by Kate Hewitt
“Right. Saw that on Instagram. But you said he’s in China now?”
“Yes.” The waiter came back with her Coke, and she took a sip of gratefully, glad to have something to do. “I have three older sisters,” she said finally. “And I had a brother, Jamie, but he died when I was two.”
“I’m so sorry…”
“I don’t remember him. Everyone else does, though.”
“That must be tough.”
“Yes.” She appreciated his understanding, and something in her thawed. “Yes, it can be. What about you?”
He shrugged. “I have an older sister, I’ve lived in Nottingham all my life, I’m looking forward to living in London.”
“This consultancy thing?”
“Yes. It’s not one of the really prestigious firms, but…I’m excited.”
“That’s nice.” They lapsed into silence, clearly both at a loss.
“So when you found out you were pregnant,” Rory finally said, clearing his throat. “You didn’t think of…you know…”
It took Miriam a few awful seconds to realise what he was trying to say. “No, never. I couldn’t do that.”
“Right. Sorry.” He nodded, and kept nodding, looking abashed.
“Would you have wanted me to?”
Rory raked a hand through his hair. “How am I supposed to answer that? I mean, you are having this baby… I can’t exactly say I would have wanted you to terminate it.”
Which pretty much answered the question. Miriam took another sip of Coke, feeling shaken.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked about it,” Rory said.
“I suppose I shouldn’t have, either.”
“You said it was a girl. Have you thought of names?”
“A bit. I haven’t settled on one, though.” And she did not really feel like asking for his opinion. This was so awkward. Miriam shifted in her seat, wishing the meal was already over. They hadn’t even ordered yet.
Fortunately, the waiter came to take their orders then, and they spent the next five minutes getting as much conversational mileage out of the menu selection as they possibly could, before lapsing once again into silence.
“I feel like I don’t know what to say,” Rory said at last. “There must be a million things to talk about, but I can’t think of a single one.”
“I know what you mean.” Miriam shook her head. “We did everything in the wrong order.” An observation that made her blush. No kidding.
“How long have you been back in Thornthwaite?”
“Since July.”
“And we met in Sydney…”
“In May.”
“Right. That was a crazy party.”
She did not want to talk about that. In cringing truth, she could barely remember the experience that had brought her to this blessed state. She’d been feeling reckless, the sand had been scratchy beneath her, it had been over quite quickly. Nothing at all memorable, except the result.
“So are you working?” Rory asked, a bit desperately, and Miriam realised guiltily just how unhelpful she was being, thinking only of herself and how she felt.
“Yes, I have two part-time jobs, both admin, one at the church and one at the local vet’s.”
“So nothing you couldn’t leave, then.”
She stared at him in shock. What was he suggesting…? “I mean if, you know, you decided to move. Cumbria is a long way from London.” His point being…? “I want to be involved in my daughter’s life.” Rory’s face took on a stubborn set. “Even if we don’t… I mean, look, I know this is really odd, but we clearly have some chemistry. We could try…”
“You mean you want to…date?” she asked uncertainly.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
Thankfully their food came then, saving Miriam from having to answer.
They spent the next fifteen minutes doggedly eating, so as to avoid talking or even looking at each other. Miriam had never been so thankful for a plate of pasta in her life.
“Look, maybe we could try this again,” Rory said once their plates had been cleared and the waiter was bringing the bill. “Maybe do something more fun. More date-like.”
“Such as?” Miriam asked, trying to sound enthused rather than horrified.
“I don’t know. What is there to do around here?”
“We could go for a walk. There are some beautiful places to see.”
Rory didn’t look particularly enthused by that idea, but he nodded. “Okay. How about a walk tomorrow? You pick the route.”
“Okay.” Miriam wished she could look forward to such a thing, but all she felt was dread, along with a heavy sense of obligation to give this—whatever this was—a go.
