by Kate Hewitt
“So.” Rachel took a deep breath. “What are you thinking, Miriam? I mean, what are you going to do?”
“How many options do I have?”
“Well…” Rachel hesitated, not wanting to verbalise the possibilities.
“Rachel, I couldn’t do that.” Miriam looked genuinely shocked. “If that’s even what you’re suggesting—”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I just want to know what your thoughts are right now.”
“I don’t know. I’ve been feeling so rough and trying not to think about any of it.” Miriam let out a long, gusty sigh. “But I know I need to.”
“What about…the father?”
“No.” The one word was flat, final.
“Shouldn’t you tell him?”
“He wouldn’t want to know, Rachel. Sorry, but that’s the sad truth.” Miriam closed her eyes, her face starting to crumple again. “It all sounds so horrible, doesn’t it? It is horrible.”
“It’s a baby, Miri,” Rachel said gently. “Mum and Dad’s first grandchild. Even in the midst of…everything, that’s something to celebrate.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, it most certainly is. Babies are wonderful.” She’d intended to have five herself, once upon a dream. “There’s no doubt about that, even if the timing or circumstances aren’t right. I believe that with all my heart.”
“Yeah, sure.” Miriam smiled tiredly. “They’re always a miracle.”
“They are,” Rachel insisted, and then decided to stop. Miriam didn’t need a lecture. Not now, anyway. “Have you told anyone else yet?”
“Nope. I haven’t done anything, Rach. I haven’t even sorted out where I’m going to live, because I can’t stay here, especially not if I’m pregnant, and I am pregnant.” She let out a weary laugh. “Imagine the gossip: the vicar with the former vicar’s pregnant daughter, no father in sight.”
“Forget the gossip. People in Thornthwaite aren’t as judgemental as you think. But I agree with you, it would be better not to live here. I feel the same. We both need fresh starts, Miriam, away from the vicarage and what it once was.”
“Yes, but where?”
Rachel thought of the sunny flat, the skylight, the two bedrooms. It was perfect. All right, maybe not perfect—two flights up wasn’t ideal for a baby or a pregnant woman. But the price was right and it was big enough for them both. And as much as she loved this dear old house, she knew she didn’t belong here anymore. Simon needed his fresh start, and so would Anna after their wedding in just a few months. She and Miriam needed to move on, even if it was just down the road.
“I might have a place,” she told Miriam. “A flat in the village. It’s not Keswick, but it’s somewhere a bit different.”
“A flat?” For the first time in what felt like forever Miriam looked a bit interested and lively, a faint reminder of her old self. “Where?”
“Above The Bell.” Which really wasn’t ideal for a baby, but still. It was a place to live that wasn’t here.
“The Bell? You seem to have a history with that place.”
Rachel grimaced. “Not really. But there is a flat available, and the rent is cheap.”
Now Miriam was the one to grimace. “I don’t have any money, Rach. I’ve been living on pocket change.”
“Don’t worry about that—”
“What am I going to do?” Miriam cried, covering her eyes with her hand. “Twenty-three years old, penniless, homeless, and pregnant, with no qualifications. Why didn’t I go to uni? Not that it would even matter now.”
“Let’s tackle one thing at a time, Miriam, shall we?” Rachel said in her best, briskest teacher’s voice. “First, a place to stay. We’ll deal with the other things as they come along.”
“One of them has already come along,” Miriam retorted, patting her still-bumpless stomach.
“We have time,” Rachel returned. “Do you know how far along you are?”
“The nurse thought ten weeks or so. I’ll have a scan in a couple of weeks to determine my due date.”
“Well, that’s exciting.”
“Yes.” Miriam sounded unconvinced, and Rachel felt a rush of sympathy for her sister. Both of their lives had become derailed, albeit in different ways. “We’ll get through this,” Rachel said. “Trust me. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy or even fun, but we’ll get through it.”
