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“Do what?” she made herself ask. “Marriage? Family life?”
He closed his eyes. “I know how it sounds. And how you’re making me feel—”
“So it’smyfault?” She was practically screeching.
“No, I don’t mean that.” He blew out a breath, his head dropping into his hands. “It’s really my fault. I’m the one who is feeling this way. I just… I just need some time to get my head around… around everything.”
She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “What’s changed, Nathan?” she asked quietly. “For you? Why has everything got so much?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m having a midlife crisis.” He smiled grimly, although Sarah didn’t think he was far off. What else could this be? “I just wake up in the morning and think about going to work, and then going home again, over and over, and I feel like I just… can’t.”
Sarah felt a flicker of sympathy, no more. “Everybody feels that way sometimes, Nathan.”
“I’ve felt that way every day for nearly a year, Sarah. I’m sorry, but I really do need a break.” He was back to being intractable, defiant.
A break? What on earth was that supposed to mean? What kind of break, and how long for? “So, what are you saying?” She made herself ask the question as if what he’d said was reasonable, when, in truth, she felt like screaming, swearing, flying at him. He was allowed to have a midlife crisis and she wasn’t? Basically, he could be as selfish as he liked and she’d have to be the one to hold their family together,still.
“I’m saying,” Nathan replied, and now he sounded completely final and firm, “I’m going to move out. I’ll explain to Mairi and Owen later, and we can talk to Mairi about her exams, but I think I should leave tonight.”
CHAPTER15
GWEN
TWO WEEKS LATER
“John, they’re simply beautiful.”
Gwen gazed admiringly at the finished nativity pieces, shaking her head in wonder. It was heading into late November, and things with the inn were really starting to shape up in an exciting way, ahead of a Christmas week that was now fully booked. The garden was decorated as a winter wonderland, with fairy lights adorning every evergreen, a Santa’s grotto was in place under the willow tree, with its own platform and carved chair for their Santa—that was, Matthew with a white beard and a hat and coat of red felt—and now these nativity pieces were arranged on their own makeshift stage that Matthew had gamely built—Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus in his manger, a shepherd, a sheep, and a wise man, all made of smooth, burnished oak and suitable for little hands to move around and play with as they liked.
“I’ve really enjoyed making them,” John told her. “Gave this old man something to do.”
“You’re not that old,” Gwen teased, smiling at him as she felt her heart give a now familiar little skip, and he smiled back. They’d seen a good deal of each other over the last few weeks—often sharing lunch or a cup of tea after John had worked in David’s old workshop, and going out on occasion, as well. They’d had dinner at a pub outside Abergavenny, and gone to Hay-on-Wye to browse its many bookshops and art galleries. And just yesterday they’d driven all the way to Cowbridge to wander through its Christmas market, admiring the stalls of hand-painted ornaments and jams and chutneys. Gwen had bought a few things for the inn.
John’s gorgeous little grandson, Oliver, had been born two weeks ago and Gwen had oohed and aahed over the photos, feeling quite nostalgic for when her own grandchildren had been that small. John had naturally been bursting with both joy and pride.
In all these exchanges and excursions, Gwen felt as if they’d shared something, and it filled her with a burgeoning excitement as well as a quiet, private joy. Surely John felt the same, or at leastsomethingof the same.
“Well, sometimes it feels like I am a bit creaky,” he replied now, “especially with my various aches and pains! But I’m glad the pieces are all right. Should be fun for some little ones to play with, as long as they don’t bash each other over the head with them, that is.”
“They’re more than all right,” Gwen assured him. “They’re absolutelyperfect.” She gazed at the figures on their stage with a smile, a lightness in her heart despite the anxieties of the last month.
Sarah hadn’t told her anything more about what was going on between her and Nathan, and she’d also shut down Gwen’s attempts at conversation, but there could be no denying her daughter was looking strained and dispirited. Matthew was still waiting on news from his Zoom interview—it had been several weeks since he’d had the online meeting, but apparently the board of directors had had to have some sort of consultation before they made a decision, and he might not know if he’d be flown out to America for a while yet. Even so, it seemed to Gwen he was taking out his phone every two minutes to check if he’d missed a call or an email, and then smiling shamefacedly when he realized what he was doing.
And then there was poor little Ava, who was still wetting the bed most nights, and looking quite pale and tired as a result. And Ellie had had some sort of distressing call from school recently, about Ben. What exactly had happened, neither Ellie nor Matthew had told her, but they’d had to go into school to meet with the headteacher, and came home afterwards looking rather grim. Gwen had got the sense that she wasn’t meant to ask anything, but Ben was clearly in some sort of trouble, because he’d been suspended from school for a day, his phone had been taken away and he’d been banned from his games console—a punishment that was as difficult for the adults as for Ben, since it meant he often slouched around the house complaining he was bored.
And yet… despite all that, there was John. John smiling at her with that warmth in his eyes, that easy affection in his voice. John making her heart skip a beat and her mind start to daydream as they wandered through the Christmas market in Cowbridge, or chatted about the paintings in an art gallery in Hay, or talked in quiet voices in a candlelit pub. It was all completely innocent, of course, and John had given her no real reason to think there was anything between them but old, abiding friendship, and yet… Gwen herself felt there was more. She felt it in her own heart, and she couldn’t keep it from giving way to hope.
She’d told herself a thousand times there was no fool like an old fool, and not to read too much into John’s friendliness, and yet it was so very hard not to. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed this kind of easy companionship until she’d had a taste of it again.
“Cup of tea?” she asked, and John nodded.
“Yes, that sounds wonderful. And actually… there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Oh?” Now Gwen’s heart was skippingdoublebeats. “Sounds serious,” she remarked lightly, and John’s smile deepened, although she thought she detected a shadow of worry in his normally bright blue eyes. What could he possibly be worried about? Should she feel nervous—or hopeful?
Gwen, I’ve so enjoyed these last few weeks and I was wondering if you’d ever think about making it something more…
“No, not too serious,” he replied, but hesoundedserious, and Gwen didn’t reply as they headed back to the house.
