13
Dorothy
“ I mogen is joining us for lunch?” Sara dumped the bags on the kitchen table and sent her mother a look of despair. Snow clung to her coat and her hair and a large overnight bag bulged on her shoulder. “No! Why? What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t really thinking. It was all very spontaneous.” And now Dorothy felt terribly guilty. “When I visited yesterday, she looked so alone. I asked her if there was someone she’d like to invite to join her in the cottage, but she said there was no one. No one! Can you imagine having no one to invite? I couldn’t leave her like that, Sara. I couldn’t do it. If you’d seen her, you would have invited her to lunch too.”
“I would not.” Exasperated, Sara dropped the overnight bag in the corner of the kitchen. “Maybe it makes me a terrible person, but I would have had no problem not issuing an invitation for lunch. You’ve already been more than generous offering her the cottage.”
And Dorothy knew Sara was upset about that too. “I couldn’t bear to think of her spending a month alone in London,” she said unhappily. “If you’d seen her—”
“I would have suggested that four weeks is a great opportunity for long-haul travel. The Caribbean is great at this time of year.”
“Maybe I should have said that, but there was something about her. She seemed—” Dorothy rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Why isn’t she spending Christmas with family, Sara?”
Their eyes met and held.
Then Sara looked away, as if she couldn’t bear the question in Dorothy’s eyes. “I don’t know. And that is not our business. She’s a stranger. A stranger.” She enunciated the word carefully. “She’s not your responsibility, Mum.”
“I know that. But—”
“Mum!”
“I’m sorry.” Dorothy had a knot of anxiety in her stomach. “Having her in the cottage shouldn’t interfere with you at all, but I shouldn’t have issued the invitation for lunch. I see that now. I didn’t think it through. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Sara’s expression softened. “I know that.” She crossed the room and hugged her mother and Dorothy hugged her back.
“Forgive me.”
“Forgive you for being kind and generous?” Sara eased away. “It’s who you are, and that is never going to change. But I must admit sometimes I wish you weren’t quite so generous.”
“I’m going to change. I am going to learn to say no. And I think I’m getting better at it. I did say no to Miles the other day when he tried to tempt me with a kitten.”
Sara shook her head, but this time there was laughter in her eyes. “That’s the best you can do? You are a lost cause.”
“Maybe.” Dorothy glanced at the corner of the room. “What’s in the bag you brought?”
“The girls’ clothes for their party later. Ava can’t stay clean for five minutes so if she wore her dress now she’d look like a wreck by the time we get there. She can change before we leave.”
The village Christmas party. She’d forgotten, probably because all the room in her head had been taken up by Imogen. “What fun for them. I roasted a chicken for lunch.” Dorothy opened the oven to check on the chicken. “Doesn’t it smell delicious? Organic, from the farm. It was a gift from Valerie for the casseroles I made her. And I’ve made an apple pie.”
“It does smell good. I brought extra carrots and parsnips, as requested.” Sara opened the bag on the table and then stopped. “What are we going to talk about? This is awkward. I actually feel nervous.”
“She’s very easy to get along with. It will be good for you to have an opportunity to get to know her properly.”
“I don’t want to get to know her properly.” There was a note of panic in Sara’s voice. “What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?”
“Just be your usual kind, welcoming self and leave the rest to me.” But she could see now that this did have the potential to be awkward.
Sara sat down at the kitchen table, her shoulders slumped. “What time is she arriving?”
“Any moment.” Wishing the whole thing was over, Dorothy sprinkled a few extra sprigs of fresh thyme onto the chicken and carefully returned it to the oven. “What time do you have to take the girls to the party in the village?”
“Four o’clock.” Sara looked at her. “I can’t do this.”
Dorothy closed the oven door and straightened. “You don’t have to do anything. Just enjoy lunch.”
“But that’s the point. I can’t enjoy it. I’m so tense and stressed I feel as if I might explode.” Sara’s voice wobbled. “I think I’ll go home, Mum. Tell her I didn’t feel well. Tell her one of the girls was sick. Tell her anything you like, but I’m not staying. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this.” She stood up just as Ava skipped into the room with Bailey at her heels.
