Page 56 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
“Yes, I suppose that makes sense.” Sarah brought the teapot to the table and poured them both cups. “I was surprised you had Ellie take you today,” she remarked diffidently as she passed Gwen her cup.
Gwen tried not to sigh. She’d been expecting this, but, in truth, she wasn’t sure how to handle it. “Surprised?”
“It’s only, I’ve been taking you every day.”
“Yes, which is why I thought you could use a break.”
Sarah pursed her lips as she stared down at her tea. “Was that really the reason, Mum?” she asked, her voice vibrating with hurt in a way that made Gwen feel a rush of both love and guilt. She knew how important it was for Sarah to feel as if she were helping, just as she knew she couldn’t keep managing her daughter and doing her best to keep her happy, not when she felt so tired and ill.
“It was part of it, Sarah,” she said as she wrapped her hands around her cup of tea, grateful for its warmth. She always felt so cold after her treatments.
Sarah gave a little nod before she raised her chin. “So what was the other part?” she asked.
Gwen hesitated before answering mostly honestly, “I wanted to spend some time with Ellie.”
“You spend loads of time with Ellie. She lives with you, for heaven’s sake!”
Gwen felt as if they were both heading toward a cliff, and there was nothing she could do about it but hold her breath, close her eyes, and go over.
“Ellie wanted to talk to me about some ideas for the bed and breakfast,” she said after a moment, knowing she was still hedging. “That was part of it, too.”
“What ideas?”
“Just about how to market it, really,” Gwen replied. “Nothing concrete yet.”
Sarah was silent for a moment. She took a sip of tea, and then put down her cup.
“You’ve never asked me about plans for the bed and breakfast,” she said finally, and Gwen did her best not to goggle at her. She hadn’t expected this response from her daughter, not in a million years.
“Ask you…?” she repeated faintly. “But… but, Sarah, in all the years you’ve lived near Llandrigg, you’ve never seemed interested.” She’d always been too busy with her own family and life to care much about the bed and breakfast. At least, that was how it had always seemed to Gwen; whenever Sarah remarked upon it, it was to say how much time and energy it seemed to take, and wouldn’t Gwen prefer to retire and enjoy life a little bit more?
“I wasn’t interested,” Sarah replied with a bitter edge to her voice, “because it was obvious you were keen for Matt to take up the reins, not me.”
“What…” Gwen shook her head slowly, her mind reeling from this unexpected turn in the conversation. “Sarah, if I’d ever thought for a moment that you and Nathan wanted to help with the bed and breakfast…”
“Oh, we couldn’t have done,” Sarah answered impatiently. “I know that. I’m not saying differently, not really. It’s just…” She drew a quick breath. “I feel as if you’re cutting me out. As if you don’t want me to help… with anything.”
Here they were, right at the precipice of everything unsaid between them, the source of all the tension. Why, Gwen wondered, were the relationships with the people you loved the most the hardest?
“I’m very grateful for your help,” Gwen told her after a moment.
“But?” Sarah returned, still sounding bitter. “Because I am definitely sensing a ‘but’.”
“Oh, Sarah.” Gwen let out a gusty sigh, knowing she had to be honest with her daughter, just as she had been with Ellie. “I love you dearly, but the truth is… sometimes it’s been hard work, having you taking me to chemo.”
Hurt made Sarah’s face crumple before her expression hardened. “Hard work?” she repeated tightly. “I’ve been hard work, helping you out? Driving you to the hospital, bringing you meals, tidying up… that’s hard work for you?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it exactly like that.” Gwen wished she could take the words back. Hurting her daughter wouldn’t help anyone, and yet she knew she had to at least try to explain before Sarah was irreparably offended.
“How did you mean it, then? Because I’m not sure what else you could mean. Either you appreciate and want my help, or you don’t, and it very much seems like you don’t.” Sarah’s voice broke on the last word and, seeming annoyed with herself, she brushed at her eyes. “I’m so sorry for being such a nuisance.”
“You’re not a nuisance,” Gwen exclaimed. “That’s not what I mean at all. It’s just… I know this is hard for you, darling. I know how you like to feel in control, in charge. You want to do things. I understand that, truly—”
“You’re saying it as if it’s a bad thing, to be like that,” Sarah replied with a sniff.
“Not bad,” Gwen said quickly. “Not at all. Just… sometimes a bit… tiring. For other people.” She bit her lip, hating that she might be hurting her daughter with her words, and yet knowing she had to be honest. She couldn’t keep handling both Sarah and her chemo treatment. She knew she couldn’t. “Sometimes,” she explained carefully, “I feel as I have to manage you along with everything else.”
“Manage me?” Sarah drew herself up, her eyes flashing. “I promise you, Mum, you don’t need to manage me. I’ve just been trying to help you. The last thing I’d ever want to do is make things harder or worse for you.” Her voice vibrated with both hurt and anger. “But if my help is so difficult for you, and if I’m the real reason you’re so tired, then I suppose I shouldn’t offer it any longer. I’ve got my own troubles, anyway—”