by Sarah Morgan
“If it wasn’t serious, he wouldn’t be bringing her. Jack isn’t the type to jump from one relationship to another.”
“And it upsets you?” Todd paused, even though he was now almost certainly going to be late.
What should she say? She’d been on the verge of telling him so many times, but she’d always stopped herself. She’d never been a gossip, something that had frustrated and amused Becca in equal amounts.
For once in your life can’t you enjoy a good bitch about someone? Nice people are boring.
Clare had laughed and tried not to be offended but of course she had been because all her life she’d tried to keep up with Becca. At school she’d been so shy she’d found it difficult to make friends. She’d been teased and excluded by the other children until the day Becca had arrived. Becca, the class rebel had, for some reason Clare never entirely understood, decided to give her best friend status. From that point on Clare had no problems with the other children. She and Becca were as close as sisters, and if some of the things Becca did made her uncomfortable, she accepted it as the price to be paid for friendship. No one was perfect, were they? No one did the right thing all the time.
Todd was watching her. “Is there something else going on, Clare?”
There had been so many times when she’d considered telling him the truth, but decided it wasn’t fair to put him in the same position she was in, particularly as deep down she knew he hadn’t liked Becca that much. What would he say if he knew the truth? What if he judged Becca or, worse, what if he judged Clare?
“It’s been hard, that’s all.”
“It’s coming up to the anniversary. It’s a tough time for you.”
It was, but it was also confusing. Part of her longed to talk about it, but how could she? It would mean admitting how angry she felt, and how confused. And it would feel disloyal. Clare was probably the only person in the world who knew everything about Becca. She knew all about Becca’s childhood. She understood how Becca had become Becca.
But Becca was gone, and it wasn’t going to help anyone if Clare kept dwelling on the past.
“It’s tougher on Jack.”
“Which is probably why he needs to get away. I know it must feel strange thinking of him with someone else, but life’s tough enough without making it tougher.”
“But it’s three weeks, Todd. Not dinner, or an afternoon on the lake. Three whole weeks with a woman I’ve never met and don’t know.” And wasn’t sure she wanted to meet.
“Look at it this way—after three weeks together, you’ll know her.”
How could you love someone and still want to kill them? “I’m not like you. I don’t make friends in an instant.”
“You’re assuming you’re not going to like her.”
“It isn’t that.” Although it was partly that, of course. Could she really like Becca’s replacement?
“Jack and I will be around, and you’ll have the kids and the dog. In other words plenty of chaos. You’ll make her welcome.”
“Yes.” When she’d worked in a busy London office she’d constantly had to talk to people she didn’t know. But somehow it had felt different at work. Part of a persona she’d created. Clare, the magazine editor. “I just hope the girls are all right about it. It must be a big change for them.” She felt a twinge of guilt that she hadn’t been better at staying in touch. She remembered Izzy at the funeral, holding so tightly to Molly’s hand it had been impossible to figure out who was supporting whom.
“Jack adores the girls. There is no way he’d get involved with someone they didn’t like.”
Clare imagined Flora emerging from the car with sinuous grace. She’d probably give a little wry smile when she saw the house and contemplated the prospect of three weeks of rural living. Another Becca. Men had a type, didn’t they?
But she and Flora didn’t share a history. What would they talk about? Clare had trained herself to make polite conversation for a short time, but three weeks?
“Do I put them in the same room? Separate rooms?”
Todd shrugged. “Ask him what he wants.”
To him it was that simple, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to do that. Her fingers would never be able to type out that email.
“I’ll make up two rooms. If they want to share, that’s their choice.”
“Good decision. And I know you’ll be kind to Flora. You are the perfect hostess. And Jack has good taste. Jack chose Becca, right?”
No, Clare thought. Becca had chosen Jack.
I’ve met a man.
“What time will you be home?”
“Not sure. Can I call you? I’ll be driving past the farm shop. Want me to pick up some steaks?”
“Aiden is vegetarian.”
“Still? I’d hoped he’d be over it by now.”
“It’s not a whim, Todd, it’s a belief. A lifestyle choice.”
“Right. Well I’ll buy steaks for us and a large carrot for our son.”
She laughed. “I’m making vegetarian lasagna. For all of us.”
Todd shuddered. “What else are you doing today, apart from wrestling vegetables?”
“I have a feature to finish, and then I’m going over to the boathouse. The last guests left yesterday so I’m going to move some of our things back in and get it ready for the summer.” They had an agreement that they never rented it during July and August, that way the family could enjoy their home without sharing it with strangers.
Clare loved the rental income, but she also loved the two months of the year she could take her coffee down to the lakeside in her yoga pants, without worrying that she could be seen by people she didn’t know. She dreamed of the day Todd’s business took off and they were able to afford to keep it to themselves and not rent it out to strangers.
“Do you need help with that?”
“No, I’ll enjoy it. I’m looking forward to having a day to myself.” She felt like a child looking forward to Christmas. It was going to be a day entirely for her.
To her surprise Todd put his keys and his coat down and walked back to her.
