by Kate Hewitt
“Miriam. This is starting to sound very dodgy.”
“I haven’t actually said anything—”
“Exactly.”
Miriam sighed. “I’m staying in Dan’s annexe.”
“What?” The single word was an un-Esther-like screech. “Dan Taylor?”
“Yes, Dan Taylor.”
“But…” Esther looked even more gobsmacked now. “But why? How? I mean…”
“I know it might seem a bit awkward, with Rachel, but she’s moved on and Dan deserves to, as well.”
Esther nearly staggered. “Tell me you’re not—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Esther, of course not!” Miriam fought a blush at the very idea. Her and Dan…never. It couldn’t happen, not that she’d even think of it for a minute. “He’s just being friendly. And more than that, it makes sense. I’m living in the annexe in exchange for working at the surgery ten hours a week, which he needs. It’s win-win for both of us.”
Esther shook her head slowly, hands planted on her hips. “I don’t know. It still seems…odd.”
“So I’m never to talk to Dan Taylor again because of Rachel?”
“Don’t be extreme. Talking to is different than living with.”
“And I’m not living with him,” Miriam retorted. “I’m in the annexe. It’s entirely separate.”
“I know it is.” Esther sighed and kept walking. “I suppose Rachel won’t mind too much, will she? She’s moved on, like you say.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you told her?” Esther shot her a shrewd look and Miriam lifted her chin.
“No, but I will.” She hadn’t even told Dan yet, and she hoped the offer was still open. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of having her own place that she was providing for herself. Dan was being kind, but she’d make sure it was worth it for him.
Back in the farmhouse Will was putting the sliced roast pork on the table, and the dogs rushed in, sniffing the meat-scented air excitedly.
“Put them in the back room,” Will ordered. “Lola hasn’t learned good table manners yet.”
Laughing, Esther herded the dogs into the back while Miriam kicked off her boots, relaxing into the warmth of the kitchen.
“You survived Esther’s grilling,” Will said with a teasing smile, and Miriam smiled back.
“Actually, it wasn’t that bad.” Considering Esther, it could have been a lot worse. And it had cemented in Miriam’s own mind that she needed to move on with her life, and start making decisions. She was looking forward to having her own place to live, so she really hoped Dan had meant what he’d said about her staying there.
Chapter Four
“So here it is.”
Dan unlocked the door to the stable annexe in the back of his property and stepped aside so Miriam could walk through.
She’d rung Dan last night, after her meal at Will and Esther’s, to ask him if the offer of accommodation was still on the table, and he’d responded with alacrity. Now, on Sunday evening, she was checking the place out to make sure it was suitable—and Miriam was quite sure it would be.
She stood in the centre of the open-plan living and kitchen area, noting the comfortable sofas in front of a wood burner, the French windows overlooking a small terrace and tiny patch of grass.
“It’s all a bit basic,” Dan said apologetically. “Straight from IKEA, I’m afraid.”
“It’s lovely.” It was slightly Premier Innish, with the bland furnishings and framed prints, but Miriam didn’t mind. It was comfortable and spacious, and it would be hers.
“Would you like to see the upstairs?”
She nodded, and Dan led her up the narrow stairs to the first floor, which had two bedrooms, one small and one large, and a bathroom done all in cream.
“What a view,” she said as she stood by the picture window in the master bedroom, gazing at the village laid out before her, St John’s Beck winking in the watery sunlight.
“Yes, it’s not bad, is it?” Dan came to stand behind her. “The view is what sold me on the property.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“Five years, since I took over from my father at the surgery.” He turned away, and Miriam was surprised by the faint repressiveness of his tone. What was that about? Dan was so open and friendly, she felt his sudden, slight remoteness like a shiver. She knew his father had died a few years ago, from a massive heart attack, and his mother when he was a teenager, but she didn’t feel she could ask about any of it now.
“It’s a lovely spot,” she said, and Dan nodded as he headed back down the stairs.
