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My feet move without me telling them to, and I’m suddenly at the dirt road, staring past the low-hanging trees to the curve where I was taken out by his truck. The trees sway. The birds tweet. The morning sun beats down between the gaps in the dense canopy. Peace. I feel, see, and hear only peace. He said he lived there. He lives in the woods?
I take one more step forward and stop sharply when a rabbit dashes across the road.
Back away, Hannah.
Nibbling my bottom lip, I turn with effort and start my walk back into town. But I’m constantly looking over my shoulder as I go. Curious. Wondering about him.
When I get home, I have the shower I missed in my haste this morning, before throwing on a red sundress and tying a bright-blue scarf in my hair. I slip on my silver Birkenstocks and head downstairs just before nine thirty, unlocking the door to my shop and propping it open with a stone statue of a Highland terrier. Then I put myself behind the counter.
And I sit there. And I twiddle my thumbs. An hour later, I tidy a shelf of brushes that doesn’t need tidying. And an hour after that, I sweep the floor that’s already clean. I see people passing by, people I recognize from the town – some by name, some by face – but none of them come in. I don’t let it dishearten me.
When it reaches noon, I pop to Mrs Heaven’s café next door to buy myself a sandwich and one of her famous blueberry muffins. As I’m wandering back, I notice Molly by the lamppost outside my shop. ‘Hi,’ I say as I approach, craning my neck to see what she’s doing. She has a roll of tape in her mouth, her hands on the lamppost.
She smiles through the roll and finishes taping a piece of paper to it. ‘Hey.’ Stuffing a few bits in her purse, she nods toward my shop door. ‘How’s business?’
‘Quiet,’ I reply, though I suspect she has seen that for herself. Everyone around here must have. ‘I’m hoping my online shop will pull the art lovers in.’
Molly smiles and takes the tape from her mouth. ‘Thank you so much for helping me out this morning.’
‘My pleasure.’ I toss the remnants of my sandwich in a nearby bin. ‘How’s the solar system looking?’
‘Colourful.’ She laughs, but then she’s quickly wincing, looking at my legs. ‘What happened to your knee?’
‘Oh.’ I wave my hand flippantly. ‘I fell off my bike last night.’ I won’t go into details. ‘It’s just a graze.’ Diverting my attention to the poster she’s just stuck to the lamppost, I go for a quick subject change. ‘What’s this?’
‘The town’s annual fete.’ She reaches forward and pats down the tape. ‘A kind of celebration of the founding of Hampton. We close the high street and put on a bit of a party.’
‘Sounds great.’
‘Yeah, it’s good fun. Mrs Heaven sells her famous cakes, the pub landlord brings barrels of cider out onto the street, and Mr Chaps sets up a toffee apple stand. Country dancing, a beauty pageant, that kind of thing.’
I read the poster. ‘Hosted by Lord and Lady Hampton?’ I say as I return my attention to Molly. I just catch her eye roll before she can hide it. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting them yet, but I’ve heard all about the richest family in town who live in the mansion on the Hampton Estate.
‘Their ancestors founded Hampton centuries ago. This annual event is really just so they can bask in the glory of the oh-so-wonderful town we live in, thanks to them.’ Another hugely sarcastic eye roll. ‘We only have to stroke their egos for a day. It’s no hardship, and everyone has fun.’ Her eyes suddenly light up. ‘Hey, you’re good with paint, right? I mean using it, not making it.’
I laugh a little. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘We need something else for the kids. We only have the usual games and the beauty pageant.’
‘Like a painting competition?’ I don’t know where that came from, but Molly seems to love the idea if her bright smile is anything to go by.
‘Oh yes! I was actually thinking more face painting, but a painting competition sounds perfect.’
I shrug, pushing back the image of my niece’s butterfly cheeks. How I’d have loved to be the one who painted those wings on her cute little face. But that can’t happen. Ever.
Molly’s smile brightens some more. ‘Can I put your name down?’
‘Sure,’ I answer, happy to help. I love this town more and more each day – the community, the friendliness, the beauty of the countryside. Though I really shouldn’t get too used to it. It’ll only make it more difficult to leave when the time comes. This is a pit stop. A temporary home until I can move on to somewhere even farther from London. Maybe Ireland. Ireland’s pretty. There will also be plenty for me to paint. England is risky. Being here is risky; I know that. But I need to see my mum.
