by Kate Hewitt
After another few minutes the connection started to stall and so they all chorused goodbye, and then turned back to the last presents to open.
“This one is rather special,” Ruth said, handing it to Esther. “Why don’t you and Will open it together?”
Esther looked slightly suspicious but she dutifully shuffled over closer to her husband and they pulled at the paper together. Will lifted the lid of the box and after a second of simply staring at what was inside Esther lifted out a newborn sleepsuit in snowy-white velveteen, complete with a hood with pink bunny ears. Everyone oohed and aahed at the darling outfit.
“That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” Rachel exclaimed, and Ruth beamed.
“I couldn’t resist,” she said to Esther. “I know it’s a bit early, but I saw it when I was in town and it just looked so darling...”
“It is darling,” Esther said. She folded it carefully and put it back in the box. “So sweet. Thanks, Mum.”
The words were right but the tone wasn’t. Although she smiled and then got up to hug her mum, Esther seemed a bit strained and wooden about it at all. Will reached for her hand when she sat back down and gave it a squeeze.
“I think we’re both still a little bit in shock about the baby,” he said in what Anna suspected was meant to be an apology or at least an explanation for Esther’s lack of enthusiasm. “It all happened faster than we thought it would.”
“Babies don’t keep to a schedule,” Roger said with a smile, but Anna could see her mum look at Esther with a little frown of worry. She could tell something was amiss, just as Anna could. But what on earth was it?
Later, after the presents had been opened and the wrapping paper cleared away, and her mother was checking on the roast turkey while her father stoked the fires blazing cheerily in all the downstairs rooms, Simon asked Anna if she wanted to take Charlie for a short walk before dinner.
“You can be back in time to do the Yorkshire puds,” he promised, and so, feeling a heady mix of excitement and nerves, Anna pulled on her welly boots and slipped into her parka.
It was the kind of cold, clear day that stole the breath straight from her lungs. The grass glittered with frost as they crunched through it on the way to the footpath that ran the base of the fells. Although the sky was a bright blue, already, at two o’clock in the afternoon, dusky shadows were starting to lengthen.
“Do you think you’ll get used to the weather up here?” Anna asked as they walked along, Charlie trotting happily at their heels. “Dark winters, light summers, and endless rain?”
“I don’t mind the rain.” With a smile Simon slipped his gloved hand in hers. “Makes you appreciate the sunny days even more.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” It took the bad to appreciate the good.
After feeling left out and lonely for most of her life, Anna could certainly appreciate the simple joys of this moment—Simon’s hand in hers, the sun shining, Charlie trotting along next to them. If she could have stayed in this moment, she would have. Not ask for more, not settle for less.
But she couldn’t stay in any moment. Life went relentlessly on whether she wanted it to or not. And even though she’d wanted simply to be, to enjoy Christmas and this time with Simon, already Anna’s mind went racing ahead. She had a train ticket booked back to Manchester on December twenty-ninth. Her parents had wanted her to stay through New Year’s, but she hadn’t been able to get the time off work. And what would happen when she got on that train? Would they make a long-distance relationship work, and for how long?
Simon needed to be in Thornthwaite. As for her... could she come back here? There was no job, for one, and even though she knew it was silly and even dangerous to think this way, this much, she couldn’t see herself as a vicar’s wife. Teaching Sunday school, hosting everything, always in the village’s public eye. All of it terrified her, plus she knew she wouldn’t be good at it. So what then?
“Anna,” Simon said, and he squeezed her hand. “Whatever you’re thinking about, stop.”
“What do you mean?”
He tugged on her hand so she had to turn to face him, and they stopped, Charlie sprawling across their boots. Gently, Simon touched her forehead with his gloved thumb. “You get a little furrow there when you’re worried.”
“You know that about me already?”
“I know a lot of things about you already.”
“That’s true.” Her smile wobbled, his thumb still brushing her forehead.