“Unless you’d like to see any more, how about we head over to mine for a coffee? We can discuss the details, not that there’s all that many.”
“All right.”
Miriam followed him across the small courtyard that separated the stable annexe from the barn conversion where he lived. She’d never actually been in Dan’s house, and now she looked around in curiosity, wondering about this man who was becoming her friend.
In reality, she had barely known Dan had existed until Rachel had announced her engagement. He’d been on the periphery of her life in the village, seven years older than her, having finished school and gone to uni by the time she was old enough to notice.
He’d returned to the village when she’d been finishing school, and he’d taken over his father’s practice after she’d left to travel the world. The most they’d shared since she’d returned to Thornthwaite in July had been a few jokey family dinners, before the wedding had been called off, as well as one visit to the vet for Bailey’s vaccinations. Now he was going to be her boss, her landlord, and maybe even her friend.
“Coffee or tea?” Dan asked as he filled the kettle at the deep sink. “Or something else?”
“Tea, please. I can only take so much coffee these days.”
“Understandable.”
She sat at the kitchen table in the open-plan living area, a bit surprised by how homey it all was, a far cry from the typical bachelor pad.
Dan’s house was simply decorated, with squashy leather sofas arranged around a large stone fireplace, the masculine décor punctuated with colourful tartan throws. A tall shelf of well-worn paperbacks stood against one wall, and there was a lovely black-and-white photograph of Scafell Pike in winter over the fireplace—the stark sweep of snowy mountain both bleak and beautiful.
“This is all really nice,” Miriam said. “Far homier than I would have imagined.”
Dan threw her a quick, smiling look. “Were you expecting empty beer cans and a large flat-screen TV?”
“Something like that, yes.”
“I think I put those days behind me a long time ago, if I ever had them.” He brought two mugs of tea to the table and sat down opposite them. “The truth is, I’ve always wanted to settle down.”
Miriam cradled her cup between her hands. “I suppose that made it even harder to call things off with Rachel,” she said tentatively, aware she was broaching more personal matters than perhaps Dan wanted to discuss.
He smiled wryly. “Why do you think I waited so long?”
“I haven’t actually told Rachel I’m planning on living here,” she said. “I mean, in the annexe.” She willed herself not to blush; clearly she had not needed to clarify that. “Do you think she’ll mind?”
Dan considered the question for a moment. “I shouldn’t see why she would,” he said at last. “Rachel and I have talked through what happened, forgiven each other, and she’s obviously moved on.” The implication being that he hadn’t? Miriam wasn’t going to ask.
“So working at the surgery,” she said brightly, hoping the switch in subject wasn’t too screechingly obvious. “What hours would you like me to do?”
Dan took the change in stride. “You work mornings at the vicarage, so how about afternoons? Three a week? It will just be answering phones and filing, as well as registering patients as needed.”
“I thi
nk I can manage that.” Hopefully. “What do you do in the mornings, without a receptionist?”
“I just muddle through. People ring a bell to let me know they’ve arrived.” He shrugged. “It’s always been a one-man operation.”
Which sounded a bit lonely. “And when shall I start?”
“As soon as you’d like, as far as I’m concerned. I need the help. When does Rachel move?”
“At the end of the month, but I can start sooner. It’s not as if I’m doing all that much, really.”
“All right, then why don’t you start next week?” He smiled. “If that’s not too soon?”
Miriam liked the idea of getting on with things. “Okay, then.”
She left soon after, walking down the high street past the post office shop and school, towards The Bell. With things moving forward so quickly, she would have to tell Rachel her plans tonight.
The thought made her feel a little nervous, and with a huff of laughter she wondered where the bolshie, bold-as-brass girl she’d once been had gone. Since returning to Thornthwaite and discovering she was pregnant, she’d become a shadow of herself, afraid of everything, always feeling incapable, hiding behind a thin veneer of attitude. Did returning home always reduce you to being a child, or was it the fact that she was having a child herself? Probably both.