After parting ways with Rory at The Queen’s Sorrow, Miriam headed up the high street towards the surgery. She was both looking forward to seeing Dan, and bracing herself for his kindly interest in her so-called love life.
Just as she’d expected, he popped his head out of the back room as she came in to hang up her coat.
“How was it?”
“How was what?” she asked a bit grumpily, and then wished she hadn’t when he clarified, “Lunch with your bloke.”
Her bloke? “He’s not my anything, and it was all right, I suppose. Awkward.”
“Bound to be at first, though, don’t you think?”
“Yes, and there’s no real reason it should get better,” Miriam returned tartly. She didn’t think she could stand another minute of Dan’s friendly encouragement. “I’m seeing him again tomorrow, and I’m not expecting it to be any easier.”
“Why not?” Dan came into the front room, his head cocked, his expression kindly and concerned. “Why not give it a chance, Miriam? Is it because you’re afraid it might not work out?”
She stared at him despairingly. That wasn’t what she was afraid of at all, yet she could hardly put it into words. It didn’t even make sense to her, much less to Dan.
“I’m just not sure I’m ready to be in a relationship,” she said, which was at least part of the truth. “Especially with someone I barely know.”
“But you could get to know him…”
“Yes. I know.” It was what her family was telling her, what it felt like everyone was telling her, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept.
“Sorry.” Dan gave her an abashed grin. “Clearly my advice is not appreciated.”
Miriam cringed guiltily. “I’m sorry, Dan, I’m being a right cow…”
“No, not at all. I’m being a nosy parker. It’s just…” He paused, a slight flush colouring his cheeks. “I want you to be happy, Miriam. I care about you.”
Miriam’s heart flip-flopped in her chest at this admission, and then she remembered that he was saying this as the reason why he was encouraging her to make a go of it with Rory. He cared about her, as a friend. Of course he did.
“Thanks, Dan,” she murmured, and thankfully after that they both got to work, and no one mentioned Rory again all afternoon.
That evening, when Miriam was tucked back in her annexe, with a blanket over her bump and the latest episode of Gilmore Girls on her laptop, someone knocked on her door with a deliberate rat-a-tat-tat. With a sigh Miriam went to get it.
“I knew it was you,” she said as she opened the door to Esther.
“You did? How?”
“You knocked with intent.”
“Mmm. Sounds like a crime.”
“It should be,” Miriam said as she headed back to the sofa, Gilmore Girls regretfully still paused.
“Why are you so grumpy?” Esther asked.
“Because I’m assuming you’re here to talk about Rory. Are you?”
“Yes.” Esther was unabashed as she sat down opposite Miriam. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“How did lunch go?” Miriam shrugged. “Miriam. Come on. Everyone is waiting with bated breath to find out if the two of you are going to get together—”
“Please don’t tell me that.” Miriam pu
lled the blanket around her shoulders. “That is the last thing I need to hear right now.”
“Sounds like it didn’t go very well, then.”
“It didn’t go well or not well. It just was. Look, we’re strangers—”
“So you keep saying.”
“I’m not sure we have anything in common.”
“You have something crucial in common,” Esther returned with a pointed look at her bump.
Miriam sighed. “I know, which is why I’m seeing him again tomorrow.”
“You don’t sound so thrilled.”
“I’m not,” Miriam admitted.
Esther was, uncharacteristically, silent for a moment. “Is this because of Dan?” she finally asked.
“Dan? What…?” Miriam tried to sound incredulous and affronted, and managed neither. Esther’s eyes narrowed shrewdly.
“You have a crush on him, don’t you? It’s understandable.”
Miriam didn’t have it in her to bluster anymore. “Is it obvious?” she asked in a small voice.
“To me. Probably not to anybody else.” Esther sounded smugly satisfied that she’d figured it out, but then she shook her head. “Oh, Miriam.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Miriam felt her throat thickening, and willed herself not to cry.
“I’m not disappointed. I’m just sad for you. Don’t mess things up with Rory just because of Dan.”
