by Kate Hewitt
“I’m sorry…”
“Not your fault.” He gave her a quick smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Anyway, I hope things work out for you, Miriam. I know your…situation…can’t be easy. If there’s anything I can do…”
“That’s very kind of you, but I doubt there is.” She smiled, trying to make light of it as with everything else, because what else could she do? “Unless you want to adopt a baby?”
Dan looked so startled, Miriam realised that had probably not been the most tasteful joke. And she hadn’t even been joking—not really.
“Are you actually thinking of giving the baby up for adoption?” He sounded shocked.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m thinking about it, yes.”
“It’s a very noble thing to do, if it’s what you want,” Dan said after a pause.
“I have absolutely no idea what I want,” Miriam said frankly. She didn’t know how she’d managed to get into such a serious discussion with Dan Taylor of all people, but it felt good to talk to someone who wasn’t a kindly but interfering family member. “That’s part of the problem. I’m not sure I want to adopt, but I can’t imagine raising a baby, either. I mean, I’m not the most responsible person on the planet, you know?”
“Are you not?” Dan raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t know.”
“I just mean, I didn’t go to uni, I’ve never held down a proper job—”
“But you’ve travelled the world, you’ve set off on your own when most people would have stayed safely at home… Don’t sell yourself short, Miriam.”
“Thanks.” She was genuinely touched by his kind words, even if she didn’t entirely believe them. She knew, or at least she suspected, that her family thought she was a cross between a rebel and a flake. She’d never tried very hard at school, and as soon as she was done with exams she’d set out to travel the world, armed with a thousand pounds she’d saved over the years—that was something, at least—and worked her way across Europe before heading towards Australia, never settling down anywhere for long, never being serious about anything.
“Anyway,” Dan said, “you have some time to think about it, at least.”
“Yes, almost four months.” Which didn’t sound very long at all.
“Well, if you need someone to talk to…” Dan offered with a sympathetic smile. “I know I might not be the likeliest choice, but I’m happy to listen. Anytime, Miriam. I mean it.”
“Thank you,” Miriam said, knowing she meant it, too. “I might take you up on that offer.” In fact, she was sorely tempted to spill her guts to Dan, and tell him just how scared and uncertain she felt about everything, but she wasn’t sure Dan actually wanted to hear that kind of stuff from her. She couldn’t exactly see them going out for a drink and a chat together, not really. “I should get back, though. Bailey needs her dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks for the lift.”
“My pleasure.”
Miriam glanced at him, taking in the short brown hair, the hazel eyes, his muscular form showcased by the navy-blue work shirt he wore, Thornthwaite Veterinary emblazoned on the breast pocket. Dan Taylor was undoubtedly a catch, and even if her sister Rachel hadn’t loved him enough, another woman would. The thought gave Miriam a funny little pang. Dan still had everything ahead of him, a future, a family, while she felt as if she were forever stuck in this terrible limbo, having no idea how to make sense of her life. Perhaps they weren’t too similar, after all.
Chapter Two
As Miriam came into the flat, Rachel sat up abruptly, sweeping some papers off the coffee table.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up—”
Miriam looked at her in bemusement as Bailey ran after one of the papers and started chewing its corner. “Was I interrupting something?”
“No, no, of course not…”
Her sister looked guilty, though. What on earth about? Miriam bent down to retrieve a paper from Bailey’s sharp little teeth. “Don’t eat that, puppy. It’s not good for you.”
It wasn’t until she was straightening it out to give back to Rachel that she saw what it was—a printout of details on a house for sale, a terraced cottage on the bottom end of the village, past the church. Miriam gazed down at it, realisation trickling in slowly.
“So I was interrupting something,” she said at last.
“I’m sorry, Miriam. I was going to talk to you about it.”
“About what, exactly?” Miriam turned around to face Rachel, who was now looking abject, her hands pleated in front of her. Oh, dear. “You’re thinking of buying a house?”