“You’re still okay with this life we chose?”
“Why would you even ask me that?”
“It’s all the talk of Becca probably. She blamed me for making you throw in your glittering career and move out of London to follow my dream.”
“We moved when my father died. We agreed it was the right thing. And anyway, this wasn’t just your dream, it was my dream, too. We were both tired of working hard for other people. And my career wasn’t that glittering.”
“Free shoes and handbags?”
Clare laughed. “Crowded commutes and early morning meetings? And I don’t have much of a need for expensive shoes and purses here. Wellington boots are the order of the day. And this wasn’t an impulsive decision.” They’d talked about it for years before they’d taken the plunge. Every Saturday over a bottle of wine, they’d plotted ways to move back here. “I was born here, remember? You’d never set foot in the Lakes until you met me.”
“A lapse in judgment I will always regret.” He brushed a toast crumb from her cheek with the tip of his finger. “So many missed years.”
She knew that Todd loved the Lakes as much as she did. “Admit it, you married me for my family house.”
“I did. Your mother’s amazing chocolate fudge cake might also have played a part. I’d move across continents for that.” He trailed his finger along her jaw. “You don’t miss London and those days when you used to sit in your glass office with an assistant bringing you coffee?”
“I made my own coffee. And no, I don’t miss it.” She enjoyed making coffee here in her own kitchen. When she was leaning against the range cooker, warming herself in winter, she thought the kitchen might be her favorite room in the house. But then she curled up in the living room with its views across the garden to the lake and decided that was her favorite room. Or maybe her bedroom with its sloping roof and tiny balcony. “I love the life we’ve built
here. It was a shared decision, Todd.” Everything they did was shared. They were a partnership, and she loved that. Until last year, she’d been able to say she had no secrets from Todd. Thanks to Becca that was no longer true. It made her feel tainted.
She could almost hear Becca laughing.
You tell your husband everything? Even your secrets? Oh, Clare! You should live a life full of delicious secrets and scandal.
Clare couldn’t think of anything more exhausting.
“Stop frowning.” Todd rubbed his finger across her forehead. “If it’s going to stress you having Jack and the kids, I’ll call him and make an excuse.”
“No! I don’t want you to do that.” But the fact that he would have done it made her feel warm and loved. “I want to see them, I really do.”
“Then what?” He stroked her hair away from her face. “I know you and Becca had been friends forever, but I often thought you were growing apart. I hadn’t realized that losing her would affect you this way.”
“What makes you think we were growing apart?” And her own mother had said much the same thing.
“You two were very different people. How your friendship endured for so long I don’t know. You seemed to have so little in common, but of course you and Becca were bonded virtually from birth so perhaps longevity was the glue.” Todd kissed her and walked to the door, retrieving his coat and keys on the way. “Jack is moving on, and maybe when you see that you’ll be able to move on, too.”
Would it be that simple? She truly hoped so.
After he left, she grabbed her jacket and walked along the narrow path that led from the lodge to the boathouse. This section of the lake was densely wooded, the only sounds the soft lap of the lake against the shore, a chorus of birdsong and the insistent drumming of a woodpecker. Her jeans protected her from the sharp sting of nettles and the bite of insects and the sounds washed over her along with a sense of peace. Never, not once, had she considered it a mistake to move back here. She was in her element. She was aware that others might see it as a small life, but she saw it as a rich life. More importantly, it was the life she wanted.
They’d had an unusually dry spell, so all she had on her feet was running shoes. She breathed in air sweetened by the scents of summer and her heart lifted a little as the boathouse came into view. Splintered planks and spiders’ webs had been replaced by Lakeland stone, cedar and acres of glass. Todd had worked on the conversion, using locally sourced materials and extending it to provide luxury accommodation while still retaining the charm of the original building. The project had attracted attention from first the local press and then a Sunday magazine, providing a publicity boost that Todd had needed.
When he’d left the large architecture practice he’d worked for in London to set up on his own in the Lake District, Clare had been nervous but apart from the nagging worry about income, it had been a positive move. Aiden settled easily into his new school, and Clare discovered that she loved the slower pace of life.
This was her favorite time of day, early in the morning. The air was fresh and clean, the only sounds the call of the birds and the occasional splash of water against the shore.
Boulders framed the edge of this section of the lake, some shiny and smooth, others rough and ragged, the surface roughened by wind and water. Clare had stood on those slabs as a child, shivering with excitement and fear as her father had urged her to jump into the clear water. She’d seen tiny fish darting and a tangle of weed and then she’d plunged and gasped as the ice-cold lake water closed over her skinny body.
The place held nothing but good memories and they seeped under her skin, diluting some of those nastier feelings.
Stepping inside the place gave her a holiday feeling. It was furnished for the top end of the rental market, a place where people could either continue their life of luxury or find it for a few weeks.
It was nothing like Todd and Clare’s own house. Real life didn’t happen in this place. There were no muddy hiking boots strewn in the entryway ready to trip up the unwary, no gouges on the table, weatherproof jackets, or school bags. No reminder of jobs to be done. Everything, from the art on the walls to the hand-carved wooden sculpture, had been carefully curated.
