by Kate Hewitt
When a little girl slipped her hand into hers and began to take her around the garden, chattering all the way, Esther’s heart melted a little bit. She’d avoided children for the most part, mainly because she didn’t think she was any good with them, but this little girl, all of four years old, seemed to have taken a shine to her. As she let herself be led around the garden, she caught Will’s eye and he gave her a smile. Her heart caught in her chest; what if he was getting his hopes up? What if she was? Could she cope with that?
After Rachel, Anna, and Dan had all doled the chocolate eggs out, parishioners began to trickle away to their own Sunday dinners and the Holleys trooped back towards the vicarage where Ruth was already busy getting food on the table.
“Six days off,” Roger said with relish as he hung his cassock up on the hook on the back of the study door. “My favourite time of year.”
“And your last Easter in Thornthwaite,” Anna remarked with a sad little smile. “Won’t you miss it, Dad?”
“Of course I’ll miss it,” Roger answered instantly. “We both will, won’t we, darling?” He pulled Ruth into a hug despite her squealing protest that something was in danger of burning on the stove. “But new chapters, eh?” Roger smiled at them all, although there was a bittersweet tilt to his lips. “New chapters for everyone.”
“Yes,” Esther said, the firm tone of her voice surprising her. “New chapters.”
The rest of the day passed in a haze of good food and wine, all of them around the table, tucking into a magnificent roast dinner with all the trimmings before managing hefty slabs of homemade simmel cake, followed by coffee and petit fours.
“I can’t eat another bite.” Simon groaned as he sat back in his chair, one arm around Anna, who looked similarly well fed. Watching them together, Esther wondered if an engagement announcement was in the offing. They seemed so happy and natural together, but perhaps they were waiting for Rachel and Dan’s big day first.
A glance at her sister and her fiancé gave Esther a twinge of unease… although Rachel had been her usual bubbly self for most of the afternoon, when caught in an unsuspecting moment, she looked tense, even unhappy. What could be the problem with her and Dan? Dan was lovely, warm and kind and funny, and good-looking as well, in a gentrified kind of way. He was perfect for Rachel… wasn’t he? But then, Esther mused, what did she know about what went on behind closed doors?
“Now that you’re all here and watered and fed,” Roger announced once the last of the petit fours had been scoffed, “we’ve got a bit of work to do.”
“Work?” Anna sat up. “We’ll clear up, Mum. You shouldn’t be lifting a finger after all that.”
“Nonsense,” Ruth protested. “But that’s not the work your father means, anyway.”
“What, then?” Rachel looked intrigued.
“We’ve got some sorting to do,” Roger said easily. “Your mother and I have realized what we can take to China, and what we can’t. And we want to make sure all of you get a share in what’s staying, so we thought it best to have a bit of a clear-out while everyone was here.”
“What?” Rachel sounded panicked. “Already? But—”
“We are leaving in less than three months,” Roger reminded her gently. “The tickets are booked.”
Esther’s stomach twisted unpleasantly, but she stayed silent because she was starting to realize it didn’t help either of her parents to express dismay or concern over their move. This was their choice, both of their choice. If they could accept it, then so could she.
“Right, then,” she said, rubbing her hands together. “What’s staying and what’s got to go?”
The next few hours were painfully bittersweet as Ruth brought out all the fine china she’d amassed over the years—platters and plates, serving and chafing dishes, and three sets of sterling silver that had been passed down from various relatives.
“Mum, this is all your best stuff,” Anna protested. “Don’t you want to keep some of it?”
“There’s no point, really,” Ruth replied with a small smile. Esther could see this was hard for her, but she was determinedly cheerful. “We can’t ship it.”
“But what about when you come back from China?” Rachel burst out. “You’re not going to stay there forever, surely?”
