Page 8 of Sunset at Embthwaite Farm
Anna took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Was she? Did she dare? And yet what was the alternative—tiptoeing around for another few days before she couldn’t bear it any longer and slunk back to Stroud? No, she definitely did not want to do that. Confronting Harriet and Rachel would be good for them as well as her. It was something that needed to happen.
“I am going to tell them,” she told Diana, managing to inject a determined note into her voice she wasn’t quite yet feeling. “It might all go horribly wrong, but at least I know I’ll have tried.”
“And it might not go horribly wrong, or wrong at all,” Diana replied with a brisk smile. “Let yourself believe that it might actually goright!”
Chapter Four
Diana’s encouraging wordsrang in Anna’s ears all the way back to Embthwaite Farm. She was going to talk to Rachel and Harriet, she told herself. Today. As soon as she got back, even. They’d all sit down and have it out, and it would lead to…
That was where her pep talk petered out. What would it lead to? Happy families once more? Reconciliation, hugs and happily-ever-after? No, probably not. Like Harriet had said, too much troubled water had flowed under that particular bridge…but it would lead tosomething, Anna told herself. And like she’d said to Diana, at least she would have tried.
Buoyed by this thought, she marched into the farmhouse, Fred trotting behind her, only to find the house feeling depressingly empty. Rachel wasn’t at her desk, and Harriet wasn’t in the kitchen, baking up a storm as she usually did. When Anna tiptoed upstairs and peeked in Peter’s bedroom, she found, to her shock, that he wasn’t there, either.
Alarm rippled through her. Had something happened? She’d only been gone for an hour or two. Quickly she typed out a text to Rachel.I came back and everyone was gone. Is everything okay??
A few minutes later Rachel’s rather terse reply came through:Took Dad to the GP to see the palliative nurse and get his meds. Be home by lunchtime.
Okay, then. Anna breathed out, relieved that nothing serious had happened, but also wondering why neither Harriet nor Rachel had thought to tell her this. They seemed almost to delight in keeping her out of the loop.
Well, in the meantime, she decided, she would set the stage for a Conversation, definitely with a capital C. She tidied the breakfast dishes away and started slicing some leeks and potatoes for soup. It felt good, to be in the kitchen doing something useful. The last time she had felt useful was when Harriet had been in a complete tizz about the party, and Anna and Rachel had helped bake the cookies for it. For a short time—a very short time, admittedly—they’d all worked together. It had given Anna hope, as well as a lovely picture of the way things could be…if her daughters would allow it. For some reason, they’d quickly decided after the party that they wouldn’t.
But Anna was hoping that would change today.
*
By the timeRachel’s car pulled up in the drive, the soup was simmering, and a couple of par-baked baguettes were warming in the oven. Anna had set the table, and even gathered a few hellebores from a straggly flower bed and put them in a little blue vase—one she remembered using for flowers from before. All in all, she thought it looked pretty and welcoming, and she hoped her daughters thought so, as well.
“Hello,” she called out, stepping into the hallway as they came through the front door. “How was it?”
Peter was walking slowly, flanked by both Harriet and Rachel, who each had an elbow and were helping him along. All three of them looked up as Anna spoke, looking at her as if she had sprouted three heads.
“It was fine,” Rachel replied shortly. “The dosage of Dad’s Martapan prescription had to be upped.”
“I see,” Anna replied after a second’s pause. “Well, I’m glad it was sorted.” They continued to shuffle into the house, heading for the stairs.
“Can you take the stairs, Dad?” Rachel asked gently. “Or do you want to rest in the kitchen for a bit first?”
“I’ve made lunch,” Anna chimed in helpfully. “We could all sit down for a bit—”
“We bought lunch in town,” Harriet told her. “Some sausage rolls from the bakery.”
Anna blinked. Kept her smile. “Have you eaten them yet?” she asked. “Why don’t you bring them to the kitchen, and we can add it to the rest.”
“I’ll go upstairs,” Peter announced, and with a quick, repressive look for their mother, Harriet and Rachel started to help him upstairs.
Well, that was fine, Anna told herself. She hadn’t envisioned including Peter in their little chat, anyway. She decided to keep being helpful and she made him some lunch to bring up, slicing the baguette thinly enough for him to manage, and making sure the soup wasn’t too hot. She’d just finished putting it all on the tray when Harriet came into the kitchen, taking in all of Anna’s work.
“This wasn’t necessary,” she said in the same flat voice as before.
“Well, I figured you’d all be hungry,” Anna replied lightly. “And I feel like I need to earn my keep around here. I haven’t been nearly as helpful as I hoped to be.”
“Because this is all about you,” Harriet retorted, which Anna thought was a rather unjust remark. She’d been tiptoeing around for weeks, and suddenly making lunch was all about her?
“No, it isn’t all about me, Harriet,” she replied evenly, “but you know what? It isn’t all aboutyou, either.”
Harriet gasped as if Anna had slapped her. Anna felt as if she had; she hadn’t spoken to her daughter this way since she’d returned. Maybe not since she’d been a small child in need of disciplining. “Has that occurred to you?” she continued in the same, level voice when Harriet seemed too outraged to respond. “You’re so fixated on your hurt that you can’t see anyone else’s—”
Harriet made a scoffing sound. “Oh, am I supposed to believe you’re hurt?” she replied, and Anna let out a rather hard laugh.