Rachel bit her lip, nodding. “Yes, I put an offer in this afternoon.”
“Wow.” She plonked herself on the sofa, her mind reeling at this sudden new development. “You didn’t think to tell me you were considering it, at least?”
“I wanted to, but it all happened so fast. Fellview sold, and then this house came up and it seemed perfect—”
“But I didn’t even know you were looking.” Miriam had known that Fellview, the huge pile Rachel and Dan had bought together to start their married life, had been on the market since their engagement had been called off. She just hadn’t realised selling it meant Rachel would want to buy something else. They’d only been living in this flat for a few months, and she thought they’d been happy together.
“I wasn’t looking, not exactly,” Rachel said, “but since Sam and I started dating, well, it’s all been a bit close for us, you know?”
“I thought that would be a good thing.”
“I think I did too, at least at first, but it’s just a bit…intense, especially with Nathan.” Nathan was Sam’s nephew and temporary-possibly-permanent ward; he was high maintenance, for sure, with potential special needs that had yet to be diagnosed. Rachel had been taking care of him on the nights when Sam had to work.
“I really like Sam,” Rachel said quietly. “And I want this relationship to work. And if we’re trying to get to know each other while living on top of each other, with no space apart, I’m afraid it won’t.” Which Miriam supposed was reasonable, especially considering all the circumstances. Still, it left her homeless. She couldn’t afford the rent here on her own.
“You can move in with me,” Rachel continued. “Of course, no question. There are two bedrooms…”
Miriam gazed at her sister, knowing she meant well. She meant every word, absolutely, but the reality was the last thing Rachel needed was a pregnant sister and possibly a newborn baby cramping her style as well as her fledgling romance. Besides, Miriam had known for a while that she would eventually need to find her own place. She couldn’t coast on other people’s generosity forever. She’d been doing that long enough.
“Or if you’d rather,” Rachel continued doggedly, “Sam has said you can stay here, and he’ll reduce the rent until you can find a roommate.”
A roommate? Miriam shuddered at the thought. She didn’t know anyone in Thornthwaite anymore, at least not with roommate potential. Her friends had all moved on or out, and the parishioners she knew weren’t exactly looking for a flat-share.
“That’s very kind of Sam, but I imagine he needs the money.”
“Still…”
Miriam shook her head. She was tired of being indebted to just about everyone, the village’s screwup and subsequent charity case. “Don’t worry, Rachel, this makes sense for you. I’ll figure something out.”
But what, she had no idea.
She was still mulling over the possibilities, or lack of them, as she headed to the vicarage the next morning. The glorious sunshine of the previous afternoon had lost the battle to clouds and rain, and today it was dark and gloomy, the rain spattering the pavement as if it couldn’t decide whether to move into deluge territory or not. The decision was made as Miriam turned into the vicarage lane, and the heavens opened. Groaning, she threw her arms up over her head and sprinted—or as close to it as she could manage—the rest of the way.
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“Miriam, you’re soaked.” Simon clucked over her as he ushered her into the vicarage’s chilly and cavernous foyer. “Come back to the kitchen for a cup of tea before you start. You can dry your coat on the Agaga.”
It was strange, although becoming a little less so, to head back to the cosy kitchen of her childhood, minus her mother’s warm presence, the sweet smell of baking that always scented the air. Simon kept the kitchen tidy and neat, perhaps a bit too much so, compared to the lovable clutter Miriam was used to.
Charlie, the family’s black Lab whom Simon had taken on, wagged his tail against the floor as Miriam bent down to stroke him.
“Hey, old boy.” He pressed his grey muzzle against her hand as Simon switched on the kettle. “So what am I doing today?” Miriam asked brightly as she straightened. “Filing more newsletters? Typing up the weekly bulletin?” She couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Simon had hired her to be kind rather than because he genuinely needed her, although he insisted he did, because he was useless at admin and had the typing speed of a snail. Still, she tried her best.
