Chapter 10 #2
‘Sounds like a good idea.’
‘I thought it would be nice to have a bit more time to show Mum around too,’ Zoe said, despite wishing right now she could send her mum home on the last train, as she’d hoped to all along.
It was telling that Cherie had packed an overnight bag just in case, even though they hadn’t really discussed her staying over.
‘Oh?’ Alex snapped a breadstick in half and munched on it. ‘Where are you thinking of going? You might visit another National Trust place? Do some walking or something?’
‘Well,’ Zoe replied, ‘you haven’t seen much of the village yet, have you, Mum?’
Cherie shook her head. ‘Not much, and it looked so pretty when we drove through to come here. Not very big, mind…’
‘It’s tiny,’ Alex agreed. ‘Lovely, but it won’t take you long to see it. Maybe go over to Bowness or Keswick or somewhere in the afternoon… that is, if you’re staying that long.’
‘My train is after lunch, so I don’t think there’ll be time for that.’ Cherie glanced at Zoe, who nodded.
‘Maybe next time,’ she said. ‘Now that you know what train you can catch, I expect you’ll come again.’
‘If you’re planning to stay after all, then I’ll have to, won’t I?’ Cherie said. She turned to Alex. ‘When she first moved away, she said it would only be for six months.’
‘I never said that, Mum…’ Zoe held back a frown. ‘I said it was a six-month trial period at the surgery and I couldn’t be sure they’d keep me. All jobs are like that. Most anyway. I was only saying that it wasn’t certain, and I couldn’t be sure I’d settle here.’
‘I suppose that’s all changed now you’re with Alex,’ Cherie said. It was hard to tell what she thought about that turn of events because her tone, while clipped, was giving nothing else away. There was definitely something accusatory in it, though, which Zoe decided to ignore.
‘Well’ – Zoe kept her own tone neutral – ‘as I’ve almost done my six months and the partners at the surgery seem to be happy and there’s enough work to keep me busy here, I’d say I am going to be staying.’
‘You won’t hear us complaining,’ Alex said cheerfully. ‘Me and Billie love having Zoe close by… don’t we, Bill?’
Billie turned from the oven. ‘Huh?’
‘I said we love having Zoe close by.’
‘Oh, yeah… Dad, come and see if you think this is done.’
‘You don’t usually ask my advice on cooking.’
‘I know, but I’m asking you now.’
He went over, and as she opened the oven they conversed in tones that were barely a whisper, instigated by Billie. Whatever they were discussing, it wasn’t the lasagne – that much was obvious to Zoe. She only hoped her mum wasn’t thinking the same.
‘It looks about ready,’ he announced in a louder voice after a minute or so. ‘Looks good too.’
‘Great!’ Zoe turned to her mum with a bright smile. ‘I don’t know about you, but all that walking around the grounds of Allan Bank has given me a right appetite!’
Alex and Billie had gone above and beyond to make Cherie’s visit as pleasant as possible, and Zoe loved them for it.
If there was any sign of her mood darkening, Alex would instigate a cheery change of topic, or Billie would bring out something new to eat or drink and start a conversation about it, and Zoe had to wonder if they’d discussed their tactics beforehand and planned it all.
By the time they’d waved goodnight to the residents of Hilltop Farm, Zoe’s mum had been won over.
It was a small victory, but Zoe would take them every time.
It was certainly one less obstacle in the way, though there were plenty more to come – far bigger ones.
The following day, Zoe was to run headlong into one of them as she showed her mum around the village.
She’d reiterated what they’d all said the evening before, that there wasn’t a huge amount to see, and after they’d been up and down the high street and stopped for a chat with Magnus and Geoff, where Cherie picked up some chocolates to take to Ottilie (despite Zoe’s warning the night before that they shouldn’t crowd Ottilie while she was recovering from her difficult birth), Zoe declared the tour complete.
‘What about the little church I saw yesterday?’ Cherie asked.
‘It’s Sunday,’ Zoe replied, her heart sinking.
‘And?’
‘They’ll have a service on, I expect.’
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t go and look. I’m not so much of a heathen I’ll combust as soon as I set foot onto its hallowed ground. We might as well go and see it before we call on Ottilie. I like a good old graveyard – they’re interesting.’
‘But…’
Zoe couldn’t think of a decent excuse that wouldn’t make her mum wonder why she needed one.
She was hardly religious at all, but she felt like uttering a little prayer now.
If He could just see His way to keeping the vicar inside until her mum had seen all the gravestones of people she’d never known but seemed determined to examine, she’d consider that a debt she’d work hard to repay.