Ouch. “Why not?” Miriam asked. “Why is Rory a better bet than Dan?”
“Because he’s the father of your child,” Esther said rather sternly. “And he deserves a chance. As for Dan…” She hesitated, and Miriam held her breath. As for Dan…what? “Do you really see that going anywhere?” Esther’s voice was cringingly gentle. “I mean, he’s lovely, I know that. And kind. And he’s not bad on the eyes, either. But he’s seven years older than you, Miriam, and of course there’s Rachel, plus you’re about to have a baby. Don’t you think he just sees you as a friend?”
“Thanks for spelling it out for me there.” Miriam couldn’t keep a note of bitterness from edging her voice. Did Esther have to be so blunt? “Anyway, I know he’s only a friend. He’s made that clear.”
“He has? How—”
“He wants me to get together with Rory as much as you do.”
“Ah.” Esther smiled in sympathy. “Sorry, Miri.”
“Don’t be. Dan isn’t the reason I’m not thrilled to be with Rory. I just don’t want to jump into a relationship because of what happened between us before. I don’t want to compound my first mistake by making an even bigger second one.”
“But there’s only one way to find that out, isn’t there?”
“Which, again, is why I’m going out with him tomorrow.”
“I’m glad of that,” Esther said, “but that doesn’t mean you’re actually giving him a chance. Emotionally.” No, it didn’t, and Miriam was honest enough with herself, if not with Esther, to acknowledge that. She hadn’t given Rory much of a chance at all. “So tomorrow, on this walk,” Esther said. “You’re going to have an open mind—and heart. You’re going to try. Properly. Okay?”
“Okay,” Miriam answered in a grumble. “I will. Happy now?”
“Getting there,” Esther returned with a smile.
She left a short while later, but as much as she wanted to, Miriam couldn’t get back into Gilmore Girls and enjoy the rest of her evening.
She was feeling grumpy and tearful and decidedly out of sorts, plus she had a headache and no pain relief. She thought about heading over to Dan’s to ask him for a couple of ibuprofen, but she didn’t feel like seeing him again. In the end she just went to bed, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a splitting headache that definitely required some kind of pain relief.
She stumbled downstairs, her head and heart both thudding, her stomach churning. She searched the cupboards for ibuprofen or paracetamol again, fruitlessly, for there was nothing. Then, remembering Dan had given her a spare key to his house, she decided to go over there and find something. She knew where the medicine cupboard was, and hopefully she wouldn’t wake up Dan. She was desperate. She couldn’t think for the pain in her head.
As soon as Miriam stepped out into the dark and frigid night, she reconsidered the wisdom of heading across the pitch-black lawn, lit only by the tiny beam of her phone, in her pyjamas. She’d forgotten a dressing gown or slippers, and within two or three steps she was absolutely freezing.
Plus she wasn’t sure that breaking into Dan’s house at two in the morning was the best thing to do. What if he woke up and thought she was an intruder? He might call the police or hit her over the head with a cricket bat.
But her head was pounding, and she was pretty sure he had ibuprofen, so, shivering, she fit the key into the lock of the back door and slipped quietly inside.
Everything was cloaked in soft darkness, the only light coming from the digital clock on top of the stove. Miriam tiptoed across the kitchen to the medicine cupboard above the sink, riffling through the neatly ordered packets and boxes as quietly as she could. She found the ibuprofen, breathing a sigh of relief, and was about to turn to go when she heard a creak on the stairs.
Miriam froze, her heart hammering, as she wondered what to do. Call out a warning—or would that startle him even more? What if he wasn’t planning on coming into the kitchen? Or what if it wasn’t even Dan—maybe it was just the house settling, or the wind…
Then Dan came into the kitchen, raking a hand through his hair, wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama bottoms. Miriam stood transfixed by the sight of his bare chest in a way she knew she shouldn’t have been.
