Chapter 10
Chapter ten
Claire
On Thursday Claire set her alarm for and slept on her bad ear so she would hear it. She felt cautiously optimistic as she dressed, buoyed by the cup of tea she’d had with Lucy and Juliet Bagshaw yesterday afternoon.
There had been something so pleasant and welcoming about their kitchen, with its green Aga and a jar of early daffodils on the windowsill and the B her parents had never been walkers, and when she was a teenager she’d always gone with the Wyndham girls into Whitehaven, to pursue the more alluring pleasures of the town’s dodgy nightclubs.
She would have preferred to go to the beach, but she’d never gone against the crowd.
It annoyed her now, how little backbone she’d had.
How little she still had, if she was honest with herself.
She’d done everything everyone had asked of her, even gone into a clinic to dry out when she was pretty sure she didn’t actually have a drinking problem.
The trouble was, after so many years of obeying other people while you doubted yourself, Claire wasn’t sure she knew how to be different.
She definitely didn’t think she had the strength.
But coming back to Cumbria had been a strong decision, even if it looked from the outside like merely running home.
She just hoped she could keep at it. She knew the pressure from her parents would only get worse.
Her mother was too used to managing her to stop now, and Claire was used to being managed.
Not having someone arranging her movements, telling her what to do and even what to think, felt like dangling in midair, feet kicking uselessly.
It was only as she took these first few tentative steps that she realized there might actually be a foundation beneath her feet, even if she didn’t know how strong or safe it was.
With a start Claire realized she’d spent ten minutes staring into space, half a jam sandwich dangling from her fingertips. She stuffed the bright box with its kiddie contents into the bin and hurried up the beach road, back to the shop.
She was late. Of course. Dan glowered at her but didn’t say anything, and then pointed to the till. “You can manage that while I do the post office. There’s usually a rush after lunch.”
There hadn’t been yesterday, but obediently Claire went behind the till.
She rang up four purchases in three hours, when Dan took over the mad rush of pupils from the primary.
This time she managed to tap a bit more firmly on the shoulder of a boisterous-looking lad who had been trying to put a cherry bootlace in the pocket of his trousers, and he grinned sheepishly before putting it back. Progress.
Lucy came in just as she had before, after the children had left, as cheery as ever.
“Oh, Claire, I’m glad I caught you. Rachel’s backed out of the pub quiz tonight, and so we’re desperate for a fourth. You wouldn’t mind coming, would you?”
“Oh . . . no, I suppose not.” Actually, she would mind. She couldn’t think of anything worse than facing the loud scrum of the pub on quiz night, as well as twenty questions she knew she wouldn’t be able to answer. “Why did Rachel back out?”
“She’s not feeling well. Which means she must really not be feeling well, because Rachel never misses a quiz. But you’ll come?”
“Well, I . . .” Dread seeped into Claire’s stomach.
Abby and Lucy and even Juliet were friendly, but the whole experience was an endurance test. The crowds, the noise, the feeling of ignorance and then the awkwardness at only drinking water while everyone was swilling wine.
Although, actually, she’d like a glass of wine. “I suppose . . .”
“Great—”
“Can’t you tell she doesn’t want to go?”
Both Lucy and Claire turned in astonishment to see Dan leaning over the counter, scowling as usual, although this time it was at Lucy. “Stop pestering her. She said no yesterday and she’s trying to say it today.”
“Oh.” Lucy’s face crumpled a bit, and Claire felt a rush of sympathy.
“No, I don’t mind . . .” she began, unconvincingly.
“Oh, I didn’t realize,” Lucy said. “I’m sorry.” She turned to Claire with an uncertain smile. “I do rush on sometimes, I know, and I’m not always clued in to what’s really going on . . . but if you don’t want to go, you mustn’t. I mean, we can always find a fourth. I just thought…”
Claire was torn between appeasing a disappointed Lucy and taking the exit Dan had so surprisingly provided. In the end she chose to escape. “I’m sorry, I’m just not a party kind of person. But maybe something else, some other time, would be . . .” She trailed off, and Lucy nodded.
“Yes, of course. Sure. Brilliant.” She slapped a coin on the counter, waved at them both, and then hurried out of the shop.
Claire turned slowly to Dan. “Thank you,” she said. “I think?”
He arched an eyebrow, unsmiling. “What’s to think?”
“You might have just lost me my one friend in this village.”
“Lucy? That won’t put her off. But you should stick up for yourself. Learn to say no.”
“I know I should,” Claire said quietly. “But thank you for saying it for me.”
“Don’t expect me to again,” Dan said, and walked back towards the kitchen, no doubt to walk his dog. Claire watched him go, wondering if he did have a soft side like Lucy had said, or if he’d simply got tired of her waffling. Probably just tired.