“Actually, I was hoping you could have a look at the church website,” Simon said. “It’s been bothering me for ages, because it looks a bit tired. Your father always meant to update it, but as you know he wasn’t big on the tech side of things.”
“You could say that again.” Roger Holley had preferred handwritten notes to emails, and stubbornly refused to adopt any social media or apps or even a mobile phone. He’d insisted on doing things the old-fashioned way, and in a village like Thornthwaite, it had served him well.
“I’d like something a bit more user-friendly and engaging,” Simon continued. “Something that showcases parish life, but also the area, since we get a fair number of tourists through, especially in the summer.”
“I’ll do my best, Simon,” Miriam said, “but you know I’m not professional.” When Rachel and Esther had encouraged her to take this job, they’d talked up her computer skills a bit too much. Miriam had made her own photography website ages ago, but it was the kind of point-and-click one you bought out of the box, and she doubted she was qualified to revamp a real website.
“I don’t need professional,” Simon said. “I need heart and creativity. You know Thornthwaite, both village and church, inside and out. I think you’re the perfect person to do it. Plus, I thought you could use some of your own photos. I had a look at your website and they’re really quite good.”
“Oh, wow, well…” Although she’d put her photos up on her website, she hadn’t actually thought anyone had looked at them, except perhaps her parents and sisters.
“I’m serious, Miriam. You’ve got an eye.” Simon smiled at her, as friendly as ever. “Don’t put yourself down. You can do this.”
Feeling bolstered by his pep talk, Miriam took her mug of tea into the study, which was warmed by the wood stove in the fireplace, the heavy velvet drapes drawn against the rainy day.
“I’m just popping out for a baptism visit,” Simon told her, sticking his head through the door. “But I’ll be back in an hour or two and you can let me know how you’re getting on.”
“All right, will do.” A few minutes later Miriam was clicking through the pages of the church’s website, which were indeed looking tired, the font tiny, the pictures grainy. It could certainly use a facelift, with better, brighter photos, links to village clubs and societies as well as the church’s own activities, everything a bit brighter and fresher…
Interest flickered through her, despite the voice in her head that kept telling her she couldn’t do this, because she never did anything. She’d been listening to that voice for a long time, and she didn’t even know why. All through her travels and adventures, part of her had hung back, insisting this was all she was good for—menial jobs and moving on.
But now as she surfed through various website-building packages, and then looked at her own photos, that voice faded out, replaced by genuine interest—and that ever-present desire to do something positive and constructive with her life.
“How is it going?” Simon asked, and Miriam nearly jumped in her chair.
“You’re back already?” She glanced at the clock, amazed to see than an hour and a half had gone by. She’d been so immersed in her ideas for the website that she hadn’t noticed.
“You haven’t even drunk your tea,” Simon laughingly scolded, and Miriam glanced at the mug of now tepid tea with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, I was concentrating on the computer.”
“Sounds promising. Why don’t you tell me about it while we walk over to the coffee morning?”
“Coffee morning?” Miriam looked at him, startled. The church put on a coffee morning for the village in its hall every Thursday, but she hadn’t attended since she was a child, and she certainly didn’t want to attend now. Walking into that overwarm room with its smell of PE socks and instant coffee, fifty pairs of beady eyes on her and her bump? No, thank you.
“Yes, I usually pop in for a bit,” Simon answered easily. “The cake is delicious, as I’m sure you know.”
“You go on.” Miriam tried for her usual light tone and for once didn’t quite manage it. “I’ll keep working here, and tell you some of my ideas when you get back.”
But Simon was already shaking his head, and then wagging a finger at her, as well, which sent her back right up. “Come on, Miriam. It will do you good. You’ve been avoiding the church family since you came back to Thornthwaite, and I think you need to see them. Face them.”
“I really don’t.”
