Page 9 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
“That’s a good idea,” she told her daughter-in-law as diplomatically as she felt she could. “I’m sure they would enjoy having a nose round.”
Ellie took a breath before asking carefully, “Would you like to come with us?’”
Gwen felt it cost her daughter-in-law something to invite her along, but she still appreciated the effort, and wished, rather desperately, that she could accept her invitation. Refusing wasn’t going to bring them closer together, but in this case she had no choice.
“I’m so sorry, Ellie,” she told her, her voice laced with genuine regret, “but I can’t today. I’d love to have joined you, but I have an appointment.” Instinctively, her gaze moved to the letter tucked in its envelope on the toast rack she’d used to hold post since Matthew and Sarah had been small. She’d tried to move the date of the appointment when she’d learned of Matthew and the family’s arrival, but it hadn’t been possible, not without waiting months for another one, and she knew that wasn’t a good idea, even if she dreaded it.
“Oh, right.” Ellie looked discomfited, a mixture of relieved and disappointed, which was, Gwen suspected, exactly how she felt.
“Perhaps you could go with Sarah?” she suggested. “I know she’s looking forward to welcoming you all to the village.”
Although, Gwen had to admit, her daughter hadn’t said as much in so many words. She was a very busy woman, on half a dozen committees, as well ferrying fourteen-year-old Mairi and twelve-year-old Owen to their horse riding and football events respectively. Gwen had always been a bit intimidated by her oldest child’s fearsomely accomplished manner, the way she scheduled every second of her family’s busy lives, and all the activities Mairi and Owen participated in, far more than Sarah and Matthew ever had when they’d been young. Gwen had a suspicion that Sarah and Ellie wouldn’t be natural friends, but perhaps that was being pessimistic.
“Maybe…” Ellie agreed dubiously, looking less than thrilled; Gwen knew Ellie and Sarah had spent very little time together, but maybe this would be a good opportunity to improve their relations. After all, they were all living close together, finally. They would all have to learn to get along… and hopefully it wouldn’t be too onerous a process.
“Do you have her phone number?” Gwen asked. “You could send her a text, ask her along.”
“I might,” Ellie said slowly, before rising from the table. She didn’t ask Gwen for Sarah’s number, and Gwen doubted Ellie had it. “I’d better go get dressed, before the kids all come down demanding their breakfasts. I’m sorry about the coffee.” Her tone had turned scrupulously polite, which saddened Gwen. “I’ll use instant next time.”
“Really, there’s no need—” Gwen began, but Ellie was already walking out of the kitchen.
With a sigh, Gwen slumped against her chair, feeling as if every conversation with her daughter-in-law was doing the opposite of what she wanted and intended it to. When would things get better? How?
If David were alive, he’d smile and pat her hand, tell her to give it time. Matthew, she suspected, would look entirely bemused by the idea; she doubted he even realized the problem existed. He’d always been so easy-going, happy-go-lucky, carefree. This redundancy of his might have been a blip, a bit of a bump, but already he was throwing himself into the next project with enthusiasm.
And as for Sarah? Sarah would shrug and say something dismissive. The two of you are different people, Mum. What does it matter? You don’t need to be best friends.
Maybe not best friends, Gwen allowed, but it did matter, because she wanted to get along with Ellie. She wanted to be close to her, as well as to her grandchildren. She’d babysat Owen and Mairi a bit back when they were little, but they were so busy now, with all their activities—and Sarah seemed to have an allergic reaction to asking her own mother for help—that Gwen felt as if she hardly ever saw them. Here was a chance to bond with Jess, Ben, Josh, and little Ava… if only they would let her. If only she could figure out how.
Another sigh escaped her, as slowly, inexorably, her gaze moved back to the letter lying so innocently in the toast rack, where it had been for several months, since Gwen had first received it.
When, she wondered despondently, was she going to tell Matthew and Sarah about that?
CHAPTER 6
ELLIE
“Of course, you can get your uniform from one of the high-street shops, but the ones the school sells through its online shop are much better quality, as well as being environmentally sustainable, which, of course, is very important, and five percent of the profit goes back to the school, so, really, it’s worth doing.” Sarah’s briskly capable voice carried down the empty street as she and Ellie walked, the children trailing behind them, toward Llandrigg’s village green.
“I’m sure,” Ellie murmured, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the constant monologue of information her sister-in-law was imparting. She hadn’t particularly wanted to text Sarah to join her and the kids on the tour of the village, despite Gwen’s good intentions. When Ellie had first married Matthew, Ellie had felt as if Sarah had sniffily examined her and found her wanting, and her sister-in-law’s opinion hadn’t seemed to change much in the following fifteen years, although, admittedly, they hadn’t seen each other all that often. Still, Ellie had felt it, in the way Sarah tilted her head back every time she looked at her, how every time Ellie said something, she replied with “yes, but…”
At the beginning, Ellie had tried a little harder with Sarah. She’d sent Christmas presents for Owen and Mairi, and they’d Skyped every so often, although Matthew and Sarah had done most of the talking. But somehow, as the children had all got older and life had seemed more busy, it had been easy—and something of a relief—to let their relationship dwindle to Christmas cards, the occasional WhatsApp message or video call.
Now, however, everything was different, because they were here in Wales. Matthew had thought it was a wonderful idea for them to go out together when Ellie had mentioned it, and he had texted Sarah himself, on Ellie’s behalf, before she could tell him not to, or at least to wait and let her think a little. Prepare, at least. Meanwhile, he would be spending the day drawing up renovation plans and contacting builders and plumbers, whistling while he worked. It had been understood, without needing to be discussed, that Ellie would be on childcare duty all day, which was fine, she loved her children, after all, but…
Really, Ellie thought determinedly, there was no but. She was just jet-lagged, emotional, and more or less out of sorts. That morning’s coffee debacle with Gwen hadn’t helped matters, but she needed to get over it. Get over everything. She was here, she would be happy about it, end of. She was going to learn about life in the village, and embrace it all.
“Do you intend to join the PTFA?” Sarah asked in that same carrying voice, and Ellie forced her mind back to the present, giving her sister a bright smile.
“Is that the British version of the PTA?” she questioned, meaning to tease, but Sarah wrinkled her nose, her eyes narrowing just a little.
“I suppose that’s what you call it in the US,” she remarked, and Ellie heard, or rather felt, the slight note of censure in her voice. You’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy.
“Right. Yes, it is.” Ellie nodded, determined to move on. “So it’s the PTFA here. Well, to be honest, I haven’t thought about it yet, but maybe in time? I think I’ll probably have my hands full, helping the kids settle in for the first semester—”
“We don’t have semesters. We have terms. Three of them, actually.”
“Right. First term, then, I guess.” Ellie tried to keep her voice cheerful. Had that correction, along with a dozen others so far that afternoon, really been needed? She was American. She didn’t speak British English, despite being married to a Brit for fifteen years. Maybe she should start trying, even if she feared it would feel forced, and worse, sound fake. But, still. PTFA. Terms. She could remember that.