That night she talked to Simon privately about her and Miriam’s plan to move. Simon managed to seem disappointed as well as relieved, both reactions that Rachel understood. He had his own life to think of, but she knew he had wanted to help her and Miriam out.
“Are you sure, Rachel? I do have acres of space…”
“Yes, but you and Anna will need your own place once you’re married, and Miriam and I need to find our own.” She smiled wryly. “Also, it makes me feel like even more of a saddo, to be living at my parents’ old house when my wedding has been called off.”
“I never meant—”
“It’s not you, Simon. It just is. It’s better if Miriam and I have our own place. Fresh start and all that.”
“Is Miriam all right?” Simon’s forehead crinkled in concern. “She’s seemed to be a bit a down lately…”
“She’ll be all right.” Her sister’s secret was not Rachel’s to divulge. “In time.”
Simon nodded sympathetically. “Broken heart?”
“Something like that.” Rachel had no idea if poor Miriam had her heart broken by some uncaring Australian, but the very fact that she insisted the father of her baby wouldn’t want to know about it was a cause for deep concern and sadness.
Jasper was much less accepting of Rachel’s decision to move out of the vicarage. “You mean it’s just going to be me and Simon rattling about in this place?” he exclaimed in not-so-mock horror. “We’ll be a pair of grumpy old bachelors, driving each other absolutely batty.”
“I’m not going to be a bachelor for much longer,” Simon reminded him.
“Exactly.” Jasper shuddered. “It’ll just be me. Rachel, really, you’re abandoning me here.” He gazed at her with his puppy-dog eyes, hands outstretched dramatically. “Don’t you feel guilty?”
“No,” Rachel answered with a smile. Jasper was charming, almost too much so, and she was not as immune as she would like to be. The further away she got from his brand of affable attractiveness, the better. She was most definitely not ready for that kind of complication in her life.
“You will visit, though?” Jasper pressed. “Sunday dinners every week. I insist.”
“Who’s cooking?” Rachel challenged. They were all deplorable cooks.
“I will, if you’ll come. Both of you.” Jasper turned to Miriam, smiling. “I’ll make a roast dinner every Sunday evening.”
“Sounds like a good deal to me,” Simon chimed in and Rachel relented.
“All right, that’s a very kind offer. We’ll be there on Sunday. But in any case, we’re only moving down the road, so I’m sure we’ll bump into each other on a regular basis.” Although not too regular, if she could help it. Jasper’s twinkling eyes promised differently.
“What have you got against Jasper?” Miriam asked later, when they were alone upstairs. Rachel looked at her in surprise.
“Nothing. He’s lovably charming.”
“Then why were you acting as if having dinner here once a week was akin to torture?”
“I wasn’t,” Rachel retorted indignantly. “And it wouldn’t be torture. That’s the problem.”
“Ah.” Miriam nodded wisely. “It’s like that, is it?”
“It’s not like that. I just don’t need that kind of distraction right now.”
“So he is a distraction?”
“No.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “I mean, he could be, but the last thing I want is to even think about dating someone right now. Not that I would date him,” she added hurriedly, noting Miriam’s sceptical expression, “or that he’d even want to date me. But he’s a bit of a temptation as
well as a flirt and I just don’t want to deal with that now.”
“I suppose I can understand that,” Miriam answered on a sigh. “I certainly don’t want to deal with anyone of the opposite sex in just about forever.”
Which begged so many more questions, but Rachel chose not to ask them. They would have time later to sort through the detritus of their decision-making.
The only thing left to do to sort their new accommodation was, in fact, inform Sam West—something Rachel knew she should have done before telling Simon of her plans, but for some reason Sam West made her feel apprehensive, in an entirely different way from Jasper.
She went into The Bell on Wednesday afternoon, a day of sleeting rain and chill wind, reminding everyone yet again that autumn in the Lake District really began in August, or if it was a particularly unlucky year, at the start of the summer holidays.
“Hi, Sam,” she said brightly, causing two farmers at the bar to look up from their pints at her with baleful stares. “I wonder if I could talk to you about the flat?”
