Chapter 10
The low winter sun was forcing its way through the cloud when Lauren reached the footpath that led around the perimeter of Willowmere Lake.
It was a route she knew well, but in the bleakness of a winter’s afternoon, it held far fewer charms than during the hazy days of summer.
The beech and sycamore trees that picked out the diameter of the lake like second markers on a clock face were bare, the last of their leaves lying in rust-coloured piles.
The grass that bordered the footpath, slow growing in winter, looked grey and tired, and the lake itself wasn’t much brighter.
When the sky was clear and the sun set in winter the views could be spectacular, turning the lake a warm orange and red before it faded, but today, shrouded in low cloud and a rolling mist, the landscape was dull and unwelcoming.
Lauren didn’t mind; it felt like a reflection of her own mood.
She’d walked off her initial shock, and was now mulling over the conversation with Myriam, trying to make sense of it all.
She couldn’t blame her mother for wanting to branch out: they’d both got very comfortable in their way of life over the years.
It had been just the two of them for as long as Lauren could remember.
She’d had the odd boyfriend, but nothing had ever felt permanent.
Still, she was happy with her cosy little rut.
Little rut? Was that what she thought of her life?
Feeling guilty about thinking that way about her beloved café and the mother she adored, Lauren gave her head a shake.
Just because Myriam wanted to go on a working holiday without her, it didn’t mean she was being abandoned.
Lauren upped her pace as she reached the first quarter marker of the path.
If she was going to get all the way around the lake before it rained, she’d better get a move on.
Myriam had battled long and hard to get to a point where she could begin to regain some independence.
Lauren remembered the long hours of physiotherapy, which turned into weeks, months and years of rehabilitation.
With a stab of pain, she recalled witnessing her mother’s frustration at being unable to perform the simplest tasks with hands that just wouldn’t do what she wanted them to do.
Myriam had always tried to put a brave face on it, especially when Lauren had been younger, but Lauren had often caught her mother brushing away angry tears at being unable to tie shoelaces, sign her name without her handwriting becoming shaky, and completely unable to recapture her previous blazing ability to paint.
Over the years, and with plenty of exhausting commitment, Myriam had regained most of her former skills and painting, especially, had become a passion once again as well as her therapy.
Lauren was proud of her mother for taking the leap and keeping in touch with the gallery and her delight when Gary had accepted a couple of her more recent works to show alongside her earlier projects.
Na?vely, and perhaps unfairly to Myriam, Lauren had just assumed that Gary was being charitable – taking her mother’s work for old times’ sake.
As she walked, she felt an unpleasant glow of shame playing about her cheeks at the realisation that she may well have been selling her mother short.
If Gary had organised this commission on the river cruise for Myriam, that showed he still had faith in her talent and ability as an artist. Perhaps it was time for Lauren to do the same.
She was over halfway round the lake by the time she came to these conclusions.
Up ahead of her, she could see a tall figure wrapped in an overcoat, and even further ahead, the fuzzy silhouettes of two children.
As she drew closer, she could hear the two kids calling back, ‘Daddy!’ She gave a smile.
It was lovely to see the youngsters energised by the nature around them.
She’d been the same as a kid, growing up at the foot of the north-east Manchester moors.
She and her mother had spent many happy hours traversing the foothills of Saddleworth Moor.
The bleakness of the landscape had inspired some of her mother’s early work and had become somewhere the two of them could switch off from stress and just appreciate the countryside.
When they’d moved down to Somerset, Myriam had looked for somewhere that felt aligned to the northern moors they both loved so much and although the Mendips and the Quantocks, both within striking distance of Lower Brambleton, had a softer, more undulating presence, both of them had grown to love the green rolling hills of the Somerset landscape.
As Lauren closed the gap between herself and the three people ahead of her, she recognised the voice of the man who was calling to the two children: Marc Hathaway. Realising she was gaining ground on them, she shook away the last of her gloomy thoughts and smiled.
‘Hello,’ she said brightly when she was about ten feet away from them so that her presence wouldn’t make any of them jump. ‘Lovely day for a walk.’ She raised a hand as if she was checking for rain.
Marc glanced over his shoulder blankly but then smiled in recognition.
Lauren noticed what a lovely smile he had, and how the prominent crows’ feet around his eyes grew deeper but softened his expression.
The chilly winter air had brought colour to his cheeks and in the rays of sun struggling through the dense cloud, the grey streaks in his hair caught the light.
‘Well, I need to do something to make sure that these two sleep well tonight!’ Marc replied.
