Page 56 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
“Maybe there was,” James agreed. The kettle boiled and he made them both tea while Anna watched in silence. Was this going to be nothing more than a post-mortem of possibility? she wondered. What could have been but now clearly wasn’t? Was there even any point to such a conversation? She almost didn’t want to have it. She’d had enough painful conversations already, and if there was no chance of them working through things…
But then she recalled how wonderful it had felt to kiss him, and how comfortable and happy she felt when she was with him…and how absolutelywretchedhe looked now. She thought of her own words to Rachel and Harriet, just that morning.We’re all struggling, and we all need to give each other grace.
She wanted to do that now.
“Whatever it is, I hope you can tell me,” she said quietly. “I want to understand. I admit I was hurt, but I’m not…I’m not angry. I want to be here for you…whatever happens between us.”
James turned to her, his eyes damp. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a low, heartfelt thrum. “That means a lot, Anna.”
He took their cups of tea over to the table before sitting down on one end. He dropped his head briefly into his hands as Anna took her own seat, and then he looked up at her, resolute.
“So, what happened was Jane,” he stated, and Anna felt a jolt of recognition. Of course, she should have considered that it had something to do with Jane—the darkened house, the fact that she hadn’t followed up…
She swallowed dryly. “What…what happened?”
He sighed and took a sip of tea. “To explain, I have to go back a bit. I told you I was a workaholic, and that I made a deliberate decision to step away from that after Helen died.”
“Yes…”
“What I didn’t tell you,” James continued resolutely, “was that I fell into a depression. It runs in my family, I’m afraid. My mother suffered pretty terribly at times. I staved it off through the years by keeping busy, but when Helen died…it felt as if my whole world had just…disappeared. I didn’t have Helen; I didn’t have my work. I ended up shutting down, in a lot of ways, and that wasn’t fair on Jane. It’s why she’s been so protective of me. She doesn’t want me—or her—ever to go through that dark time again.”
“I understand,” Anna whispered. More than he could possibly know.
“Four days ago,” James continued, “Eric called me. He came home from work to find Henry in his high chair, screaming his head off, and Jane was gone.”
Anna felt the blood drain from her face. Just like before! Should she have told James—or Eric—what had happened? She hadn’t thought it too serious a matter, just the usual mummy blues, but now she saw how it had been a warning sign. “Where was she?” she asked.
“She was wandering through Mathering in her dressing gown and slippers,” James replied bleakly. “Eric found her after twenty minutes of trawling the streets.” His face crumpled before he smoothed it out, steadying himself with a quick breath. “Poor Jane. She’s been coping so much less than I realised. And I, of all people, should have recognised the signs, because I was the same, back after Helen died—not sleeping, not eating…”
Both of which she had noticed when she’d last been there, Anna realised. If she hadn’t been so concerned about what Jane thought about her and James, maybe she would have suspected that something more serious was going on.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “Is she…is she all right now?”
“She’s checked herself into hospital,” James confessed with a ragged sigh. “Just yesterday. A psychiatric ward, just for a few days, to sort out some medication, and hopefully get some sleep. I’m proud of her, for knowing what she needed to do. It might have been what I needed, back in the day.” He raked a weary hand through his hair. “In any case, the lack of sleep had led to some manic episodes—baking in the middle of the night, talking nineteen to the dozen. Eric’s taken Henry to his parents, in Sunderland.”
Anna thought of Jane coming out at nine o’clock at night, clutching the brownies, seeming a bit excitable. “Poor, poor Jane,” she whispered.
“I know it sounds like an extreme situation,” he continued, “but shewillget her head on straight. I did, eventually. Not that it’s that easy or simple, far from it, but there’s such a stigma around mental illness, still…”
“Oh, James.” Anna couldn’t keep from giving a trembling laugh. “Trust me, I know that.”
He frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I should have told you before, I suppose,” Anna said. “And I know we’re talking about Jane, but…when I left Peter, I had something of a breakdown. I just…walked out…on Peter, and on Harriet, who was still at home. Doing her A levels, like Jane was when Helen died. I’ve always regretted leaving her like that, and she’s only just forgiven me. It has been very hard, for both of us.” She paused, giving James time to absorb what she’d admitted. “I don’t even think I was aware of what I was doing,” she resumed after a moment. “Truth be told, I can’t even remember doing it. But I ended up in a facility for three months. It took me that long to find a way to cope, to heal.” She shook her head. “I was afraid to tell you, for a lot of different reasons.”
His expression cleared and he smiled sadly. “Maybe we both should have been more honest with each other.”
“Well, it’s like I said,” Anna dared to tease, her voice only a little wobbly. “These things should be doled out in medicinal sips.”
“And we’ve both just had one big gulp,” James returned with a small smile, before his expression turned serious once more. “I’m sorry for letting you down, Anna.”
“You didn’t,” Anna assured him. “I was confused, it’s true, and hurt, but I understand now why you went silent.”
“Still.” He glanced down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with one finger. “Part of what was going on with Jane was she’d started to suspect there might be something between us. Something about a scarf.”
Anna couldn’t keep from wincing in acknowledgement. “I thought that might be happening,” she admitted. “I wanted to talk to her about it—and you, as well—but then everything kicked off with Peter and there wasn’t the time… I’m sorry. I should have dealt with it.”
He shook his head. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have spoken to her from the start. If I’d thought about it, I would have known she might get upset. It’s been just the two of us for a long time.”