She opened the glass doors that led to the balcony, noticing that the previous occupants had moved the furniture. They’d been honeymooners and had barely emerged from the boathouse all week, captivated by the romance of the place.
Would Jack be expecting a romantic escape with his new friend? What would she think of the peace and calm of the lake?
Where would Clare take her if she needed a city fix?
The home of Beatrix Potter, or Wordsworth, wouldn’t be enough.
She walked into the kitchen, telling herself that keeping his girlfriend entertained was Jack’s responsibility not hers. And presumably he’d be thoughtful about it. He’d have the children with him and Jack was above everything else an excellent father.
She made herself a coffee and took it onto the balcony. As teenagers, she and Becca had brought their sleeping bags here and “camped” in the boathouse. At the time it had been exciting, but Clare had reached the age where she preferred luxury.
The irony was that she wouldn’t have been able to afford what they charged to stay in this place. It always shocked her what people were prepared to pay, but as Todd always said their “normal” was another person’s dream. And it was dreamy.
The reed beds provided a refuge for birds during the winter, and protection during the nesting season. It was usual to see cormorants and ospreys, as well as kingfishers. She watched as dragonflies danced together across the surface of the water, their iridescent bodies catching the light.
Maybe she’d put a bottle of wine in the fridge and persuade Todd to come over and watch the sunset. Or maybe they should spend a night here. They could sleep with the doors open, and breakfast on the balcony before the world was awake. It was her favorite time on the lake, when the surface had a glassy stillness.
It would be romantic.
She could almost hear Becca laughing. Romantic to Becca was Paris, or Rome, not a boathouse on a lake. She’d never understood Clare’s contentment with the small things in life. She’d always wanted the big things.
Clare closed her eyes. She had to stop this. Becca was gone. That part of her life was gone. She should draw a line under it. Yes, there were times when she missed her friend, but the truth was it was their old friendship she missed, not the relationship they’d had in recent years. Todd was right that they’d grown further apart. It had been a shock and disappointment to discover that friendship could change over time. She still remembered Becca grabbing her hand on their first day at school and saying Nothing is ever going to come between us.
But it had. Time had come between them. Time, and all those small life choices that had gradually taken them in different directions.
This was a new chapter. Todd was right. If Jack could move on, then so could she. She’d welcome Jack’s girlfriend into their home and try hard not to think about Becca.
11
Izzy
Izzy was silent as the car trundled along the leafy, winding driveway to Lake Lodge.
Molly had insisted on sitting next to Flora for the journey from the airport, and now she was asleep on her shoulder in the back of the car.
Pain ripped through Izzy. For a year, she’d been both sister and mother to Molly. She’d hugged her, comforted her, held her own feelings inside so that she could support her sister. And then Flora had appeared in their lives.
Why had she agreed to join them? She was either totally insensitive, or totally in love with Izzy’s dad. Neither of those options were good.
Izzy felt betrayed, not only by her father but also by her little sister. She’d held Molly together, and now it seemed she was no longer needed. Like their father she had taken forward steps, moved on, so where did that leave Izzy?
She hadn’t moved on. She was still stuck in the same conf
used, terrified place only now she wasn’t sure what her purpose was. If she wasn’t needed, what would happen?
Her dad threw her a questioning smile. “You’re quiet. Everything okay?”
“Everything is fine.” She’d become so adept at lying, it was a little unnerving. The slow buildup of emotion inside her was equally unnerving. She was terrified that at some point she was going to lose it. It had been a hideous, horrible journey.
What was wrong with her? She should be pleased that Molly liked Flora. She’d read enough books and talked to enough friends from blended families to know that stepmothers could be a nightmare. Flora wasn’t a nightmare in that sense. She was kind. Fun, even. She was good with Molly. Izzy should be relieved, shouldn’t she? Instead, she felt frightened. And a little angry. The nightmare for her wasn’t that her father’s new woman was a horrible person, it was that Flora was so likable.
Glancing behind her she saw Molly slide her hand into Flora’s.
“I’m glad you’re here.”
Izzy wasn’t glad. Right at that moment Izzy hated Flora.
They followed the curve of the drive and there, bathed in sunlight, was Lake Lodge. The front door was almost obscured by a profusion of climbing roses, and Izzy felt her heart beat a little faster because it was all so familiar and yet unfamiliar because this time her mother wasn’t here with them.
She gripped her seat, trying to hold it together. Breathe. Breathe.
She saw the door open, and there was Aunt Clare, wearing a floral dress and a beaming smile, her fine blond hair cut short to frame her face. Behind her was Aiden, slouched against the door frame, his dark hair falling over his eyes.
Her heart beat a little harder.
I love you, Izzy.
Did he still feel that way? Probably not. She’d learned that feelings were strange, unpredictable things.
The moment the car stopped, Molly gave a whoop, unclipped her seat belt and raced across the gravel drive.
“Aunt Clare!”
Aunt Clare scooped her up and swung her round before giving her a massive hug and kiss.
