Chapter Nine
Clara
Clara held her hand in front of her face, shielding her eyes from the bright glare of the spring sun slicing through the trees.
Her head throbbed. Thirty-four, and she really couldn’t hold her liquor.
The night out had been a great escape, however.
Just the tonic she needed after the bad news during the week and the tension of the inspection.
Slumping on the bench outside her cottage – one in a row of four – she watched as Skye sniffed enthusiastically at the cute picket fence surrounding the small front garden.
Clara had grown to enjoy weekends with Skye, relaxing or shopping, but she didn’t want to be alone this weekend.
If she stopped and let the dust settle, her mind would dwell on the diagnosis.
So, she’d invited her sister, Harriet, and her niece to join her for the day.
Glenvorneth was a rambling and beautiful estate with a stable yard and many paths.
They could spend some time exploring then Clara would make them some lunch.
Skye barked as a car trundled up the driveway, and Clara stifled a yawn. ‘Hush, Skye.’ Everything was too loud this morning.
Harriet got out with a wave, then opened the back door for her little daughter Molly, who jumped out and skipped, laughing, up to the gate, her twin ponytails swinging. Clara managed a smile, though it made her head ache a little more. How do kids have so much energy all the time?
‘Auntie Clara!’ Molly shouted. ‘And Skye.’
Skye scrabbled up at the gate, and Molly tried to lean over and pat her.
‘Hey, trouble.’ Clara opened the gate and bent down for a hug, trying not to wince as her niece launched herself at her. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine.’
Skye had bounded up to Harriet, who was chivvying her back into the garden.
‘That’s a nice top,’ Clara said, looking at her sister’s pretty green and white scoop-necked blouse.
‘This old thing?’ Harriet glanced down at it, her brown bobbed hair falling forward like a curtain.
‘Are we walking her now?’ Molly asked. ‘Can I hold her lead?’
‘Yeah, just take care. She sometimes tugs when she’s over excited.’
Clara gave Harriet a quick hug, fetched Skye’s pink lead and handed it over to Molly.
‘How are you feeling?’ Harriet gave her a look as they headed onto the path. Clara had already messaged her the grim news. And while she didn’t want to brood on it alone, talking was different. Good even.
‘Trying not to think about it too much. It’s not like I can do anything.’
Harriet patted her arm gently. ‘I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference to every day life.’
‘Exactly… just to my future. Or potential future. Not that I’ve done a great job with relationships since Fergus.’
A snorting sound came from Harriet. ‘Don’t even mention him. “Football-First Fergie”. He doesn’t deserve to be mentioned. I can’t believe the way he treated you.’
Clara nodded. Even now, she tried not to think too badly of him – there had been good times too – but there was no denying how selfish he’d been.
‘But Clara…’ Harriet frowned slightly. ‘I don’t want to be a preaching sister telling you stuff you already know, but…’ She held out her hands. ‘Not all guys are like him.’
‘I know.’ Clara rubbed her temples. ‘But I feel… faulty.’
Harriet sighed, putting her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. ‘I understand that. But someone who really likes you will want to work with you, not against you.’
‘But what if it’s someone who really wants kids?’
‘Worry about that if it happens. There might be other options… like adopting.’
‘I guess.’ Her head swam with it all. Without actually being in a relationship, she couldn’t know what a partner would want. But her mind was skewed, because of football-first Fergie, and the pain of knowing the kind of reaction she would have had from him.
Harriet gave her a bracing side hug as they watched Molly skipping along the path ahead with Skye, her yellow floral top dazzling and her ponytails swinging.
‘You look bleary-eyed like you’ve not been sleeping properly,’ Harriet observed.
‘That’s not lack of sleep. We had our end-of-inspection celebration night out yesterday. It was fun. Too much fun, evidently. I’ll be paying for it all day, if my head has anything to say about it.’
Harriet laughed. ‘You guys sure know how to party hard. You’re worse than the students.’
‘Probably true.’ Clara squinted at Molly, who had bent over Skye to talk to her; the little toy poodle’s tail wagged happily. ‘It’s nice to get out for some air.’
‘This place is gorgeous.’ Harriet glanced around. ‘I heard they do riding lessons. Maybe when Molly’s a bit bigger, she could have one, though it’s quite a drive from Perth.’
‘You should move out here too. It’s such a gorgeous place to live.’
They carried on along the track, up a hill towards the stables. Clara let out a slow sigh and nudged a pebble down the slope, watching it skitter away. Her mind, unhelpfully, replayed fragments of the previous evening – the warmth of the room, the laughter, and then her own mortifying nonsense.