“We don’t know how long we’ll stay there,” Roger intervened. “However long God wills. But in any case, if and when we move back to England, we won’t be living in a pile like this.” He glanced around the high-ceilinged dining room with poignant affection. “You all know as well as I do that most of the old vicarages have been sold off. We were blessed to hang onto this place, and blessed too that Simon will be able to live in it. Whatever home we have after Jinan, it won’t be like this.”
His words seemed to fall in the stillness of the room like stones thrown into a pool. It gave Esther a jolt to realize just how much was changing—not just her parents’ move to China, which, like Rachel, she’d assumed was somewhat temporary, but life afterwards. The days in this big, old vicarage, when it had been a bastion of home life and security, were truly over, or almost.
In the end, they divided the china and silver between them, putting some aside for Miriam, who had joined in on Skype and seemed uncharacteristically solemn, watching the proceedings from her usual position on the beach, without any of her usual good-natured jeers and jokes. This felt momentous somehow, far more important and final than throwing out some old tat from the back of the pantry.
Esther came away with a serving platter, a set of sterling silver for four, and the mismatched china teacups and saucers Ruth had inherited from her grandmother. She put it upstairs in her bedroom, unable to keep from noting the incongruity—suitcases and sterling silver, a life in transition. It could almost be art.
Smiling a little, she went back downstairs to help her mother clean up. She found her father by the doorway, waving off Dan and Rachel; Will had already gone, needing to be back on the farm, but, with a sparkle in his eye, he’d promised to arrange another date soon.
The evening was bathed in the shimmering, Technicolor light of early evening, better than any Instagram filter. The grass was touched with gold, the sky so deep a blue it hurt, and yet in a few moments it would start fading to lavender, and the world would begin to grow dark.
“All right there, Bessie?” Roger asked, using a nickname from her childhood that Esther had half-forgotten.
She leaned against his shoulder in a way she hadn’t in years, decades, and smiled as the sun began to sink. “Yes,” she said, as his arm came around her. “All right.”
Chapter Eighteen
“What is that?”
Esther stared at Will, bemused. It was a sunny Saturday morning, nearly a week after Easter, and he was dressed in faded jeans and a fleece, holding what looked like an old-fashioned Dorothy of Wizard of Oz-style picnic basket.
Will confirmed her suspicion with a smile. “I thought we’d go on a picnic.”
“A picnic?”
“It’s a nice day.”
“Don’t you have work?”
“I can take a few hours off.” Will shrugged. “Why not?”
Why not? Because they didn’t do picnics. They never had. After those first few dates they’d settled into a sensible routine, watching boxed sets and talking about farming and work. A picnic somewhere up in the fells was far too romantic for the likes of them.
And yet…
“I didn’t even think we owned a picnic basket.”
“We don’t.” Will glanced down at the cute basket with the red gingham lining, like something Little Red Riding Hood would have. “I borrowed it.”
“You’ve thought this through, haven’t you?”
“I have.”
Happiness zinged through her, like a firework. She couldn’t remember feeling so light. It had been a good week, working on the garden, helping her parents sort out the house. The uncertainty she’d been feeling was being replaced, slowly but surely, by something solid
and good. As cheesy as it sounded, she wasn’t just finding her way back to Will, she was finding her way back to herself.
“All right,” she said. “Will I need hiking boots?”
“Of course.”
A few minutes later she was ready to go, and after calling to Ruth that Esther would be out for most of the day, Esther climbed into the Rover and Will got into the driver’s seat, the picnic basket between them.
Sunshine spilled through the windows as they drove out of Thornthwaite and then turned towards Keswick.
“How’s the garden coming along, then?” Will asked, and Esther told him about the meeting they’d held at the vicarage a few nights ago, with a committee formed, and a plan for the landscaping in place.
“There will be four small veg plots, as well as a communal space, and two cold frames, and the greenhouse, of course. Sophie’s working on a fundraiser in the summer, a strawberries and Prosecco evening in the vicarage garden, with fancy dress, just for fun.”
“Sounds good,” Will said. “Can I come as a farmer?”