“What can’t you do, Mummy?” Ava did a twirl and almost fell over the dog. “You can do anything if you try. That’s what you always say to me. I’m practising my ballet, Nanna. Watch me.”
“I’m watching, sweetie. Move away from Bailey or you’re going to pirouette right into him.” Dorothy was also watching her daughter. She saw Sara pull herself together. Swiftly the emotion was masked with a smile, albeit a strained one.
“We’re not staying for lunch, Ava. I have a headache.” Sara looked so pale and tired it wasn’t a claim anyone was likely to argue with. “Where’s Iris?”
Ava stopped twirling and frowned. “But Nanna made chicken with my favorite potatoes. And you said I have to eat a proper lunch or all the sugar at the party will make me sick.”
“I’ll make you something at home. Iris!”
“But I want chicken.”
Iris appeared in the doorway. “What’s the matter?”
“Mummy has a headache and now we can’t eat the chicken.” Ava looked desolate and Dorothy felt terrible that she’d caused so much friction. She and Sara were close. She should have given more consideration to the fact that she might find this difficult.
“Oh, Mummy.” Iris was by Sara’s side in an instant, her arms around her. “Can I get you tablets or a glass of water?”
Dorothy saw Sara’s eyes mist.
“No, honey. I’ll be fine. But I’d just like to go home if you don’t mind.”
“Of course we don’t mind.” Iris stroked Sara’s hair. “We’ll go right now. Do you want me to call Daddy?”
“No, I’ll be fine. But thank you for asking.”
“I mind,” Ava howled. “I mind a lot. I want to stay here with Nanna and Bailey and eat chicken.”
“That’s bad manners, Ava. We’re a family,” Iris said firmly, “which means we always stick together and support each other. If Mummy needs to go home, then we go home.”
Dorothy met Sara’s gaze. We’re a family, which means we always stick together.
Ava looked chastened. “Are we still going to the party later?”
Iris shushed her. “Don’t worry about the party.”
“But—”
Sara gave a wan smile. “I’ll be fine to take you to that, I’m sure.”
Dorothy was about to try one more time to persuade her to stay when the doorbell rang.
“I’ll go.” Ava sprinted out of the room before anyone could stop her, and she reappeared moments later with a nervous Imogen.
“Hi. I hope I’m not early?” Imogen was clutching a box of chocolates. Like Sara, her hair and coat were dusted with snow. “I thought it would take me longer to walk here.” Under the warm coat, she was wearing a cream cable-knit sweater with black jeans and fur-lined boots. The cold had given her cheeks a pink tinge.
Ava took the chocolates. “Thank you. How do you know my Nanna?”
“Imogen and I work together, and she will be staying in Holly Cottage for a few weeks.” Dorothy pulled herself together. “Thank you for the chocolates. That’s kind of you, Imogen. You’ve already met Ava. This is my daughter, Sara, and my other granddaughter, Iris.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Iris shook Imogen’s hand carefully while casting anxious looks toward her mother.
Sara was gazing at Imogen and there was something in her eyes that made Dorothy’s heart break.
She never should have done this. Sara was right. But it couldn’t be undone now. All they could do was get through it.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Friendly, Imogen extended her hand to Sara who somehow roused herself enough to shake it.
“I hope you’re settling in to Holly Cottage.”
“It’s a beautiful place.”
“Do you have a tree yet?” Ava was oblivious to any tension in the room.
“A tree?”
“A Christmas tree.”
“Oh—no.” Imogen looked uncomfortable. “I don’t usually bother.”
“You never have a tree? Why not?” Ava’s appalled expression would have made Dorothy laugh in different circumstances, but she’d never felt less like laughing.
She was conscious of Sara hovering, white and tense, of Iris worrying about her mother, and Imogen awkward and unsure.
“I live alone. Just me.” She gave Ava an apologetic look. “It never seems worth it.”
