal brain tumour, and my daughters have been nursing him. I came to help.”
Jane’s eyes widened as she instinctively glanced at Henry, as if she needed to protect him from such a fate. “I’m so sorry,” she told Anna sombrely. “That sounds incredibly difficult.”
“Yes, well.” Anna gave an uncertain little shrug. She hadn’t even let herself think about how she felt about the possibility of Peter, the only man she’d ever loved, dying, and soon; there had been too much else going on to dwell on it, and in any case, she wasn’t sure she had the emotional energy to. “I suppose it is.”
The kettle switched off, which was something of a relief, as it kept Jane busy, so Anna didn’t have to struggle to say anything else or brace herself for more of Jane’s sympathy. By the time she’d taken their two cups of tea to the table, it felt as if the conversation had moved on without anyone having said anything more.
“So, in terms of the house,” Jane said, once they were seated at the table by the French windows, Henry still munching his pieces of rusk, “you could rent it on a week-by-week basis, if you liked? That way you could have some flexibility.”
“But wouldn’t that put you out?”
Jane shrugged as she took a sip of tea. “I don’t see a big queue of interested parties, especially not this time of year. If something changes, I can let you know, but I think I’ll like having you as a neighbour.”
“I think I’ll like having you as a neighbour, as well,” Anna answered honestly. “And Henry too,” she added, giving the baby a smile. Jane’s easy friendliness, so generous and without reserve, was—she realised—a much-needed balm after her own daughters’ prickliness. Jane was about their age, and it had been a long time since Anna had been able to befriend someone so young. Everybody at the garden centre where she worked was on the older side, apart from Maisy, and she hadn’t met many people outside of it, in all the thirteen years she’d been on her own. It made her a little sad, how small her life seemed, now that she was on the outside, looking in, but she’d been content, and in truth she hadn’t dared to try for anything more.
“So, it sounds like it’s sorted,” Jane pronounced. “When do you want to move in?”
Anna gave a little laugh. “It doesn’t feel like it should be that easy. Shouldn’t I be giving you personal references, or a month’s deposit, or something like that?”
Jane wrinkled her nose. “Probably, now that I think about it. I’m sure Dad would want something. But since you’re only renting by the week, how about a week’s deposit? Say, one hundred and fifty pounds?”
That seemed a negligible amount, and Anna agreed with alacrity.
“As for personal references,” Jane continued, “the fact that you’re here to help your daughters is reference enough to me.” She smiled kindly at Anna. “Not every mum would do something like that.”
The tea that Anna had just taken a sip of suddenly tasted bitter in her mouth. She doubted either Rachel or Harriet would agree with Jane’s benevolent assessment, but she was hardly going to make that point now—or ever. “Thank you,” she managed after swallowing the tea. “That’s very kind. But really, I probably should have come back sooner.”
Twelve years sooner, she acknowledged darkly. Something else she wasn’t about to tell her new landlady. As much as she liked Jane, Anna knew there would always be some secrets she had to keep.
Chapter Seven
“You’re what?”
Rachel stared at Anna blankly, her cup of tea raised halfway to her lips. “You’removing?”
“Just into Mathering,” Anna replied patiently. Somehow, she’d known this conversation wouldn’t go according to plan. Nothing, when it came to her daughters, seemed either straightforward or easy. It had been three days since she’d read the flyer advertising the house for rent, and now the contract was signed, everything sorted. All she had to do was tell Rachel and Harriet her intentions. “I thought we could all use a bit of space.”
Rachel’s eyebrows rose. “I thought you were here to help.”