Then he slid his hand down to cup her cheek, the glove rough against her skin, and he leaned forward and she did too, and then they were kissing. Feeling his mouth move on hers again felt like such a relief. She hadn’t realized she’d been waiting for this, just this, since the last time he’d kissed her yesterday. Their hips and noses both bumped as they continued to kiss, lovely feelings of heat and need swirling through her, until Charlie whined and with a little laugh Simon stepped back.
“Sorry, I was getting a bit carried away there.”
“I didn’t mind.” Anna couldn’t keep herself from blushing. “But I don’t suppose you want all of Thornthwaite gossiping about you before you’ve barely begun your curacy.”
“I don’t care about gossip.” Simon looked at her seriously. “Anna... my position here... does it put you off at all? From thinking about us?”
His gaze was so direct, the question so honest, that for a moment she couldn’t answer. Her family was wonderful in their own way, but they weren’t honest about things like this. They didn’t ask the hard questions and then wait for the answers, wanting to know. Not like Simon did.
“A bit,” she felt compelled to admit. “I’m not...” She could not tell him she didn’t think she was vicar’s wife material. Mentioning the word “wife” when they were barely dating was an extreme no-no. “There’s a lot to consider, I suppose.”
“Yes, there always is.” Simon was still looking at her seriously, peering at her as if trying to divine some mystery from her expression. “I really hope it doesn’t put you off,” he said at last.
Anna couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across her face at his heartfelt tone. “Thank you,” she said, and then dared to lean forward and kiss him again.
She’d meant simply to brush his lips but he grabbed her arm and pulled her closer, and a sizzle of both longing and excitement blazed through her at the hunger she felt in his touch. For her. It felt like a gift, a miracle.
Eventually they broke apart and started walking back towards the vicarage. The light had been leached from the sky, leaving it bone white with shadows gathering on the horizon, the fells already cloaked in twilit darkness.
Simon took her hand and Anna smiled at him in the dark, for once in her life feeling happy despite the fear, with the fear. She might never conquer her innate shyness and social anxiety, but she could savour this moment... and more moments like this, when they came.
Back at the vicarage, Roger called Simon into his study to discuss some change to Sunday’s service, and Anna headed back to the kitchen to do the Yorkshire puddings. She stopped in the doorway, shocked to see Esther sitting at the kitchen table, her head buried in her arms.
“Esther...”
Esther looked up, red-eyed and sniffly. “I’m fine,” she said in a clogged voice, but with a flash of warning in her eyes. Of all the Holley sisters, Esther liked scenes the least, and Anna suspected her oldest sister equated emotion with weakness.
“Okay,” she said cautiously, unsure where to go with the conversation. Esther was so clearly not all right. Anna reached for a bowl and measuring jug and began to mix the Yorkshire pudding batter. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked eventually. Esther was simply sitting at the table, staring into space.
“Not really,” she answered on a sigh. “Not at all, because you’ll think I’m either mad or an ungrateful cow, and I’m probably both.”
“Try me,” Anna said. “Maybe I won’t think you’re either.”
&nbs
p; Esther took a shuddering breath, her gaze downcast. “Oh, Anna,” she said, and she sounded so sad, so broken, that Anna nearly wept. “The truth is... the terrible truth is... I don’t want this baby.”
Chapter Thirteen
Simon gazed at Anna from across their table at The Queen’s Sorrow and could only think how fast it had all gone. Just three days since Christmas, and he’d spent them all with Anna. On Boxing Day, they’d driven to St. Bees on the coast, and watched as all the local farmers had driven their tractors onto the wide, flat stretch of damp sand. Children had run to and fro, scrambling on top of the mechanical beasts, while the farmers had looked on, either stony-faced or smiling.
Afterwards they’d walked up to the Head, battling brisk winds and an alarmingly steep climb but the view of the sea stretching on endlessly, the Isle of Man a violet smudge on the horizon, had been worth it.