Ava frowned. “But if you live alone you can do exactly what you want to do and not think about anyone else—” she gave her sister a look “—so I’d have ten trees and no one would be able to stop me.”
“Ten?” Imogen laughed. “You don’t think that’s too many?”
“No.” Ava looked suddenly excited. “We can choose you a tree when we get ours. We’re going tomorrow, aren’t we, Mummy? You could come too.”
Sara’s expression would have been comical if it hadn’t been so heartbreaking. “Let’s see how we all feel in the morning.”
Ava looked puzzled. “But—”
“Enough.” Iris hugged her. “Mummy has a headache. You need to stop talking for five minutes.” She gave Imogen an apologetic look. “She’s excited because it’s our Christmas party this afternoon.”
“A party? That does sound fun.” Imogen smiled and glanced at Dorothy. “It’s kind of you to invite me to your family lunch. I hope I’m not intruding?”
“We’re delighted to have you. But Sara was just—”
“Going to peel the carrots.” Sara pulled herself together and reached for the bag she’d bought with her. “Anything else you’d like me to do, Mum?”
Dorothy felt a rush of gratitude and admiration. Sara was going to stick with it.
The sense of relief was enormous.
“No. Everything else is in hand.” Maybe this wouldn’t be awkward after all. A simple lunch. They’d make Imogen welcome and that would be it.
Iris looked at Sara, puzzled. “But you have a headache.”
“It’s a little better, thank you.” Sara kissed Iris on top of her head. “We’ll stay for a while.”
“You should drink a large glass of water. I’ll fetch you one.” Iris fetched her mother a glass of water and watched her drink it.
“I want to see Benson,” Ava said. “I drew him a picture. And I want to tell him about the party later. Santa might be there, but he might not be the real Santa because he’s busy. I’m going to wear my new dress, but I’m not wearing it now in case I make it dirty.”
“We can’t see Benson. I have to help Nanna with lunch.” Having dutifully drunk the water, Sara was rapidly peeling and chopping carrots.
“I could take her,” Iris said. “She can show Benson her ballet.”
Ava beamed at Imogen. “You could come too. You’ll like Benson. He’s friendly.”
“I’m looking forward to seeing him,” Imogen said.
“We can go right now!” Ava’s eyes were round. “Can we go, Nanna, please ?” She grabbed some of the chopped carrots and pushed them into her pocket. “He loves carrots, but they have to be chopped small or he chokes. You can have some too. Then he’ll like you right away.” She grabbed a few more carrots and thrust them at Imogen.
Imogen looked startled, but then took the carrots with a smile. “Thank you. And for the useful information.”
“Benson will be eating more carrots than we are,” Sara said mildly, but she chopped an extra one and pushed the pieces across to her daughter. The rest she transferred into the oven tray with the parsnips Dorothy had already prepared.
“Why don’t we all go for a quick walk before lunch? The food will be fine for a short time.” Dorothy decided that a distraction would be good for all of them. “Has it stopped snowing?”
Iris looked out of the window. “It’s not snowing, but it looks cold. Will that make your headache worse, Mummy?”
“It will be fine, I’m sure.” Sara wiped her hands. “I think it’s a good idea.”
“We’ll all wrap up,” Dorothy said briskly. “It will be good to show Imogen around a little. I can point out that path across the fields to the village so that you know where you’re going when you explore.”
And maybe visiting the animals might be good for Imogen. Dorothy always found them to be an excellent cure for a low mood. And even if Imogen didn’t feel the same way, it would make conversation easier for Sara.
And there was Ava, of course. It was hard for anyone to be reserved or awkward around Ava.
She checked that everything was in order with the lunch, and then they pulled on coats and boots and ventured outside.
Snow blanketed the fields and clung to trees and hedges. Soon the ground would be stamped with footprints, but for now it glittered, pristine and untouched.
After the fresh fall of snow the air was cold and crisp. It made eyes water and cheeks turn pink, but Ava didn’t care as she skipped happily toward the field where the alpacas lived, tugging Imogen by the hand as if she’d known her for her whole life and not just five minutes.
