‘You did work awfully late last night.’
‘Got to get it finished. And I’m taking a break now.’ He demolished the last piece of buttered toast. ‘Talking of which, don’t you ever think about taking a break?’ She was seventy-two and still working as though she were thirty years younger. He was all for doing what you loved but when did she last take a whole day off for herself and not to do something for someone else or run an errand? When did she last take a holiday?
‘Not needed, Lincoln.’ He knew she was full-naming him to make her point. And she gave him a wink that reminded him of when he was a boy and she’d come to visit and sneakily pass him a big slab of milk chocolate that he’d hide up in his bedroom and enjoy for himself.
‘I’ve got more work too, at the waffle shack.’
‘For Daniel?’
‘Yeah. Once we’re done with the bakery it’ll be on to that, if you don’t mind me hanging around a while longer.’
‘I’d love it, it’s wonderful having you here.’
He got up and put his arm around her. ‘Thank you. And talking of the waffle shack, now I’m up and about I might head over there and ask for some more details. Harvey’s at the bakery waiting for a delivery and he has things in hand there so right now I’ve got a bit of free time until I’m needed.’
‘You make sure you don’t overwork yourself,’ she frowned. ‘You don’t want to start the autumn term exhausted.’
‘Tell you what – I’ll take a break if you will.’ He dropped his plate into the soapy water already in the sink.
She laughed and gave him a little shove on the shoulder. ‘Not a chance.’ With the folder clutched in front of her chest again, she hadn’t finished worrying. ‘Are you going back to supply teaching come September? You haven’t thought about settling into a permanent position again?’
‘I haven’t thought about it yet, no.’
‘Moving from place to place isn’t always a good idea,’ she went on. ‘You’re too young to be avoiding the world.’
‘I’m not avoiding the world. I’ve been very sociable since I got here – the pub, the tea rooms, the bakery and, next, the waffle shack.’
‘True. It’s just your dad –’
‘He worries, I know.’
As a music teacher, Linc had been able to find plenty of supply work and had found the relative anonymity, along with the lack of involvement in the politics side of the job, a welcome relief. His head hadn’t been able to handle all those extra stresses of the job before now, but perhaps Etna and his dad were right. Maybe it was time he started to put out feelers for something more solid. He didn’t want to move around forever and he’d covered the same schools more than once now anyway, meaning he was in fact beginning to get to know people. And his moving from place to place meant he didn’t really get time to invest in his students and he was starting to miss that, miss seeing children who had a talent, or who struggled, flourish after their joint efforts to get them to a certain point.
He chanced mentioning again that Etna might want to take a break. ‘Dad would love it if you went to stay with him.’
‘It’s just hard with the tea rooms. I keep telling him to come this way.’
‘He’s worried he won’t see enough of you if he does.’
Etna and Joseph had always been close – more so since Linc’s mum passed away, and again when Joseph was in hospital. Etna had visited whenever she could and Linc would be forever grateful he’d come through his illness and was now in good health. Losing one parent had been hard enough; he wanted his dad around for a lot longer yet. Unfortunately, since Joseph lost his wife and then had his health scare, he hadn’t managed to quite find his footing again. He had people at the pub to talk to, the odd neighbour who popped in, but Linc suspected what Joseph really needed was a good dose of family. Having his sister around and sidestepping his usual routine might be all that was required to put a real spring back in his step.
‘Nonsense,’ Etna insisted. ‘He’ll see me. He can plonk himself in the tea rooms and keep me company.’
‘Perhaps I’ll suggest it again then.’ Both of them were creatures of habit and those habits were hard to break.
‘Your dad is lucky to have had you at his side.’ Etna had stopped in the doorway and now came back over to the table. She sat down next to him. ‘I still feel dreadful that I didn’t do more to help you when your mum was taken ill and then your dad.’
‘You did enough. You helped a lot with Mum, came whenever you could. We knew you couldn’t do it all the time, not while running your own business. But you were there for us all.’ He put a hand over hers. ‘Everyone has their own life.’
‘I could say the same to you.’
‘Walked right into that one, didn’t I?’ He smiled briefly. ‘But I wouldn’t change a thing. I stepped up when I had to, that was all.’
‘You know, your dad might not like hanging around with me, his bossy older sister.’
‘You, bossy?’ he teased. He could well imagine. With her being older too he expected she’d been in charge a lot when they were kids. But whilst Etna still ran a tight ship and liked to be in control, Linc could tell she was also very tired, as much as she’d protest that she wasn’t. Her joviality in the tea rooms didn’t always continue when she came home exhausted and if anyone needed a break, it was her. ‘Have a think about my suggestion of a holiday,’ he went on. ‘You might find you enjoy it and come back even more raring to go. You and Dad could have dinner at the local pub every night if you wanted – they do the highly acclaimed carvery, it’s within stumbling distance of Dad’s place.’
‘Sometimes I swear he and your mum chose the house for that very reason.’