On the way back to Thornthwaite, they’d stopped at a cosy pub tucked up in the fells for lunch and it had all felt so perfect, the conversation easy and comfortable, the kisses stolen in private moments heart-stoppingly wonderful, the future shining ahead of them like a golden promise.
Yesterday, they’d spent with Anna’s family, tidying up after Christmas and taking a walk through the village. Simon had started to sense some of the cracks and currents running through all the Holleys—Rachel’s engagement, Esther’s pregnancy, Roger’s retirement. A lot was changing, and change, whether good or bad, was also hard. Today he’d had to work in the morning—he did have a job, after all—but in the afternoon he and Anna drove to Buttermere and walked around the lake. It had been lovely, the rolling fells a perfect backdrop to the nestled jewel of the lake, but it had also been freezing and halfway through a needling, icy sleet had started to fall, leaving them both cold and wet and miserable, hurrying to make it all the way around.
They’d warmed up in a pub but already Simon had had that awful, sinking suspicion that Anna was slipping away, going too quiet, not meeting his eye, and he’d been amazed at how familiar that felt. How awful.
It had been the same with Ellie. She’d stopped taking her medication without telling him and, at first, he’d told himself he’d been imagining things. The silence wasn’t sullen; she was just quiet. They weren’t talking because they were busy. Everything was fine. But it hadn’t been, and if he’d seen it earlier, maybe, just maybe, he could have done something.
Simon knew thinking that way was pointless torture, but with Anna going quiet on him he couldn’t help it. He went there in his mind, in his heart. Instantly. It was impossible not to. He’d soldiered on and now it was Anna’s last night and they were having dinner in The Queen’s Sorrow. Tomorrow she was taking the train back to Manchester, and they hadn’t yet discussed when or if they’d see each other again.
“It all went rather quickly in the end, didn’t it?” Simon remarked as they perused menus.
Anna had been reluctant to come to the pub because she felt she’d know too many people, something which Simon had tried not to let irritate or, worse, hurt him because they were a couple, weren’t they? Right now that seemed somewhat uncertain.
“Mmm.” Anna kept her gaze on the menu and Simon stared at her helplessly, wishing he wasn’t facing this quiet yet determined emotional retreat. He hated how it made him doubt. Perhaps he wasn’t capable of handling the highs and lows of any relationship. Perhaps he wasn’t strong enough.
“Anna.”
She looked up, her expression turning wary as she saw how serious he looked. But she was leaving tomorrow. They couldn’t skate past that reality any longer.
“Talk to me. When will I see you again?” He sounded needy and urgent, something else he hated. Ellie had hated it too. Just give me some space, Si, she’d snarl at him, and he’d blink at her, so startled by the sudden viciousness. Then he’d tiptoe away and give her the space she said she needed, a choice he still wasn’t sure had been the right one. It was a choice he didn’t want to make now.
“I... I don’t know.” His heavy heart sank even further.
“You don’t?”
“You work on weekends and I work weekdays. It makes it difficult, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” Another one of those obstacles he’d talked about in such vague terms. When he’d first met Anna, he’d felt like a superhero, tossing obstacles and objections out of the way as if they were nothing, so sure that together they could make this work. But now he wondered whether they could, and he knew Anna was wondering too. He wasn’t a superhero. He wasn’t even strong. Being in a relationship again, however tentative or tenuous, made him realize that afresh.
Anna didn’t answer and Simon made himself ask, “How difficult does it make it, Anna?”
She tensed and he wished he hadn’t gone there, laid it out so plainly. He’d given her an out, and he had a horrible feeling she was going to take it.
“I don’t know, Simon.” Anna lowered her gaze and he fought a wave of frustration. “Everything’s still so new... and so much is changing...”
“There you are!”
Now they were both tensing as Simon turned to smile at a woman he recognized from church but whose name he didn’t yet know. She obviously knew them, because she was gazing at them with benevolent if beady interest.
“How nice that you’re having dinner together,” she said, and cocked her head. “Have you two known each other long?”