“You can.” He regarded her in his stony way, and Rachel wondered what it would take to make the man smile properly.
“I was hoping it was still available—”
“It is.”
“And that my sister and I could move in as soon as possible.”
“You can.”
“Would you like a deposit?”
He shrugged. “I trust you.”
For some reason that made Rachel feel rather pleased. “Oh, well. Thank you—”
“It’s a small village,” he explained, which made her feel a little less pleased, but why on earth should he trust her, especially considering how they first met?
“The only other matter I wanted to ask about was…” She paused, and Sam arched an eyebrow, his arms folded across his impressive chest. “I’m meant to be getting a puppy next week,” Rachel continued in a rush. “A darling little Golden Retriever. I thought I’d be living somewhere else, which is why—well, anyway. I don’t have to get the puppy, of course. I mean, I could tell them I’ve changed my mind. But I really wanted a dog and if you thought it was okay then I wondered if maybe, just maybe, I could bring the puppy as well?” Her words had jumbled together so fast Rachel wasn’t sure he understood. He didn’t reply for a few seconds, at any rate.
“A flat’s not really a place for a puppy.”
“No, I know, but I’ve got time to walk her, and…I’ll be really careful, honestly. Promise.” She tried not to think about how puppies chewed things, and yipped and barked and did wees everywhere. She certainly tried not to let all that show in her face.
A full minute ticked by while Sam just looked at her. Then he nodded. “All right, you can bring the puppy.”
“Oh, thank you—”
“Do you need help moving your stuff?” She blinked in surprise. “I’m only asking because I’ve got a van.”
“Oh, well…” All her stuff was piled in the garage of the dream house—and she couldn’t afford to hire a mover. “That would be kind of you, thanks.” Sam just nodded, and with a little jolt Rachel realised how tangled her life was becoming with his. He was her landlord, her neighbour, and now he was acting like her friend. Yet she still felt as if she barely knew him at all.
“Just let me know when you want it.”
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
His mouth quirked—was that actually a smile? “In a hurry?”
“Just want to get on with things,” she said a little stiffly, and Sam nodded.
“Right, then. Tomorrow it is. Nine o’clock areet? I’ll need to open up the pub at eleven.”
“Perfect.” She gave a little nod of farewell, followed by an uncertain smile, and then, not knowing what else to do, she left.
That afternoon she decided to drive to Will and Esther’s to tell her sister of her plans. Pulling up in front of the long, low farmhouse of white stone, smoke coming from the chimney, the black shutters newly painted, Rachel felt a little twist of envy she tried to suppress.
Esther and Will had had a hard time of it lately, first with Esther’s miscarriage and then an ensuing bump on their road to marital bliss, but they certainly seemed solid together now, and Esther looked happier than she had in months, if not years. Considering the state of Rachel’s own life, it was hard for her not to feel the teeniest pinprick of envy—or maybe not so teensy.
“You’re what?” Esther exclaimed as soon as she’d banged the kettle on the Aga and nudged their five-month-old black Lab, Lola, from in front of the range’s warmth. She turned around to face Rachel, her arms folded. “You’re leaving the vicarage to live in some grotty flat above The Bell?”
“Did I say that? The flat is not grotty. It’s actually really nice. Sam’s done it up—”
“Sam, is it?”
“Oh, please. He’s my landlord now, and he’s helping me move tomorrow.”
“Hmm.”
Rachel rolled her eyes at her sister’s predictable reaction. “What exactly are you objecting to, Esther? Or is it just that you don’t like to be the last to know?”
“It has nothing to do with knowing or not knowing. I just don’t want you to do something stupid on the rebound.”
“Ouch.” Rachel shook her head slowly, absorbing this bluntly made statement. “Trust me, Sam West is not my type. In fact, if you really want to know, part of the reason I’m leaving the vicarage is because of Jasper.”
“You mean Lord Hartleigh?” Esther retorted sardonically. “Tell me something hasn’t happened with him.”
