Page 53 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane

“I’m afraid to look,” Jess admitted with a nervous laugh, half-covering her eyes, but Sophie strode forward, quickly scanning the names.

A few endless seconds passed while Jess waited, peeking between her fingers.

“We’re on it!” Sophie finally exclaimed jubilantly, and Jess’s jaw nearly dropped in surprise as she took her hand away from her eyes. Despite her newfound hopes, she hadn’t actually been expecting it.

“We… we are?”

“Yes!” Sophie turned to her, her face flushed with excitement, her eyes bright. “We’re going to be performing in the autumn concert to the whole school!”

The whole school… Again, Jess felt that sinking feeling, that flutter of nerves, but resolutely she pushed it away and smiled back at Sophie, determined to enjoy this.

“Yes,” she replied, tilting her chin up a notch. “We are!”

CHAPTER 27

GWEN

Sunlight filtered through the gap in the curtains as Gwen lay in bed and listened to the thumps and thuds that meant her four grandchildren were up and getting ready for school. Normally, she would have been up as well, usually for an hour already, at least, having made coffee and collected the eggs, fed the chickens and unloaded the dishwasher, enjoyed a few moments’ quiet before happy chaos descended on the house.

This morning, however, she felt as if she could barely lift her head from the pillow. Her limbs felt leaden, and her empty stomach churned. It was little more than a week since she’d started chemotherapy, and the effects of it were certainly beginning to be felt.

“Mom… Josh took the last of the Weetos!”

“Mom… where’s my school jumper?”

“Ow, Mom, don’t brush my hair so hard!”

Gwen listened to the familiar chorus of questions and complaints and felt a surge of sympathy for Ellie, who was undoubtedly racing from one near-crisis to the next. Matthew would be helping too, as best as he could with his arm still in a cast, but Gwen knew well enough that when children wanted something done, they tended to ask their mum.

Usually, she tried to help in the mornings, although she’d got the feeling that Ellie was trying to keep the children out of her way, to give her some peace and quiet. Still, she did her best to find hairbrushes or missing shoes, make sure lunch boxes and PE kits were remembered. Often, though, she ended up feeling as in the way as Ellie seemed to fear the children were, not knowing where things were or how they were done.

This morning, she wouldn’t be in the way. Although she’d intended to get up half an hour ago when she’d first woken, she hadn’t stirred. Hadn’t felt able to stir. Why did her head feel so heavy, her stomach so empty? She closed her eyes, telling herself it would just be for a moment.

She woke to Ellie’s soft voice at the door. “Gwen… Gwen?”

Gwen blinked the world into foggy focus. Her stomach still churned, and her head felt as if it were full of cotton wool. “I’m here,” she called, her voice little more than a croak. Goodness, what was wrong with her? She needed to get a grip…

“Sorry to disturb you.” Ellie peeked her head around the doorway, looking uncertain. “I wanted to let you sleep, but your chemo starts in an hour, and I thought you might want some time to get ready.”

“An hour?” Startled, Gwen eased herself into a sitting position, conscious of her mussed hair, her sleepy, and no doubt rather gormless, look. “Is it really that late? I only meant to close my eyes for a few minutes…”

“You needed the rest.” Ellie smiled sympathetically. “Can I get you something? A cup of tea? Some toast?”

Gwen’s stomach revolted at the thought of any food, but she hoped a cup of tea might help shake her out of this stupor. “Thank you, Ellie. A cup of tea would be lovely. I’ll come down to the kitchen as soon as I’ve dressed.”

“All right.” Ellie slipped out of the room, and Gwen forced herself out of bed, even though she struggled not to pull the duvet back up over her head and let herself sink back into sleep.

When she made it downstairs, Ellie had a pot of tea ready, and some buttery toast as well.

“Just in case,” she told her. “I’ll eat it if you don’t.”

“I’ll try some,” Gwen promised. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

She perched on the edge of a chair, feeling about a million years old, as Ellie poured her a cup of tea.

“Are the effects of the chemo kicking in?” she asked quietly, and Gwen grimaced.

“I suppose so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired before.”