Sam had been so gentle, so steady, but had she made a fool of herself? Something about him was just so… safe. Solid and soft at the same time. Her tipsy brain hadn’t stood a chance. God, I must’ve looked pathetic.
‘Can we go right up to the stables?’ Harriet’s voice sliced through the internal cringe-fest.
Clara blinked and looked up. ‘Yeah, sure. There’s a nice woman called Dagmar who works there.
And I’ve even met Ophelia Chattan-Blythe, the owner of this estate.
She’s actually really nice, though she looks quite intimidating.
’ Clara pointed ahead. ‘You can walk around here, and we can join the bridle path after that.’
A delighted squeal rang out as Molly darted towards a puddle, following Skye’s bounding paws. The dog splashed through it, sending droplets flying, leaving a trail of muddy prints across the pale track.
‘Molly, make sure you hold on,’ Harriet called, her voice edged with concern.
‘It’s ok,’ Clara said. ‘Skye’s a good girl. She won’t run off. She knows to stick close to safe people.’
The words hung there for a moment, and something fluttered in her chest – a tiny tremor of truth. Safe people. That was what she’d done too: gravitated towards calm, steady ground. Was that why she clung to Sam?
Lissa’s teasing about them pretending to be married had just been her nonsense, but now it echoed differently. He’s like a safety net, she thought, and the realisation both comforted and unnerved her.
She’d needed him this week more than she wanted to admit.
Without him, everything felt off balance.
Was that stupid? Maybe. She’d been single since football-first Fergie, and she didn’t completely hate it.
Loving Kerr from afar had filled her dreams, but now she was glad it had gone nowhere.
For his sake. He was a nice guy, but he wasn’t for her.
Was anyone?
The path dipped again, muddy and uneven, twisting down towards the stables. Clara pulled her coat tighter. Ahead, Molly was still laughing, Skye still dancing. But everything looked a little blurred, a little uncertain – like her future, winding ahead in turns she couldn’t quite see.
With the inspectors finally gone, the school seemed to exhale.
Laughter drifted more easily down the corridors, the staffroom buzzed with relief, and even Gil's smart shoes clicked with a lighter rhythm.
Although there were still three weeks left of the term until the Easter holidays, it felt more like the countdown to the summer holidays.
Clara wasn’t immune. Every time she caught herself daydreaming about lie-ins and walks with Skye, she had to mentally yank herself back to the stack of work still waiting. Adele, meanwhile, was hanging by a thread – the latest drama with Max Lyndell chewed at her patience.
So when Clara rounded the corner on Monday morning of the last week of term and saw Max and his father waiting outside her office, she winced. Oh no. Not again.
Adele emerged from her own office at that exact moment and stopped dead. Her gaze locked on Mr Lyndell, who turned towards her with a faintly challenging set to his jaw. For a beat, the air between them seemed to hum.
Clara froze mid-step, and Mr Lyndell looked at her with the flicker of a smile.
‘Good morning,’ Adele said. ‘What can I do for you?’
Mr Lyndell raised an eyebrow. ‘Get him into class,’ he muttered.
‘Hey Max,’ Clara said to him. ‘You ok?’
Max shrugged, eyes downcast, while his dad cleared his throat. ‘We need to discuss his English teacher, Mr Emery. He’s not too thrilled about going to his class again.’
‘Why not?’ Adele folded her arms.
Clara peered at Max. ‘How about I walk you there? I’ll speak to Mr Emery if you like, and I’m sure we can sort things out.
’ She smiled, fully expecting his usual huffing, so when he nodded without a hint of protest, she was taken aback.
‘Great.’ She risked a quick glance back as they set off and caught Mr Lyndell standing up and muttering something to Adele, who had her arms folded tight across her chest.
As they reached the staircase, she turned to Max. ‘So, what is it about Mr Emery that’s bothering you today? He’s a good guy, you know. Really fair.’
Max shrugged again. ‘Dunno,’ he muttered after a pause. ‘I just don’t like him.’
Clara raised her eyebrows. ‘Sometimes we have personality clashes with people in life, but you had your restoration meeting, and you agreed to go back to class.’
Max shook his head, looking a bit red cheeked. ‘Whatever.’
They reached the classroom door, and Clara stood by. ‘Let’s see how it goes today. And if things still don’t feel right, we’ll get another meeting sorted.’
‘Yeah, ok.’ Max gave her a quick nod before heading in.
Clara approached Isaac, and he stepped aside to speak to her.
‘What’s up with him today?’ he asked.
‘I’m not sure, but he came up quite willingly, so let’s hope it’s just a flash in the pan.’