Page 21 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“Question four,” Tobias announced, and Anna leaned forward, determined to be extra attentive. “What is the capital of Finland?”
“Helsinki,” Rachel said immediately, and started writing. She’d gone through a phase when she’d been a child of memorising capitals, begging Anna to quiz her all the time. Unable to help herself, Anna glanced back at the man’s table again, but he was leaning across it, talking to someone else, and he didn’t notice. Foolishly, she felt disappointed.
“Question five!” Tobias called out, and Anna turned back. “What is the Japanese name for cherry blossom?”
“Sakura,” she answered automatically, and five faces around the table looked suitably impressed.
“How did you know that, Mum?” Rachel asked as she wrote it down.
“Well, I have been working at a garden centre for the last twelve years,” Anna replied teasingly, only to have Harriet give her a funny look.
“Have you? I didn’t know,” she said, which had the effect of pouring cold water over the entire conversation. Diana murmured something and Anna reached for her drink, only to find it was empty.
“I’ll get you another one,” Quinn said, rising from the table. He glanced around at everyone. “Anyone else for another?”
A few people murmured their orders while Harriet looked rather wretched. “Sorry,” she said when Quinn had left. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I just genuinely didn’t…”
“It’s fine,” Anna replied quickly. “Absolutely fine. I’m sure we have lots to discover about one another.” She gave her daughter a firmly reassuring smile as Tobias went on to question six. It wasn’t Harriet’s fault that she hadn’t known that, even if it had been uncomfortable to have her point it out during an evening like this one.
Fortunately, they managed to recover their equilibrium and even their cheer throughout the evening and placed a very respectable fifth out of twelve at the end of the quiz. The man’s table, the Smarty Pints, had placed third. As they gathered up their coats, everyone exclaiming, to various degrees of surprise or bemusement, what a lovely time they’d had, Anna looked around for the man. She knew she wasn’t bold enough to say hello to him, but she thought she might like to smile at him again.
Unfortunately, as she slipped on her coat and the hall emptied out, she found she couldn’t see him anywhere. Well, she told herself, it wasn’t as if anything had been going to happen there. Far from it, for a whole lot of reasons.
As they headed out into the frosty night, Harriet slung her arm around Anna’s shoulders, much to her gratification and surprise.
“That was really fun, Mum,” Harriet said. “I’m glad we all went together.”
“Yes,” Anna agreed, clumsily putting her arm around her daughter for a quick, non-threatening squeeze.
This was the takeaway of the evening, she knew, not some shared smile with a stranger she’d never see again across a crowded room. This—her daughters with her, learning to rebuild their relationship all over again.
Chapter Nine
Outside the kitchenwindow, the garden was carpeted with snowdrops, bright white clusters sparkling in the winter sunshine, as Anna finished washing up the lunch dishes. She smiled at the sight as she hung the damp tea towel on the railing of the Rayburn. The kitchen felt peaceful in the quiet of the afternoon; Rachel was giving lunch to Peter upstairs and Harriet had gone over to the hotel to work in the kitchen there.
Anna had been in her new place on Jubilee Street for two weeks now, and life had fallen into a fairly pleasing rhythm. She came over to Embthwaite Farm most days to help out with the cooking and housework, to walk Fred among the hills, and just be a general support to her daughters as they—and in particular, Rachel—cared for Peter. Anna had taken care not to go in his room again, but she knew from Rachel that he was sleeping a lot more, and his speech had become more garbled. The palliative nurse, a kindly woman in her early sixties, had come twice a week to check on Peter, tweak his medication, and provide general reassurance that they were all holding up wonderfully.
When Anna wasn’t at the farm, she was enjoying life in her little house, and she’d had a fair few coffees with Jane, who was insistent that she come for dinner and meet her father as well as her husband one evening, although nothing had been planned yet. She’d also gone over to the Mackey farm for coffee with Diana on several occasions, and overall, Anna felt as if she’d found a balance, a certain equilibrium, in this strange little life she’d made for herself back here in Mathering.
It worked, she reflected, as long as they didn’t talk about anything too serious. There had been no more deep dives into the past, which seemed to suit everyone fine. After all, they certainly had enough trauma to be going on with, including Peter’s imminent death. The thought caused a funny little pang to go through Anna, because she wasn’t really sure how to feel about that approaching reality.
When she’d walked out of this place thirteen years ago, she’d been in a complete stupor of shock and sorrow. Then, a little while later, she’d started to feel the overwhelming grief, for all she’d lost. After processing that, or trying to, she’d felt relief, that she no longer had to endure what she had.
But it had been a long time since she’d felt any of those emotions. In the last five years or so, she had, at the advice of her therapist, done her best to let go of past hurts and regrets and try to exist in the present. It had worked, sort of…until she’d come here.
Rachel came back into the kitchen with Peter’s lunch tray, which looked mostly untouched.
“The lamb casserole was delicious,” she assured Anna, “but he wasn’t very hungry.” Her expression clouded as she nibbled her lip. “It’s like he’s wasting away before our very eyes. I canseeit, in real time.”
Anna took the tray from her with a sympathetic smile. That was exactly what was happening, she thought sadly. She ached for both Rachel and Harriet, to have to see it.
“I suppose,” Rachel said as Anna scraped the casserole into the compost bin, “it’s just going to get harder from here on out.”
“Harder in some ways,” Anna replied, “but maybe easier in others.” She paused, feeling for the right words. “Grieving is a process. A journey, even. You can take encouragement, or at least strength, from knowing you’ve made some of it already.” Rachel cocked her head thoughtfully, considering the matter as Anna continued, “I used to console myself, when I felt sad about my parents dying, that every moment of grief I felt was one I wouldn’t have to feel again. I know I would feel grief generally, and in some ways that never goes away. But every hard moment felt like a deposit in, I don’t know, the grief bank.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “That probably sounds mad.”
“No, it doesn’t, actually,” Rachel replied quietly. “It makes a lot of sense.” She fell silent as Anna continued to tidy up the lunch dishes. “I don’t really remember your parents dying,” she remarked after a moment. “Grandad died when we were little, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he had a stroke when you were four,” Anna replied. “He died just a few days later.”