Esther laughed, because Will had never been one for fancy dress. Neither had she, for that matter, but perhaps this time she’d give it a go. “We could go together,” she offered. “The farmer and his wife.”
Will shot her a quick, searching look, and Esther met it. Yes, she was really saying that. Really feeling it.
“Sounds like the perfect costume to me.”
“Not too much of a costume, though,” Esther said, her words still loaded with meaning, obvious and important to both of them.
Will nodded slowly. “No, not too much.”
He turned off the A66 towards a little B-road that curved around the sparkling expanse of Derwentwater, its placid surface shimmering in the sunlight, the dramatic, dark-green sweep of the fells a stunning backdrop to the perfect scene.
“I thought we could stop near Otterbield Bay,” he said as the Rover bumped along. “It’s a nice spot.”
Soon enough they were pulling into the little inlet, which was surprisingly empty on this gorgeous day, the stretch of grass to the rocky shore pristine and sparkling with dew.
Will laid out a blanket and they both sat down, gazing at the water. Esther felt perfectly content, a settled feeling inside her it seemed almost nothing could shake. Why had it taken so long, so much striving and grieving and fear, to get here? She decided the answer didn’t matter; the point was, she was here, and so was Will.
Will started unpacking their picnic, and Esther exclaimed over the array of delicacies, “Stuffed olives… Brie cheese… strawberries… champagne?” She goggled as he popped the cork on the demi-bottle.
“It looks as if you’ve cleared out Booth’s,” she remarked, referencing the upscale supermarket in Keswick.
“Did my best.” He handed her a plastic flute of fizz and held his own aloft. “To us, Esther.”
“To us,” she agreed, and they clinked plastic before taking sips. It felt strange and yet also strangely right to be so romantic, sipping champagne and feeding each other bits of food on a picnic blanket, the kind of thing they’d never, ever done. Esther felt self-conscious but she also felt happy, and it wasn’t that bad of a combination.
Then, when lunch was over, Will nodded towards the water. “Dare you.”
“Dare me? To do what?”
“Swim.”
Esther let out a disbelieving laugh. Wild swimming in the lakes was a popular pastime, but as far as she was concerned it was a crazy one. The water was ice-cold and deep, the bottom rocky and unforgiving. Most people only swam wearing wetsuits.
“Are you serious?” she said. “It’s only April.”
“End of April.”
“Still. I’ll turn blue in about five seconds.”
Will leaned back, his arms braced behind him. “Chicken?” he jeered softly, his eyes sparkling with humour.
“I’m not chicken, I’m sensible,” Esther retorted, and when she saw Will’s nod of satisfaction she realized she’d fallen neatly, and oh so predictably, into his trap. She was sensible. Sensible, box-ticking Esther, always with a to-do list and her stupid scorecard. Was Will daring her to be different for once? To be foolish and reckless and even stupid?
“Fine,” she said, with an upward tilt of her chin. “Since you want me to be stupid.”
“Not stupid,” Will corrected with a laugh. “Daring.”
She rose from the blanket, and as she walked towards the water, the sun which had felt so benevolent and warm a few moments ago suddenly didn’t seem so much anymore. She unlaced her hiking boots and kicked them off, then slipped off her sensible wool socks as well.
“You’re not going to go in your clothes, are you?” Will called. “Because that really would be stupid.”
“Are you actually asking me to skinny dip?” Esther practically yelped.
Will shrugged, still stretched out on the blanket. “I don’t see anyone around.”
Esther glanced around, seeing no one but a few walkers in the distance, no more than specks along the horizon. Still, someone could come around the bend at any moment, and she didn’t fancy being caught starkers.
“Is this some weird fantasy of yours?” she called back. “Seeing a naked woman freeze to death in the water?”
“Seeing my naked wife,” Will returned. “Yes, always. But not freeze to death. Maybe get a bit chilly.”