Because if the vicar saw them, there was no way of telling what he might say about the possibility of Zoe’s dad and Chantal getting married at St Cuthbert’s.
‘Come on then…’ she said, leading her mum to the lane that would take them to Thimblebury’s ancient and quirky church. ‘But don’t complain if the churchyard is full of parishioners coming out of the service.’
‘Why would I complain?’
‘Because it might be hard to get around, and because if any of them know me, they’ll want to chat.’
‘Don’t you want to chat to them?’
‘Ordinarily I love to, but we’re on a time crunch, remember? We’ve got to fit a lot in before I take you to the train station.’
‘Only a visit to Ottilie.’
‘And I was going to show you that path along the river.’
‘Stop fussing – we’ll get to it all. I thought it was my job to nag, not yours.’
‘I’m not nagging, I—’
Zoe stopped dead. As the church came into view, she could see the vicar seeing off what looked like the last of his congregation. Before she had time to come up with some kind of diversion tactic, he glanced her way, noticed and then offered a cheery wave.
‘Good morning, Zoe! Or should I say, good afternoon? We’re almost there, aren’t we?’
Cherie took that as her cue to march across. ‘I’m Zoe’s mum. Are you the vicar here? Can we look inside the church now that everyone’s gone? I’ve heard all about the drama with Georgia’s baby; might as well see the scene of the crime, so to speak.’
‘Oh yes,’ he said with a quick grin. ‘That was a day I won’t forget in a hurry.
Zoe was marvellous. Cool, calm and collected – never seen anything quite like it.
We were all so impressed, some of my helpers said she ought to run for the council.
Come in… let me show you around. It’s not much, but it’s our spiritual home, and we’re very proud of it. ’
It was the most enthusiastic Zoe had seen her mum all day as she followed the vicar inside, barely a glance behind to see if Zoe was with them.
‘So you’re Zoe’s mum,’ he said as he opened the doors. ‘I wouldn’t have said you were old enough. I can see the resemblance, though. Same nose and eyes.’
‘It’s often said.’ Cherie flushed with pride at the compliment. ‘I think we look younger because we’re so petite.’
‘And because you obviously take great care of your appearance,’ he said.
Cherie chuckled. ‘I suppose that’s a bit sinful, isn’t it? Pride – isn’t that one of the seven sins?’
‘I don’t think it’s sinful at all – you’re simply looking after the gifts that God bestowed on you, and I don’t think there’s a problem with that. If anything, it’s showing gratitude for what you have.’
‘That’s an interesting way to put it…’ Cherie threw a sideways look at Zoe. ‘I’ll remember that next time I mention getting Botox and my daughter tells me what a terrible idea it is.’
‘I’ve never said it’s a terrible idea per se,’ Zoe replied wearily. ‘I said it was a terrible idea to go to that cut-price beauty salon down the road, which, as far as I can tell, has no proper qualification to do invasive treatments at all. But if you want cellulitis, then go ahead.’
‘The font’ – the vicar went over to stand by an unassuming stone basin, decorated with raised patterns that had worn smooth over many years – ‘was a gift from a German dignitary in the eighteenth century. I think it’s rather lovely myself.’
‘It’s so old!’ Cherie cooed as she went to look. ‘Zoe! Just think, when you have your first baby christened, this will be the perfect church!’
Zoe tried not to wince at her mother’s clumsy statement.
She’d forgotten about Zoe’s lost baby, or perhaps she hadn’t seen it as such a traumatic event as Zoe herself.
After all, as even Zoe herself had said on more than one occasion since she’d qualified as a midwife, losing babies was a fact of life.
It happened, and to some poor women it happened more than once, and that was just how it was.
But that was before Zoe herself had lost a child, and now she saw it very differently.
It was a fact of life, but that didn’t mean it was nothing.
For her, it was an event she’d never get over, no matter if she got pregnant again.
‘It’s funny you should say that,’ the vicar continued as he led them to the large, ornate cross standing at the back of the pulpit. ‘It seems that St Cuthbert’s is developing quite a connection to your family.’
‘Oh, the Georgia thing?’ Zoe said, more sharply than she’d meant to.
‘Yes, but she’s not strictly family, more an old family friend.
Ooh, what about this window? Mum, come and see this window here…
isn’t it beautiful? Look at the colours, that sun rising behind the hill… Vicar, is that a local landmark?’
‘I think it is,’ he said, coming to look. ‘I don’t remember exactly where, though. No, actually I was talking about your father and his upcoming—’ The vicar seemed to realise his faux pas and cut his sentence short, but it was too late.