Page 55 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
Just then, her phone pinged with a text, and all three of them lunged for it, laughing as they scrabbed for the phone. Rachel got it first, and she dutifully handed it to Anna without looking at it.
Anna swiped the screen and then wordlessly she showed it to Harriet and Rachel. It was a text from James, just three words.
Can we talk?
Chapter Twenty-One
It was theday after Peter’s funeral, the morning after her wine-fuelled evening and James’s text, asking her to talk. Anna still felt fuzzy-headed, but also firm. She’d had a good talking-to by Rachel and Harriet that morning, and it was one she’d needed.
“Mum, you’ve basically lived your life like an apology for way too long,” Rachel told her as she scrambled eggs and Anna and Harriet sat at the table and sipped coffee. “And I know that’s partly on us, because we forced you into it. Both Harriet and I were pretty good at the blame game, and we’re sorry for that.”
“Me especially,” Harriet said, wincing as she sipped her own coffee. “I should have listened to you. Given you a chance.”
“You were hurting…” Anna murmured.
“Still…”
Rachel held up a warning hand. “We arenotgoing over all this again,” she informed them both firmly. “The point is, Mum, don’t be that way with this guy. You have nothing to be sorry for. He does. Remember that.”
“And remember that you’re worth it,” Harriet entreated her. “And I’m not talking about a make-up ad. This guy is lucky to have you. To know you. And you need to make sure he realises that, no matter how it goes down.”
“Yeah, because Dad never did,” Rachel added, “or at least he didn’t nearly enough. And a letter to be opened after his death doesn’t count. If he’d been braver, he would have said all that before he died.Waybefore.”
“I think he tried,” Anna replied, recalling that poignant conversation with Peter, just a little over a week ago now, although it felt like so much longer than that. “I hear what you’re saying, girls, and I agree with you…to a point. But something I’ve learned along the way is thateveryonefinds life hard. We’re all struggling, and we all need to give each other grace. Maybe I just don’t know what James’s struggle is…and maybe he’ll tell me.” That was the conclusion she’d come to last night, when the wine had worn off and she’d been left staring at the ceiling, wondering just what it was he wanted to talk about.
“You’re right,” Harriet said after a moment. “We could have all given each other more grace over the years, I suppose.”
“No more regrets,” Rachel announced as she placed plates of eggs in front of them both. “Eat up, and then go get him, Mum!”
*
And so hereshe was, driving up the rutted track to James’s house, wondering what on earth he was going to say to her. He hadn’t offered any more explanation via text, just asked if she could meet him at his house at ten o’clock in the morning. He’d apologised for the lack of notice, and said he had to be somewhere in the afternoon. Where, he didn’t say, and Anna didn’t ask. But she certainly hoped she gained some more clarity after this conversation.
This time, James didn’t throw open the door before Anna had stepped out of the car. In fact, she had to ring the doorbell—a first—and then wait a good thirty seconds before she finally heard the sound of the bolt sliding across and then the door opened.
Her first sight of James drew a startled gasp from her, and he managed a tired laugh.
“Sorry, I’m not at my best,” he told her with an attempt at wryness. “I did shower, though.”
“James…” Anna stared at him, the uncertainty and unease—and yes, the annoyance and hurt—she’d been feeling solidifying into a deeper dismay and concern. He looked dreadful…pouches beneath his eyes, deeper lines on his face, his clothes hanging off him. How had all this happened in just over aweek? “What’s happened?” she asked. “Because something obviously has.”
He shook his head as he ushered her in, closing the door behind her. “It’s a long story, and one I will tell you, but first let me take your coat. Coffee?”
Anna thought her stomach was churning too much to manage coffee, but she suspected they both could use something warm. “Herbal tea, please, if you have it,” she said.
James went to put on the kettle while Anna ventured into the open space that had always been so cosy and welcoming before, but now felt weirdly unlived in. There was no fire in the fireplace, and there was a forgottenness about everything that made her wonder if James had even been home this last week. What on earth had happened?
“It’s been a hell of a week,” he told her as he put the kettle on and then riffled in a cupboard for teabags. “I’ve got lemon and ginger—is that all right?”
“That’s absolutely fine.” Anna walked into the kitchen area, resting one hand on the marble island to anchor herself. “What’s happened, James? And why didn’t you let me know what was going on all this time?”
He sighed heavily. “I should have. I know I should have. It was just…complicated.”
“Is it still?”
“Yes.” He turned to give her a rather wretched look. “Which is why, or at least part of why, I haven’t been in touch. I was trying to figure out what was possible. But first, I should ask you about the funeral. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there. I would have been, otherwise.”
Anna gave a little shake of her head. “I don’t know that I would have expected you to be there, all things considered.” She paused before continuing clearly, “What this has made me realise, James, is how little we know each other. I know wefeltlike we knew each other, and that was wonderful, but it’s not the same, is it? I rushed into a relationship—a marriage—once before. I know we’re not remotely at that sort of stage, but I want to be honest. Whatever happened, I wish you’d told me about it. I wish we’d had that level of trust in one another, but the truth is, we didn’t, and there was a reason for that.”
