Page 47 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
For a moment they all stood there, their arms around each other, simply letting themselves soak in the sadness in a way that felt healing. Anna’s heart was full of gratitude, that she’d been able to be part of this moment at all.
After a few more seconds, Rachel stepped back. “I should go check on him,” she explained. “The palliative nurse said someone should sit with him.”
“I can sit with him, if you like,” Anna offered. “Or we all could. Or we could take it in turns.”
“Let’s all go,” Harriet said, wiping her face. “Just for a bit.”
They headed upstairs, crowding into the bedroom where Peter lay. At the sight of him, Anna experienced another jolt. He lookedshrunken, compared to just yesterday, and so very still. His breath came in slow, laboured gasps, with enough space between each one for Anna to tense, wondering if it had been his last. It really was nearly the end.
“Before Dad got sick, I hardly ever went in here,” Rachel said in a low voice. She pulled a chair up near the bed for Anna, and another for Harriet before she stood at the foot of the bed, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed down at her father. “I didn’t realise he’d kept all your clothes in the wardrobe,” she continued. “I don’t think he ever touched a thing.” She glanced at Anna. “I didn’t even realise you hadn’t taken your clothes.”
“I left in something of a rush,” Anna conceded. A pang of unease assailed her. She needed to tell her daughters about Peter asking her to contact Ruth Hatch, and maybe also about Daisy. It would not, she knew, be an easy conversation.
They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound the draw and tear of Peter’s painful breathing. Harriet sniffed and wiped at her eyes, while Rachel looked resolute.
Then a noise from downstairs had them all turning.
“Ben, with lunch,” Rachel explained, and slipped from the room.
Harriet drew a sniffly breath. “I don’t know if you knew,” she told Anna after a moment, “but Dad had changed his will right after you left. He left the farm to Rachel and ten thousand pounds to me.”
“He…did?” Anna was startled; she had never thought about Peter’s will, but she’d assumed he would have left his estate equally between his daughters.
“Yes, we found the will about a month ago. But he told me yesterday that he changed his will, just before he found out about the brain tumour. He said he wanted to do what was best for all of us.” She gave Anna a watery smile. “So, I’m glad about that. Not because of the money, but just because…he made it right.”
“I’m glad about that, too,” Anna replied. She hated the thought of Harriet feeling so singled out, so rejected. She glanced back at Peter with a sorrow that felt more like weariness than grief.Why, she wondered futilely.Why were you so stubborn…about so many things?
She heard the creak of the stairs and then Rachel poked her head in the door. “Ben’s brought lunch…a big shepherd’s pie that Diana made. Do you want to come down? I can stay up here, if you like.”
“No, you both go eat, you look like you need something,” Anna replied. “I’ll stay.”
She glanced back at Peter.I left you thirteen years ago, she thought, andmaybe I should have left you long before. But now I’m staying.
*
The rest ofthe day passed in a surreal sort of dreaminess; they took turns sitting at Peter’s bedside, going down to the kitchen for restorative cups of tea as they alternated spots. Around three o’clock Quinn came over, and Anna was glad to see both her daughters supported by such decent men. It gave her a sense of reassurance and security for their happiness.
And what aboutherhappiness? She’d texted James to let him know she was back at the farm, had had a text back from him at lunchtime:I must confess, I can’t stop smiling. Hope you’re holding up okay. xx
She could hardly wait to see him again, and yet with everything happening here, she knew it would be some time.
During one of her breaks in the kitchen, she decided to make one more effort to look up Ruth Hatch. It might be too late for her to say her goodbyes, but Anna felt she needed to try. She typed Ruth Hatch, Hatch Farm, Thorpe Willoughby into the search box and waited for it to load.
Ben was making yet more tea for her and Rachel, and Harriet was sitting upstairs with Peter. Quinn had gallantly volunteered to walk Fred. Outside the sun was sinking behind the hill, casting dusky shadows over the garden as the last of the day’s light was leached from the sky.
Anna glanced down at her phone, waiting with a weary sort of impatience for the search results to load.
“I don’t mean to be macabre,” Rachel said in a low voice, “but how long should we wait before we hold the funeral? It will just be locals, and I think I’d like to get it over with, if that doesn’t sound too awful.” She glanced at Anna. “And you probably want to get back to Stroud.”
“There’s no rush on my end,” Anna replied. She supposed she should talk to both Rachel and Harriet about her tentative plans to stay in Mathering. She hoped they’d be pleased, but what if they weren’t?
“A week or so is the usual time, if there isn’t the need for an autopsy,” Ben chimed in quietly as he handed them both mugs of tea. “That’s what it was for my dad.”
“I can’t believe we’re talking about this,” Rachel murmured as she took a sip of her tea. “When will it stop feeling like a surprise?”
Just then, they heard the sound of Harriet coming downstairs, one slow step at a time. Rachel and Anna glanced at each other in apprehension; she’d only been up there for twenty minutes or so.
Harriet came into the kitchen, her face pale, her hair in a dark tangle. “He’s gone,” she said quietly. “I don’t even know when. He slipped away so quietly…it took me a few minutes to realise there hadn’t been another breath.” She made a gulping sound. “I’m sorry. I would have come and fetched you if I’d known…”
