“I don’t know why he thinks I’m at his beck and call. Just because we’re out in the country doesn’t mean we don’t have plenty of other things going on in our lives.” She stroked Edwin’s hair, frowning. “I might have to keep you this size forever and ever, Edwin,” she murmured.
I gritted my teeth. At the picnic on the beach a couple of weeks ago she was begging Alex to visit her during the week, to rescue her from boredom; now she was complaining about him. Edwin batted her hand away and jumped up to take his bowl to the sink.
Alex wasn’t mentioned again until the Friday morning, and it was me who brought him up when I saw Ruth checking her lipstick in the hall mirror, and unhooking her raincoat from the cupboard.
“I’m just popping out,” she told me. “Helen Luckhurst had her baby on Monday. A little girl. They think she has some problems. I’m going to take her some flowers—see if we can do anything to help.”
I stared at her.
“Isn’t Alex taking you out for lunch?”
She laughed and waved the question away.
“Oh, Alex—I’d almost forgotten. Well, he can jolly well wait for me to get back. I’ll only be an hour or so,” she said, and she picked up her bag and marched out of the house.
I watched her car glide out of the drive, pausing alongside two figures for a minute as she wound down her window and said something, before disappearing toward the village. Michael and Joel ambled up the gravel, and I had the door open before they reached it.
“Please may I play with Edwin?” Joel asked, craning his neck to peer behind me into the house.
“Preschool’s closed,” Michael said to me, with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “He was coming with me to the Matthews’ place, but Ruth said you might not mind having him here for a bit instead. Don’t want to impose.”
I swung the door open wide and beckoned Joel in.
“It’ll make Edwin’s day,” I said to Michael, and we exchanged smiles at the shouts of glee that erupted from the kitchen.
It was a blustery morning, and bright bursts of sunshine were interspersed with shade from the scudding clouds. I decided to let the boys play for half an hour in the day nursery, and if Alex hadn’t arrived by then, I would take them down to the beach for a run around on the sand. They always seemed particularly full of energy on windy days.
I tried not to clock-watch, but I heard the crunch of Alex’s car while the boys were absorbed in their game, and I met him at the door. His expression was expectant.
“Laura, hi. Is Ruth...?”
I chewed my lip. “She went out. I’m sorry. She left about twenty minutes ago, said she’d be an hour or two.”
He looked so crestfallen, I stepped back without thinking. “Do you want to come in?” We walked through to the kitchen.
“Do you know where she went?” he asked, his eyes roaming over the unwashed breakfast dishes, the paintings on the fridge, the wall calendar.
I picked up his sunglasses from the windowsill. “You left these. At the picnic.” I handed them to him. “She’s gone to visit a baby in the village.”
“Oh.” He opened the arms of the sunglasses, closed them again. “Right.” He thought for a moment, then glanced at me. “What are you and Edwin up to for the next hour?”
“We were going to go down to the beach. Get the wind in our hair, you know. Would you like to come?”
“Oh, I meant would I be in your way if I stayed here to wait?”
“Oh right. No, of course not.”
“But the beach does sound good,” he said, and then he was smiling, and there must have been a break in the clouds because the kitchen was suddenly flooded with sunshine.
Edwin and Joel hurtled in.
“Uncle Alex! Look, Joel’s here!”
“Excellent,” Alex said. “I was hoping for two smart boys to show me where the blackberries grow on the way to the beach.” Within minutes I had locked up and we were heading toward the back gate.
“No climbing this time, Edwin,” Alex called out, and Edwin shook his head vigorously as he ran ahead with Joel.
“No way!”
