Dominic frowned. “Come on, you’ve known him as long asI have. Have you upset him again? I got the feeling this work crisis thing was an excuse.”
“Well, if informing him that I’m not his employee, I’m not at his beck and call to sort out his interior decorating problems counts as upsetting him, then yes. Maybe. It’s his own fault.”
My jaw tightened. I was in the kitchen to fetch a cup of water for Edwin, and I kept my eyes down and padded back out toward the day nursery. But I hovered out of sight in the utility area between the two rooms.
“For God’s sake, Ruth. He doesn’tneedyour help. He’s just excited. He just wants to include us in his project.” There was a sharp edge of exasperation in Dominic’s voice. “Why do you always do this?”
“You have no idea what it’s like for me stuck out here in the week. Do you think it’s all fun and games? I gave up my career for this.”
I held my breath. Ruth had told me about the banking career she left when she had the twins; about how much she loved it, how much she missed it. I gripped the door handle of the day nursery, upset at how dismissive she was about the days she shared with Edwin and me.
“So let’s move into Winterbourne, then,” Dominic said. “Get Edwin into the school the Mellard kids go to. You could pick up some part-time hours, see how it suits—”
There was a scrape of chair leg on tiles.
“I’m not taking Edwin away from Summerbourne,” Ruth said. “Never.”
I slipped into the day nursery and kept Edwin out of their way for the rest of the morning.
Ruth remained preoccupied even after Dominic returned to London that Monday. Edwin and I fell into a routine of playingoutside every morning—in the garden or at the beach, or at the playground in the village if we fancied a walk and a trip to the shop. We’d return to the house for lunch, and then choose a project for the afternoon: creating models from cardboard boxes, baking biscuits, designing treasure hunts. There was no part of me that minded working longer hours than I was supposed to; the busier I was, the less chance I had to feel lonely or to dwell on what had and hadn’t happened with Alex at the base of the cliff steps.
Ruth often drifted into the kitchen as Edwin and I were eating lunch, and she seemed to enjoy Edwin’s happy chatter as he told her what we’d been up to, but for three weekends in a row she complained of a headache when Dominic was home. I didn’t hear either of them mention Alex’s name.
Vera phoned on a Tuesday toward the end of the month. “Would you mind awfully taking Edwin to his gym class tomorrow afternoon, Laura? I’d like to come down and take Ruth out for lunch. Have a proper chat with her.”
“Of course,” I replied. “No problem.”
“Thank you, my dear. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
Edwin wasn’t fazed by having to walk to his gym class. Helen Luckhurst was there with her solemn son, Ralph; her new baby daughter, Daisy, muffled in a sling against her chest. She bought me a polystyrene cup of gray coffee, and quizzed me about daily life at Summerbourne while we watched the children wobble along beams.
“Does she act like a proper mum, though—Ruth—when she’s at home?” She widened her eyes at me, waiting for my reply, her lips parted.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean, she always seems so—cold. Especially since shelost her other little boy. Does she blame Edwin for that? For distracting her? Does she still love him, do you think? I mean—really, deep down, like a proper mum?”
I inhaled sharply through my nose, and turned away. When she realized I wasn’t intending to answer, she shrugged and wandered off to chat to someone else.
Ruth and Vera were still out at lunch when Edwin and I got home. I settled him in front of his favorite cartoon video in the day nursery, and was in the kitchen when the phone rang.
“Hello, Summerbourne?”
“Hi, Laura, it’s Alex.”
“Oh. Hi.” I stretched the spiral cord between my fingers. It was three weeks and five days since he’d tucked the flowers into my hair, leaning in so close to me, smiling his half smile at me. Had he been counting the days too?
“I just wondered—is Ruth there?” he said. The telephone cord sprang back at me, bouncing briefly up and down with a rhythm like a laugh.
“No, sorry,” I said. “She’s out.”
“Ah. Would you mind giving her a message?”
I picked up the pencil kept on the hall table for that purpose. “Of course.”
“Could you tell her I’m at the cottage now until Sunday. If she wants to pop round before the weekend, she’d be very welcome. My neighbors tell me there’s a Halloween party on in the village tomorrow night—do you know if she’s thinking of going? Or perhaps I should wait until the weekend.” He paused. “Perhaps I should give Dominic a ring.”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll tell her.”
