Page 12 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
“What!” She stared at him, surprised and more than a little hurt. “Matthew, I am. I spent the whole afternoon with her, after all.”
He sighed as he picked up the wrench. “That’s the kind of thing I mean,” he told her as he began to work again at the sink.
Ellie stared at his back, wondering how and when this distance had come between them. She didn’t think Matthew would have given such a response before they’d moved to Wales, or at least before they’d started thinking of moving; she was honest enough to admit that from the first time they’d started talking about it, things had sometimes—and only sometimes—become a little tense. But that wasn’t entirely her fault, was it?
They’d used to laugh at things, but she knew that being made redundant had changed Matthew, on a fundamental level, or at least knocked him back. He’d tried to be upbeat about it all, seen it as a second chance of sorts, but when he kept sending his resumés out and not getting interviews, his determined cheerfulness had started to flag—and that had been hard on both of them.
She opened her mouth now to make some defensive retort she knew would come across as childish, and then closed it again. “Do you think you might want to spend some time with your children?” she asked instead, which, unfortunately, she realized also sounded childish and petulant, but she meant it. He’d been AWOL all day. His children needed him. She did too, but she’d settle for him hanging out with their kids for an hour or so, and giving her a bit of a break.
“Of course I want to spend some time with my children, Ellie,” Matthew answered, a definite edge to his voice. “What kind of question is that?”
“What kind of answer is that?” Ellie fired back, amazed they were actually arguing. They never argued; Matthew was too laidback, Ellie too cheerful. When they’d bickered in the past, it had usually ended up with both of them laughing at the sheer silliness of it.
Not now. Not for a while, Ellie knew. Not since Matthew had been made redundant and they’d started talking about Wales and everything had become laden, fraught, because they’d realized, even if they’d never said as much out loud, that for the first time in their married lives, they might have wanted different things.
Matthew put down his wrench again. Ellie waited, tensed, poised to fire back once more, because she didn’t think she was being that unreasonable. They’d been at Bluebell Inn for twenty-four hours and Matthew had been doing his own thing pretty much the whole time. What about start how you mean to go on and all that?
“Ellie…” Matthew began, staring down at the floor. It sounded like a warning. Then he shook his head, heaved himself up, and, to Ellie’s surprise, considering she’d thought they were on the cusp of a serious argument, he came over and put his arms around her. She stiffened in his embrace for a few seconds before she let herself relax into it. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve been a bit stressed about getting started on all this. Mum can’t afford to keep the B&B closed for more than a few months, and I want to show her I can do it.”
“She can’t?” That was news to Ellie, although she supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t as if Gwen talked to her about finances—or anything else personal, for that matter.
“She told me as much last night, and so I felt like I needed to get started ASAP. And,” he added with a rueful little sigh, “I just wanted to do something. To feel productive. I’ve been sitting on my hands for six months, and…” He blew out a breath as his arms tightened around her. “It was good, to feel like I was accomplishing something, even if it was just ripping out a sink.”
“I understand that.” Ellie pressed her cheek against his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry for being so prickly,” she told him in a low voice. “I’m jet-lagged and emotional; I’m sure things will settle down soon. Once the kids start school…”
And I somehow learn how to get along with Gwen, she added silently.
“Yes, they will,” Matthew agreed, with more certainty than Ellie felt, no matter what she’d just said. “How about I kick a soccer ball around with Ben and Josh for a bit?”
“You mean a football?” Ellie returned wryly. “Yes, that would be great.”
Matthew gave her one last squeeze before heading downstairs.
Ellie stood there for a moment, looking around the wreck of the room. She was glad, truly, that Matthew had found some purpose and satisfaction in starting the renovations, but she couldn’t keep an unease from creeping through her all the same, because she couldn’t yet see how any of this—all of this—was going to work. Would Matthew be able to finish the renovations, considering the grand scale he was envisioning? Would they live in the attics the whole time, and what about when the B&B reopened, with paying guests? Where were they meant to live then?
It had only been one day, Ellie reminded herself. Twenty-four hours. They had plenty of time to figure things out, see how it all went, find their stride. She just had to take each day as it came, and not worry too much about the next.
“Mo-meee!” Ava’s wail echoed through the house, making Ellie glad that Gwen hadn’t yet returned from her appointment, whatever that had entailed. She hadn’t been very forthcoming about it, and Ellie hadn’t felt she could ask, as there had been something repressive about Gwen’s attitude, but then there often was. “Ben won’t let me play soccer with him!” Ava shouted, sounding very put out.
Squaring her shoulders and straightening her spine, Ellie headed back downstairs. “All right, you two,” she called, thinking that they might have moved to the other side of the world, but some things never changed.
CHAPTER 7
GWEN
“Gwen Davies?”
Gwen looked up from the magazine she’d been staring at rather blankly for the last twenty minutes to catch the nurse’s kindly smile.
“That’s me.” She rose, smoothing her skirt, trying to still the nerves that fluttered in her tummy and up her throat. Her GP had assured this was little more than routine… sort of. Let’s check, just in case, Gwen, especially at your age…
That was routine, wasn’t it?
“Come this way, please,” the nurse said, and Gwen followed her down a corridor to a consulting room.
The procedure, she’d been told, was not too invasive and would only take twenty minutes. She’d be back home within the hour; Ellie and Sarah might not have even finished their walking tour of Llandrigg. Maybe she’d even have time to bake something for all of them before they returned—nothing with raisins, obviously.
Gwen envisioned herself baking chocolate chip cookies, back in her comforting kitchen with the smell of sweetness in the air, Toby lying at her feet at his usual place in front of the Aga, plumed tail beating the floor. The thought steadied her as she perched on the edge of the examining table, the paper crinkling loudly beneath her. In an hour, she would have put this all behind her. Hopefully.