“No, of course nothing has!” Rachel exclaimed. “I was about to get married three weeks ago, remember? I’m not about to rush into a relationship, but I don’t really feel like dealing with that kind of complication right now.”
“And Jasper tempts you? I suppose he is a bit of a flirt, but he seems so shallow, Rach.”
“Shallow! Just because he’s rich?”
“I don’t know. He tootles about in his BMW and pretends to work on his CV… He’s a bit of a waste of space, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn’t ask you.” Rachel felt a bit stung on Jasper’s behalf over Esther’s cutting assessment. Jasper was nice enough, certainly, and in any case Esther barely knew him. “Anyway, he’s a friend only. Besides, he’s not the main reason why I’m leaving the vicarage. The truth is, I need a new start, not living out of my old childhood bedroom.” She sighed. “I know a flat above The Bell might not seem like much, but at least it’s something that’s mine.”
“I can understand that.” Esther nodded slowly. “And Miriam is going with you?”
“Yes, it’s better all around, isn’t it? The vicarage isn’t our home anymore. Simon’s lovely, but I don’t want to try to hold on to the past.”
“Good thing, since you can’t,” Esther answered with a brisk nod. “All right, then. I approve.”
“I didn’t realise I needed your approval,” Rachel teased, and Esther gave her a stern look.
“Since Mum and Dad are out of the country, I’m the matriarch of this family now. Of course you need my approval.”
Rachel laughed as the kettle began to whistle.
The next morning Sam’s van pulled up in front of the vicarage at five minutes to nine. Rachel was glad she hadn’t overslept; she’d envisioned strolling up to The Bell rather than Sam coming to her, striding purposefully up the front steps as if he was on the clock, which perhaps he was.
“You ready?” he asked as she opened the door, her hair damp from the shower and her feet still bare. He was dressed in his seeming uniform of white T-shirt and jeans, battered work boots on his feet and the usual grim expression on his face.
“Just about. Do you want to come in, have a coffee?”
“No, best we just get going.”
“Right.” As ever, he wasn’t the friendliest person, yet there was nothing precisely unfriendly about him, either. He just…was.
Rachel clambered into the passenger seat of the surpri
singly neat van; it smelled of air freshener and there were two travel cups of coffee in the drink holders between the seats. Sam nodded to them as he turned the key in the ignition. “One’s yours, if you want it.”
“Oh…” His refusal of coffee made sense now, and his thoughtfulness disarmed her. “Thanks.”
“Some sugar packets, as well.” He nodded towards the cups. “I didn’t know how you took it.”
“With plenty of sugar,” Rachel confessed, and opened one of the packets. “Thanks.”
“So where’s your stuff, then?”
“It’s in the garage of a house outside of the village. If you drive through to the top end, I’ll give you directions.”
Rachel’s heart flip-flopped at the thought of seeing her dream house again; she hadn’t been there since the wedding had been called off. She didn’t know how she’d feel when she did lay eyes on the place where she’d expected to live out the rest of her life, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to experience that moment in front of Sam West. Unfortunately, she had no choice.
They drove in silence through the village and then up a narrow lane that cut through the fells, Rachel only speaking to give directions, and Sam merely nodding in reply.
“Here it is,” she said at last, as they entered a hamlet that was no more than three or four houses. “Fellview, on the right.”
He turned into the driveway of the hulking house of slate-grey Lakeland stone perched on its lofty hill. Rachel swallowed hard as Sam stared at the place impassively.
“My stuff is in the garage,” she said. “I don’t have all that much, to be honest. I gave a lot of it away when—well, when.” She decided to stop there.
“All right, then,” Sam said, and started towards the garage. As he opened the door, it gave a groaning squeak. Sam glanced at her jumbled boxes and bins, a few pieces of battered furniture, and a dead houseplant she’d forgotten about. “Let’s get started,” he said, and heaved a coffee table onto his shoulder.
Chapter Eleven