“And they’d like to talk to you.” Simon looked at her earnestly. “I know you overheard Dorothy yesterday, but she means well. She’s concerned, as are plenty of other people. No one thinks ill of you, trust me.”
Miriam shook her head. She was so not ready to face that, and she was annoyed that Simon was trying to jolly her into it. “Sorry, Simon, but coffee mornings were not part of the deal. I know you mean well, just like Dorothy of the parsnips does, but I’m staying here.” She folded her arms, perfectly willing to stare him down.
“Miriam, I really do think it would be good for you,” Simon said, his tone gentling, his look still so earnest. “You’re part of this community. You’re part of this church.”
“I haven’t actually been part of this church for about four years,” Miriam returned, even though it felt a bit mean. Hurt flashed across Simon’s face before he evened his expression out.
“You are part of it, whether you want to be or not. And I do think people want to help—”
Miriam had had enough of his well-meaning pressure. “No, Simon,” she said firmly. “I’m not going. End of. Sorry, but that’s the way it is.”
Simon stared at her for a moment, and then he nodded. “I’ll be back in half an hour or so,” he said, and as he left the study, Miriam couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t mentioned the website again. Was he no longer interested? Had it just been a sweetener to get her to go to that wretched coffee morning? The thought hurt.
Alone in the vicarage, she tried to go back to her work on the website, but she couldn’t concentrate. She felt angry and guilty and entirely out of sorts, annoyed with herself as much as with Simon. Why had he pushed it on her? Why did everyone feel as if they had to interfere and fix her?
She knew she needed fixing, but she was the one who wanted to do it. She didn’t want to accept handout after handout, the people in her life trying to sort all her problems. And now the website, which she’d been genuinely excited about, had been spoiled along with everything else.
The doorbell rang, and Miriam stilled at her desk. In the hushed quiet she decided not to answer it. Whoever had rung would figure out Simon wasn’t here, and they’d most likely find him at the coffee morning about fifty yards away. She turned back to her computer, trying to focus, but her mind felt completely scattered.
“Hello? Anyone home?” The disembodied voice floated through the foyer, and after a second Miriam recognised
it. Dan.
Reluctantly she got up and poked her head out the study door. “Hi, Dan. If you’re looking for Simon, he’s at the coffee morning in the church hall.”
“Oh, Miriam. I didn’t realise you’d be here.” He smiled easily, then noticed how disgruntled she clearly looked. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine,” Miriam said a bit shortly. “I’ve just had enough of well-meaning neighbours.”
“Then you’re living in the wrong place,” Dan said, his tone easy. “What’s up?”
She shook her head, still annoyed, mostly with herself. “Oh, Simon wanted me to go over to the coffee morning and I refused. The last thing I need is a bunch of nosy old parishioners looking me up and down.” Her throat tightened and she folded her arms. “I know he means well, and he’s trying to get me involved or something like that, but it won’t work.”
Dan eyed her thoughtfully. “Why won’t it work?”
“Because I don’t want to get involved.”
“Why are you in Thornthwaite, then? You came home for a reason, I expect.”
“Yes, because I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“You must have had somewhere—”
“No,” she snapped. “I really didn’t. Not you too, Dan, please.”
“Sorry.” He grimaced. “I understand wanting to keep under the radar, trust me.”
“Do you, really?”
“I’ve had my fair share of interference—kindly old ladies inviting me over for supper, baking me cookies, telling me to get back out there, someone is sure to snap me up. For some reason there’s always food involved.” He patted his trim stomach ruefully.
“Lucky you, then,” Miriam answered with a laugh. “No one’s feeding me—not that I need it.”
“They really all do mean well, even if you’d just rather be left alone.”
Miriam sighed, her irritation leaving her in a defeated rush. “Truthfully? I don’t know what I want. I can’t stay in this limbo forever—avoiding people, not making any decisions about—about this baby.” She rested one hand on her bump, in a way she rarely did. “Time’s running out.”