At least she was taking positive steps—she had two jobs, her own home, and tomorrow she had promised herself she’d book that scan…and call the adoption agency in Carlisle that she’d found on the internet. She was moving forward.
Rachel was in the kitchen cooking when Miriam let herself into the flat, Bailey racing towards her. She’d miss the puppy when she moved, she thought with a pang as she bent to caress Bailey’s silky ears.
“Hey, where have you been?” Rachel called. “I’ve made a vat of pasta.”
“Sounds fab.” Miriam shed her coat and boots, knowing she needed to get this over with. What was she afraid of? Admittedly, Rachel could be rather emotional and OTT about some things, but at her heart she was loving and warm, and even Dan didn’t think she’d mind Miriam moving to his annexe. Still Miriam hesitated.
“Did you go for a walk?” Rachel asked as she brought two steaming and heaped plates of spaghetti to the little table in their sitting room. “Sorry, it’s just sauce from a jar.”
“Far better than my adzuki bean disaster.” A few months ago, Miriam had made a brief attempt to be healthy and proactive, which had resulted in an inedible meal and the continued feeling that she couldn’t do anything right. At least she could joke about it now.
“That was healthier though,” Rachel said. “So, where did you walk?”
Miriam sat down at the table and toyed with a few strands of pasta. “I didn’t go for a walk,” she answered, trying to sound cheerfully matter-of-fact and missing it by a bit. “I was actually sorting out my accommodation.”
“Your…” Rachel frowned. “Miriam, you can stay here, you know, or you can live with me—”
“And I told you I didn’t think either of those options were wise. You need your own space, Rachel—”
“I don’t—”
“Why else would you be moving? Sam is important to you and having me around twenty-four/seven isn’t going to help matters.”
“Then stay here…”
“And bilk Sam of the rent? No thanks. I’ve found something, so it’s all good.” She smiled, even as Rachel continued to frown.
“So where are you staying? With Esther…?”
“No, thank goodness. She offered, of course, but I’ve realised I want my own space too.”
“So…”
Miriam took a deep breath. “Dan has offered me the annexe behind his house, in exchange for working at his surgery ten hours a week.”
Rachel’s mouth fell open. “Dan…”
“Yes.” Miriam met her gaze, feeling surprisingly calm now that she’d told her. Really, how could Rachel protest? Like Dan had said, she’d moved on. And all Miriam was doing was living behind his house. And working for him, but still. It wasn’t as if there was anything remotely weird or inappropriate about it all.
“Wow.” Rachel shook her head slowly. “To be honest, I didn’t even realise you knew him, beyond, you know, my connection.”
“I didn’t, but I bumped into him a week or so ago and we got to chatting.”
“And from that he offered you a job and a house?”
“Pretty much.” Put like that, it sounded a bit dodgy, but Miriam knew Dan was only being both nice and sensible. “Do you mind?”
“Mind?” Rachel sat back in her chair, still looking flummoxed. “No, I don’t mind, not exactly. I mean…I shouldn’t, should I? Dan is free to live his own life, and so are you.”
Which made it sound as if they were dating or something. “Good,” Miriam said. “Dan said the same thing.”
“It sounds like you’ve had a few cosy chats.”
So now Rachel was going to be prickly. “Not really. I asked him if he thought you’d mind, and he said no. Really, Rachel, it’s just a friendly business arrangement, that’s all.”
“I know that.” Rachel’s tone turned lofty. “I mean, he’s years older than you, Miriam. But I admit, it would seriously creep me out if you guys started dating.”
“No chance of that,” Miriam answered firmly. “Especially with me the way I am.” She rested her hand on her bump for emphasis.
“Right.” Rachel nodded again, still absorbing it all. “Right. So, when are you moving? I’m not leaving here till the end of the month…”
“I don’t think I’ll move till around then, either, unless you want me to…?”