“They have a shed to live in for when it’s really cold, but they like being outdoors too, and they have fur so it’s like wearing a coat the whole time.” Ava clambered onto the first bar of the gate and called across the field. “Benson!” Her high-pitched voice carried through the air and all the alpacas immediately headed for the gate.
“The big brown one is Benson. Isn’t he lovely?” Ava poked her little arm through the bars of the gate, and Iris approached.
“Be gentle, Ava.”
“I’m gentle. He’s very friendly,” Ava told Imogen, “and in the summer we take him for walks. When I grow up I’m going to have a hundred alpacas.”
“A hundred alpacas and ten Christmas trees.” After the initial shock of having carrots thrust at her, Imogen seemed smitten with the little girl. “You’re going to need a big garden for that.”
“I’m going to live in the country like Nanna.” She climbed a few more bars of the gate and reached out to Benson, who nudged her with his nose.
“He obviously likes you a lot.” Imogen placed a steadying hand on Ava’s back as she wobbled on the gate.
The protective gesture brought a lump to Dorothy’s throat. She felt a rush of emotion and she caught Sara’s eye.
She didn’t know what her daughter was thinking, but she had a good idea.
Ava was holding Imogen’s hand and Dorothy felt a warm glow as she listened to Imogen engaging her in conversation.
“Do you have a favorite alpaca?”
Ava shook her head hard. “I love them all the same. If I had a favorite, that might make the others sad.”
“Are they related to each other?”
“Basil and Sage are brothers. That’s Basil.” Ava pointed to the cream alpaca at the back of the herd. “The other brown one is Sage, then there’s Dill and Pepper. Pepper is short for Peppermint. They’re all named after herbs except for Benson.”
Imogen studied the alpacas. “Can they jump out?”
Dorothy joined them. “They’ve never tried. Miles, our vet, tells me they’re rather reluctant jumpers. Either way, I’ve never seen them bother the fence at all.”
“What about foxes?”
“Oh, they see off foxes.” Dorothy rubbed Benson’s neck gently. “They work as a team. They make quite a din. But we try and keep away animals that could spread bovine tuberculosis, like badgers.”
Imogen gave Benson a tentative stroke. “They have such thick coats.”
“Yes. And that can conceal problems, so we watch out for that. They were in a terrible state when they arrived with me, although not Benson. He was well cared for.”
“What happened with Benson?”
“He was one of three, but the other two sadly died. Alpacas don’t like to be alone. They’re herd animals,” Dorothy told her. “Miles tells me they should never be kept in herds of less than three, which is why he asked if I’d take him.”
“I’m a herd animal,” Ava said. “I have a sister. We’re fine being a two. We don’t need to be three. Do you have a sister, Imogen?”
“No. It’s just me,” Imogen said. “I’m an only child.”
“What’s an only child?”
“It means my mother only had one child and no more. I don’t have brothers or sisters.”
Ava wrinkled her nose. “I suppose you have to find yourself a herd, like the alpacas.” She fed Benson a carrot. “My mummy had a sister, but she went away, so she’s an only child too now.”
“Ava!” Sara’s face was as pale as her surroundings. “That’s enough.”
“I was just saying—”
“Ava, stop,” Iris said quickly, “you know Mummy doesn’t like to talk about that.”
“I know. Because it makes her sad. But she has us, and Daddy, so she’s not sad now. We’re her herd.” Ava jumped off the gate and tugged at Imogen. “Come and see our pony, Thelma.” Oblivious to the tense atmosphere, she skipped through the snow toward the stables.
Dorothy put her hand on Sara’s arm, but her daughter shook her off and walked quickly after Ava.
Dorothy watched in despair. Ava was too young to know what to say and what to keep back. This wasn’t Ava’s fault, it was hers. Sara was right. She never should have invited Imogen. She’d stirred up a hornet’s nest and that was not a good thing.
Iris, sensitive to everyone’s moods, looked unhappy. “Shall we have lunch, Nanna?”