“A little while,” Simon said pleasantly. “Have you had a nice Christmas?”
“Oh, lovely, lovely, as always. The carol service is always such a wonderful service.” The woman, with her comfortable bosom and florid, farmer’s wife face, turned to Anna.
“How are you, my dear? Still holed up in Manchester?”
Anna’s smile froze on her face. She answered carefully, “Yes. I live there.”
“You do seem to have kept away from us, lovey,” the woman chided. “Why is that?”
Anna swallowed and then said, “N-n-n-no reason.” A blush swept over her face and she looked away.
“It’s so nice to see you,” Simon intervened. “I hope you have a lovely meal.”
The woman looked slightly taken aback and Simon had a bad feeling he’d offended her. He also found he didn’t much care. Maybe this was why Anna hadn’t wanted to go to The Queen’s Sorrow.
The woman left with both a smile and a huff, and when she’d gone Anna shook her head. “You can’t make enemies like that, Simon. Not when you’re going to be vicar.”
“That was making an enemy?”
“That’s village life,” she replied with a shrug. “People want a part of you all the time.” She looked away, and he saw sadness clinging to her features like cobwebs. Felt it in himself.
“Anna...”
“Why don’t we order?”
This wasn’t going to work. That was the staccato drumbeat of fear pulsing through her veins as they ordered their food and attempted to reassemble the pleasant and comfortable atmosphere they’d been enjoying for the last few days, but the more they tried to hold onto it the more it slipped away. Why did everything have to fall apart so soon and so fast? Yet had she really expected it not to?
The last few days had been wonderful in their own way. Walks and kisses and sweet, sweet time together. Of course, there had been some stresses. After Esther had blurted out that she didn’t want the baby, she’d clammed up and Anna hadn’t been able to get another word out of her. Rachel seemed tense too, and both her sisters’ unhappiness had leached into their time together as a family. But Anna’s time with Simon had felt separate and special... and now it seemed as if it was coming to an end.
Misery churned inside her as their food came and even Simon stopped trying to keep up the chat. It was as if they knew it was already over.
“Who was that harridan, as a matter of interest?” he finally asked as she stared down at her fish and chips and tried to summon an appetite.
“Diana Tomlinson. She’s a member of the choir.”
�
�Ah.”
“You really shouldn’t have dismissed her like that, Simon. Not for my sake.”
“It was just as much for mine. We’re having dinner.”
“I know, but...”
“Even in a place like Thornthwaite, there have to be boundaries.”
Her father had said the same thing, but he’d been so genial about everything no one ever felt brushed off. And she saw, in a moment of painful, piercing clarity, how their relationship wasn’t going to work, not just because of her, but because of Simon. How they were together. He was always going to feel like he had to cover or compensate for her, and she would feel even more like a failure. A screw-up.
“Simon,” she burst out, and he narrowed his eyes.
“Don’t say it.”
“You know it’s true.”
“Do I?”
Even though it felt like she had to rip the words from her chest, leaving gaping wounds, she made herself say them. “It’s not going to work between us.” Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them back, refusing to give in to her sadness. “You see it too, I think. You’ve been seeing it all week.”
“No, I haven’t.” There was a stubborn set to Simon’s jaw that she hadn’t seen before. “What I have been seeing,” he continued in a hard voice she hadn’t heard before, “is you trying to keep your distance. Staying safe, perhaps.”
It was a fair comment, because part of her had been inching into retreat mode as a matter of habit. When things got intense, she went into hiding. “Only because I realized more and more this can’t go anywhere.”
“Can’t?” Simon challenged. “Or won’t?”
“Maybe both,” Anna admitted. “I’m not right for you, Simon.”
“Maybe you’re not,” Simon agreed, “but you’re not even giving me a chance to find out.”
“Because it’s too hard,” she exclaimed, and then quickly lowered her voice. The last thing she wanted was a scene in The Queen’s Sorrow. “I don’t want to start caring about you only to have my heart broken into pieces. I doubt you want that, either.”