“No!” Rachel looked horrified. “Of course not, Miriam. I feel terrible already, as if I’m kicking you out or something.” She stared down at her almost-untouched pasta. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have bought this new house. It was a bit of an impetuous decision…” Which Rachel was prone to making.
“Rachel, it’s fine. Honestly. This works out best for me. I need to find a living situation that is sustainable long-term.”
Rachel glanced up at her, eyes widening. “Does that mean you’re thinking about keeping the baby, Miriam?”
“I still don’t know.” Miriam sighed. “I’m ringing an adoption agency in Carlisle tomorrow, to make an initial appointment.” Rachel nodded and bit her lip, clearly trying not to say something she’d regret. “I know you’d rather I kept the baby, Rachel—”
“It’s your decision, of course—”
“It’s just an initial meeting, anyway, to learn more, because obviously I need more information.” Miriam tried to smile although her insides felt queasy at the thought of it. Could she really contemplate giving up her baby? Could she contemplate the alternative? “We’ll see what they say,” she said finally, a bit brusquely, and Rachel nodded.
“It’s always good to have the information, even if you don’t use it,” she said, which was as diplomatic as she could probably be, in these circumstances.
The next morning Miriam let herself into the vicarage, breathing in the comforting scents of a wood fire and coffee as she looked around for Simon. She still hadn’t seen him since their argument, and she was determined to make amends. Time to start fixing things in her life, as best she could. If she could.
She found Simon in the kitchen, bending over Charlie who was in his usual spot in front of the Aga.
“Is he okay?” Miriam asked, her voice coming out high-pitched in alarm. She remembered the medication Dan had dropped by to deliver, and her heart tumbled over. She didn’t think she could stand it if anything happened to her beloved dog.
“Yes, he’s fine. Slowing down, as we all are.” Simon straightened with a smile, looking as relaxed and affable as he ever did, save for a slight crease between his eyes. “I was just giving him his medicine.”
“Poor old Charlie.” Miriam crouched down to stroke his soft head and silky ears, and also to stall for time. She needed to work up the courage to sa
y what she knew needed to be said.
“Look, Simon,” she said as she straightened, “I’m sorry about the other day. I shouldn’t have become so stubborn about the coffee morning. I know you’re just trying to help and I was far too prickly.”
“And I was doing a rather rotten job of it, I think,” Simon returned wryly. “I’m the one who needs to apologise, Miriam. I came across as pushy and that’s the last thing I meant to be. I want to be clear that there’s no pressure from me to come to a coffee morning, or church, or anything. In your time.”
She folded her arms, one eyebrow arched as she tried for a light tone. “So you think it will happen eventually, do you?”
“I hope so,” Simon said seriously. “I pray so.”
Miriam looked away, uncomfortable with talk of praying about something, about her. Of course, she’d grown up with it—her mother and father had a thing about praying, naturally. They prayed before meals, and in the mornings, and when Miriam had been sick or had an exam or just been feeling out of sorts. Basically, they’d prayed about everything, without much fanfare or fuss, and when she’d been younger she’d been happy enough to have it done; she’d offered a few of her own prayers, silent or spoken.
But then sometime in her teenaged years, she’d started to change, submitting to her father’s benedictions or petitions with an eye roll, mental or actual, that her father had kindly ignored. But now…she couldn’t remember the last time she’d prayed. It felt like a foreign language she’d once had a smattering of but had since forgotten.
“Sorry,” Simon said after a moment, not sounding all that apologetic. “But it’s the truth. It’s who I am. It’s what I do.”
“Fair enough.” Miriam supposed she shouldn’t object to someone, particularly a vicar, interceding on her behalf, although she wondered what God thought about all this, and then decided she didn’t want to know.
“Anyway,” she said in the tone of someone intending to move on with the conversation, “I just wanted to clear the air. Make sure we’re good.”