“Lunch?” Dorothy dragged her gaze from Sara’s stiff shoulders to her granddaughter’s worried eyes. “Good idea. Let’s do that.”
Iris followed her mother and sister, picking her way carefully so that she didn’t slip.
Ava was stroking Thelma, having seemingly forgotten the conversation about siblings.
“It’s time for lunch,” Dorothy said. “You need to come in and wash your hands, Ava.”
“Iris needs to wash hers too.” Ava gave Thelma a final pat and they all headed back to the house.
“I had no idea you had so many animals,” Imogen said. She looked flushed and happy as she glanced back at the pony. “This is a beautiful place.”
“I’ll show you around the vineyard at some point,” Dorothy said. She’d be able to make that a purely professional trip. “It would be interesting for you, particularly as you’ve been working on our products for so long.”
“I’d like that.”
Back in the kitchen they savored the warmth and the delicious smells of cooking.
The girls washed their hands, supervised by a subdued Sara, while Dorothy busied herself putting the finishing touches to the lunch.
“Five-minute warning. Wash your hands, girls. Imogen, there’s a cloakroom right across the hallway if you need it. The towel is clean.”
Imogen vanished and Dorothy put the chicken in the center of the table, followed by dishes of roasted vegetables and potatoes.
Sara looked exhausted, and Dorothy felt guilty because she knew she was the cause of it.
Once lunch was over, she’d take Imogen back to Holly Cottage and that would be it. She’d give her a phone number in case of emergencies. Other than that, she’d be leaving Imogen alone.
“That looks yummy.” Ava knelt on her chair, and Sara gestured to her to sit properly.
Dorothy pulled the warm plates out of the oven, while Iris and Sara finished laying the table.
There was no sign of Imogen.
Dorothy glanced toward the door, hoping she was all right.
She was about to carve when the cloakroom door finally opened and Imogen appeared.
She looked ashen.
Concerned, Dorothy immediately put the knife down. “Whatever is the matter, dear? Are you feeling unwell?”
“The pictures on the wall of the cloakroom—”
Pictures? “You mean the family photos?”
“Did you see the one of me with Benson?” Ava plopped a roast potato onto her plate. “I like that one, and the one of Bailey in the snow. He looks so funny covered in white. Like a snow monster.”
And suddenly Dorothy knew. She knew why Imogen was looking so shocked.
Her stomach lurched.
“Imogen—”
“I can see that they’re family photos,” Imogen said, “but what I don’t understand is why there is a photo of my mother on the wall?”
Dorothy felt her heart skip, and for a moment she thought it might stop altogether.
Why hadn’t she thought of that? Photos. They were everywhere, and such an important part of her life that she never questioned their presence.
Sara stood up quickly, and for a moment Dorothy thought she was going to walk out and leave Dorothy to deal with this crisis. And she wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. Sara had warned her. Sara had thought it was a bad idea right from the start. And she was right.
But Sara didn’t leave. Instead, she beckoned to the children. “Girls, I’d like you to go and watch TV for a few minutes.”
Ava held tightly to her plate. “But we’re having chicken.”
“Lunch will be a little bit later.”
“But—”
“Iris, could you take your sister for me, please?”
Iris looked confused, but nodded and took Ava’s hand. “Come on. We’ll watch cartoons.”
“I’m hungry. And we’re not allowed to watch cartoons in the middle of the day.”
“Today we are. Special treat. And we’ll eat in a minute.” Iris coaxed her sister out of the room and once the door closed behind them, Dorothy pulled out a chair.
“Come and sit down, Imogen.”
“I’m fine right here.” Imogen stood without moving. “There were four people in that photo. My mother, a younger girl and an older couple, a woman and a man. You’re the woman.”
Dorothy wished she could rewind the clock and do things differently. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time in her life that she’d felt that way. “Yes, I am. And this is my fault. I should have said something before now, but it’s complicated.”
“You’re the younger girl.” Imogen turned to look at Sara.
“Yes.” Sara held her gaze without flinching. “Tina was my older sister.”