He didn’t see her as he walked to the fridge, opened it, and took out a carton of orange juice. Miriam knew she should say something, but she felt frozen, trapped, pinned in place. Maybe he would just drink his juice and go…
Then he turned around, the carton raised to his lips, and drank down a few gulps before his gaze snagged hers and he leapt back, hitting the fridge, so juice went spraying everywhere.
“For… You scared the daylights out of me!”
“Sorry,” Miriam whispered. She reached for the carton that had fallen to the floor. “Now I know your big secret,” she joked feebly. “You drink from the carton.”
“Miriam…what are you doing here?”
“Sorry—” she said again.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes, fine, I just had a splitting headache and no pain relief, and I thought I’d sneak in here and get some ibuprofen…” Now that she said it out loud, it sounded remarkably bold—and stupid. “Sorry,” she said for a third time.
“No, don’t be.” Dan’s surprise had morphed quickly into concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Just a headache.” Which was still pounding painfully.
“Let me get you some water.” He stood next to her as he reached for a glass and then filled it at the sink. Miriam’s gaze kept sneaking towards his chest and then darting back to his face as her own heated. Could he see how she was looking at him?
He handed her the glass of water, his fingers brushing hers as she took it with murmured thanks. She felt him watching her as she swallowed the pills, praying they wouldn’t get stuck in her throat. And still he stood there, watching her. Close.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice coming out in little more than a whisper. Dan didn’t answer, and she glanced up at him, jolted by the look in his eyes. Her breath caught and her headache disappeared as he gazed down at her, their bodies and faces so very close. Surely he wasn’t going to kiss her? Surely she was imagining the look of heat in his eyes?
Then the moment broke and Dan stepped back with a quick smile. “Let me walk you back…”
“No, no, I’m fine. I’m so sorry to disturb you—”
“I was up anyway.”
“Right.” She turned away, her headache back in full force, her mind and heart both in a jumble. She didn’t even know what she jabbered at him before she threw o
pen the door and hurried out into the darkness.
Chapter Seventeen
“So where are we going?”
Miriam tried to return Rory’s megawatt smile, and hoped she managed it. The truth was, she felt dreadful after a sleepless night, the remnants of her headache still clinging to her and making her feel even more miserable. But she had to try. She’d promised Esther that, and despite that weird moment between her and Dan last night, Miriam knew she needed to do this. For her sake, for Rory’s sake, and most of all, for their daughter’s sake.
“I thought we’d take a walk around Buttermere,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m not up for proper hiking.”
“Buttermere…?”
“It’s a lake. One of them.”
“And here I was, thinking it sounded like a rather nice drink.” Rory’s smile was a little lopsided, his blue eyes glinting.
“I think you’re thinking of butterbeer, perhaps?” Miriam said with a smile in return, and Rory grinned.
“I probably was. I always had a hankering to go to Hogsmeade.”
Miriam’s heart lightened as she realised that Rory had to be a Harry Potter fan, just as she was. At least they had that in common.
It was a gorgeous winter’s day, cold and clear, as they drove in Rory’s car to Buttermere, bringing Bailey with them since Rachel had trouble giving her properly long walks. Miriam was happy to be reunited with the puppy again; in the last few months, Bailey had become huge, just as she had.
They parked behind The Bridge Hotel and then walked towards the path that ran along the circumference of the lake, which now sparkled in the winter sunshine.
“Wow.” Rory looked suitably impressed as they started along, Bailey scampering ahead of them, the view breathtaking in every direction. “I feel like I’m in the middle of a postcard.”
“You probably are. This view is certainly on a few biscuit tins and chocolate boxes.”
“It’s gorgeous, but did you ever feel isolated, living way up here? I mean, where’s the nearest McDonald’s?”
“Not that far away.” They fell into step, Bailey still ahead of them, although Miriam had her eye on her.
“I know, but still. It’s pretty remote, isn’t it?”