She laughed, shaking her head. Already her hands were at the bottom of her fleece, tugging it upwards. Why was she doing this exactly? She tossed it off, and then shimmied out of her jeans. She could feel Will’s eyes on her, even though he didn’t say a word.
This was ridiculous, and crazy, and somehow she was loving it. She felt so alive, every sense and sinew singing. Her shirt came next, so she was in her bra and pants. She turned around to face him, her hands on her hips.
“Then I dare you to come in with me,” she said, and Will scrambled up from the blanket with alacrity, his hands already on the zip of his fleece.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
*
Will didn’t know what had possessed him to dare Esther to go into the water; everyone knew how freezing the lakes were, especially this time of year. And yet the bay was shallow, the bottom not too rocky, and they could be in and out in a matter of seconds. There was no real danger, and yet it felt like a risk. A thrill. Perhaps even a baptism.
He pulled his top off and then shucked off his jeans, conscious that walkers could appear on the scene at any moment, and there he and Esther would be, in their underwear. It was so unlike them, and that was why he’d suggested it. It was silly, even stupid, but it was fun and exciting too, and it was new territory for them both.
“So, who is going in first?” Esther asked when they were both standing on the pebbly shore of the lake, a few inches from the water.
“Together?”
“All right.”
Will inched a foot in and then couldn’t keep from jerking back and shuddering. “Bugger, that’s cold.”
Esther laughed and splashed him with her foot, the icy droplets spraying his torso. “Now who’s the chicken?”
“Not me, woman.” Taking a deep breath, Will waded into the ice-cold water. He grabbed Esther’s hand and pulled her along with him, and with a screech she followed, both of them splashing into the freezing water until they were chest-deep.
“This is so crazy,” Esther said, shivering, and Will pulled her into his arms, their bodies juddering with cold together.
“Crazy but good,” he said, and kissed her. She kissed him, the passion they’d felt for each other unleashed once more, and something more than that. Something deeper.
“We’re still going to freeze,” Esther murmured against his lips, and with a laugh Will swept her into his arms and carried her out of the water. They fell on the blanket together, and Will wrapped them up in it, their wet limbs tangled, toes touching.
Will looked down into her pale, wet face, her lips blue, her eyes spark
ling, and his heart expanded with feeling. “I love you,” he said, and realized how rarely he said it. He’d never thought he’d needed to, but more than that, he hadn’t always wanted to. Not because he didn’t love her, but because he hated being vulnerable. And yet here he was, here they both were, and he wanted to say it.
Esther’s eyes filled with tears as she gazed up at him. “I love you too, Will,” she whispered. “So much.”
He kissed her again and her arms came around him, their cold bodies pressed together and warming quickly. Then, in the distance, Will heard an excitable voice.
“Oh, I say, are there otters here?”
*
Esther combed her wet, tangled hair with her fingers, a warmth inside her that belied the freezing dip they’d just taken. After a pair of hikers had stumbled upon them, they’d jumped into their clothes and hightailed it back to the Rover, laughing the whole while. Esther had felt too happy to be embarrassed, and even now, nearly back in Thornthwaite, she felt a bubble of laughter rising in her throat at the memory of the two pensioners suited up in walking gear, holding knobbly walking sticks and nature guides, looks of astonished horror on their faces when they’d come across her and Will. A pair of otters, indeed.
A snort of laughter escaped her and Will grinned. “They won’t forget that in a hurry,” he said, and she smiled to realize how he’d been thinking the same thing she had.
They pulled into the drive and Will parked in front of the vicarage. He turned the car off and rested his hands on the steering wheel, his expression turning serious. Esther’s heart lurched, and then stilled.
“Do you think… do you think you’d consider moving back home?” he asked quietly. There was a raw note of vulnerability in his voice that made her ache.
Esther was silent for a moment, sifting through everything in her mind. Her pregnancy, her relief, her sadness, her uncertainty, the spare bedroom with her suitcases and serving platters. Those crocuses pushing their way up through the tilled earth, small and yet determined. Life on hold, yet ready to begin.