“Sister.” Imogen rubbed her fingers across her forehead. Her hand was shaking. “She asked for her sister. I told everyone she didn’t have a sister.” She seemed almost to be talking to herself.
Dorothy forced herself to speak. “Tina is my daughter. My eldest daughter.”
Imogen was breathing rapidly. “So that makes you my grandmother.”
Had there ever been a more awkward moment?
“Yes.” Dorothy felt pressure in her chest. Terror, anticipation, but also relief because the moment that had been hovering in her future was finally here. “I’m your grandmother. I hadn’t intended for you to find out this way, obviously, but—well, maybe it’s a good thing. There was no easy way. And now it’s out in the open I really hope we can get to know each other.” The words felt so inadequate and far too small for the hugeness of the moment.
“My grandmother.” Imogen’s tone was flat. “We’ve worked together for almost two years. We’ve sat in meetings together, run an event, had lunch—and you never once said anything? Why? You obviously knew who I was the whole time.”
“Not immediately, but it didn’t take long for me to figure it out.” And she had so many regrets. The whole situation was such a mess she couldn’t see how they were ever going to unravel it, but if there was to be any chance of a future relationship it had to be based on a foundation of truth.
“That’s why you gave us the business.”
“No.” It hadn’t occurred to her that Imogen might think that. “I gave you the business because you are the best at what you do. When you moved to RPQ, I wanted us to continue working together. I’m proud of you, Imogen.”
Confusion and pain flickered across Imogen’s face. “Proud? Why would you be proud? I’m nothing to do with you. You didn’t want me in your life. Anything I am, anything I’ve done or achieved , is despite you, not because of you.” Her eyes shone with hurt, but there was also determination there, and Dorothy saw that whatever vulnerability she had, she also had a core of steel. If she hadn’t been so worried, she might have been impressed and a little in awe.
“You’re upset, and I can understand that—”
“Upset? Yes, I’m upset, but mostly I’m angry. You lied to me.”
“I didn’t exactly lie, but it’s true there are many things I haven’t told you and there are reasons for that. Good reasons.” Dorothy felt sick and shaky. She pulled out a chair and sank onto it for support, ignoring Sara’s quick look of concern. “It’s complicated, Imogen. If you sit down, I’ll tell you everything and I will answer any questions you have.”
“What questions would I have? I already know everything I need to know. You abandoned my mother.” Imogen’s voice broke. “You were her family, her only family, and you threw her out when she needed you most. Families are supposed to stick together no matter how hard it gets, but you left us to struggle. And I’m sure it wasn’t an easy situation, but even if you didn’t like what she was doing you should still have loved her and made it clear that you loved her. She had no one . We had no one. You’re the reason she is the way she is! You’re the reason she has always been incapable of forming a proper relationship with anyone, including me.”
Dorothy felt as if she’d been punched. The shock of it made it hard to breathe. Whatever reaction she’d expected, it wasn’t this. Or maybe she’d been ridiculously hopeful. Naive. “Imogen, sweetheart—”
“I’m not your sweetheart. You made up your mind about that a long time ago.” She turned to Sara. “And I always thought it was a little odd that we’d never met, but now I understand. You were purposely avoiding me. You didn’t want anything to do with me, did you?”
Sara was white. “Imogen—”
“I have no idea what’s going on. I have no idea why I’m here now, what exactly has changed, but I’m not interested in being part of your bizarre social experiment. It’s too late. You weren’t there when my mother needed you, when I needed you, and I certainly don’t need you now. I’ll pack my things and leave, and you can call Rosalind to discuss any business issues, if you’re even interested in that side of things.” Imogen snatched up her coat and ran to the front door, narrowly avoiding Bailey, who was on the hunt for food.
Dorothy opened her mouth to say something that might stop her leaving, but all that emerged was a feeble croak.
Silenced by all the terrible accusations that Imogen had thrown at her, she couldn’t find any words.
Where should she start? What could she say or do to make this better?
By the time she was finally able to make her voice carry sufficiently to be heard, it was too late.
The front door slammed, the sound echoing through the house.
Imogen had gone.