‘I made the mistake of trying to replicate that wonderful hot chocolate that we had at your café, but I think I went slightly overboard on the sugar and marshmallows and they’ve been bouncing off the walls ever since. ’
Lauren giggled. ‘If you like, I can write down the recipe for you and that way you can judge how much sugar is too much with a little more accuracy.’
To her surprise, Marc joined in her laughter. ‘I think that would definitely be a safer option than the concoction that I fed them.’
Right on cue, both boys bounded up. ‘Look at what I found!’ One of them, Lauren wasn’t quite sure which, proudly presented Marc with an enormous pine cone.
‘He didn’t find it, I did!’ the other boy protested but was quietened with a silencing glare from his brother.
Marc glanced at Lauren and gave her a conspiratorial grin. ‘Well, whoever found it, you both did a great job bringing it to us.’ He accepted the pine cone and turned it over in his hands. ‘This is in really good condition. Perhaps we could put it by the fire and dry it out.’
‘And if you’ve got any glitter or paint at home, you could always decorate it and put it on your Christmas tree,’ Lauren added. ‘I made a lot of those when I was younger. I think I’ve still got some tucked away somewhere.’
‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ Marc gave the pine cone back to the boy who had handed it to him. ‘I’ll get on Prime later and see if I can order some art supplies.’
One of the boys beamed. The other looked a little crestfallen. Marc seemed immediately to pick up on this. ‘Don’t worry, Luca, I’m sure there’s plenty more where this came from. Shall we see if we can have a look before we go home?’
Luca nodded. Lauren got the impression that he may well have been the twin who found the pine cone in the first place, but for the sake of keeping things calm he’d learned to allow his brother to take the credit.
Marc turned back to Lauren. ‘Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your walk.’ There was a slight pause between them. Their eyes met for a second longer than necessary, and Lauren’s heart did a funny flip, just like it had the first time she’d encountered him.
‘I hope you manage to find another really good one,’ she stammered, suddenly feeling shy in front of this attractive, softly spoken man with his two adorable twin boys. Stop it, she told herself. The poor guy lost his wife!
‘I’m sure we will.’ Marc gave her another smile before heading back off down the path.
Despite the slight awkwardness as they went their separate ways, Lauren couldn’t help thinking about Marc and his sons.
The boys were so sweet, and Marc seemed to be managing so well on his own with them.
It couldn’t be easy, lone parenting, and to twins at that.
Lauren wasn’t sure if she ever wanted children.
So much of her childhood had been spent supporting her mother, she felt decidedly ambivalent about having her own offspring.
Then she shook her head. Perhaps she just hadn’t found the right person yet.
As she walked back home, she found that she was no longer feeling conflicted about her mother’s announcement.
The fresh air, the beautiful landscape around Willowmere Lake and the brief but lovely encounter with Marc and his children had lifted her spirits.
She let herself in through the back door of the maisonette and smiled when she saw that her mother had drawn her a little sketch and left her a deliciously concocted hot chocolate in her favourite Stanley thermal mug.
I thought you might appreciate something to warm you up when you got back from your walk!
Love,
Mum x
Lauren flipped the lid on the Stanley and took a cautious sip just in case it was still too hot to drink, but she needn’t have worried.
Myriam had heated the milk to the perfect temperature and even left a small ramekin of marshmallows for Lauren to add when she returned.
The sweet creaminess of the hot chocolate was the perfect welcome after a chilly walk.
There was a good reason Lauren used Myriam’s recipe in the café.
Lauren glanced again at the note and the sketch, which was a small rendering of a cute-looking Christmas elf holding an enormous mug of marshmallow-topped hot chocolate.
‘Thanks, Mum!’ she called up the stairs.
‘You’re welcome,’ Myriam replied.
That was the thing about the infrequent disharmonies of their mother-daughter relationship; they never lasted long. And although Lauren was still concerned about her mother going away, the walk had at least allowed her to get it into some perspective. Sipping hot chocolate, she wandered upstairs.
That night, she and Myriam settled down together on the sofa to watch a couple of episodes of their favourite FilmFlix drama, and Lauren tried to quieten the worried little voices inside her head.
She was still worried about her mother’s health, and whether or not she’d be physically resilient enough to manage a fortnight of teaching and cruising, despite Myriam’s confident assurances.
Those concerns felt perfectly logical and reasonable.
The other voice was squeakier, more insistent, more selfish and kept nagging at Lauren: how are you going to cope with no-one to come home to of an evening?
She needed her mother’s support regularly, to talk things through.
The thought of not having Myriam at home to do that made her brain ache.
The problem was, no matter how firmly she kept putting those thoughts to one side, they just wouldn’t go away.