‘I don’t even like our house,’ she said. ‘So I’m not sure why I want to extend it.’ She looked up, her eyes focused over Peg’s shoulder. ‘Don’t ever change your cottage, will you? It’s perfect just the way it is.’ She examined a fingernail. ‘And I don’t suppose you believe me – why would you? But it’s true. I’d love a home like this. With some character, and a kitchen garden…you’ve made it all so beautiful.’
Peg couldn’t be more surprised. ‘I’m not sure I ever really thought about how to decorate the cottage, it just kind of evolved over the years. I do love it though.’
‘It suits you,’ replied Sofia. ‘Or you suit it. I don’t think our house does that.’
‘It’s very different to mine, admittedly, but it’s still very nice.’ She bit her lip, hoping that Sofia wouldn’t notice her little white lie. ‘Why don’t you like it?’ Peg wasn’t sure why the conversation had changed direction, but at least Sofia was talking again.
‘Because I try to make it one thing, and then I change it and make it something else, but no matter what I do, it never looks right. Maybe because it’s a house and not ahome…’
‘Perhaps you haven’t worked out yet who you want to be,’ replied Peg. ‘And that can take a long time – some people never manage it. You’re still young. You’re experimenting with life, trying on different hats, but eventually you’ll find one which not only looks good, but is comfortable too.’
Sofia sat silently, staring at the table, and Peg wondered whether she had gone too far. Perhaps she sounded critical; she hadn’t intended to be.
‘I think we all go through a stage like that,’ she added. ‘And it wasn’t something I realised about myself until the girls were at school. Before that, life was so busy I never really thought about who I was, or what I wanted, I just went with the flow. I wasn’t unhappy, but, looking back, I certainly wasn’t settled either. I think half the battle is having the headspace to figure all that out.’ She tipped her head to one side, studying Sofia’s expression. ‘So what is it about my cottage that appeals to you?’
‘All of it.’
‘What, the draughty windows and the dodgy plumbing? And the mud which tracks in endlessly no matter what I do to keep it out?’
Sofia smiled, but it was tinged with sadness. ‘Maybe it’s not the cottage itself, but the person I could be if I lived here.’
‘And who would that be?’
‘Someone who doesn’t care if the walls are plastered in children’s drawings, or the kitchen table has crayon on it. Someone who walks around barefoot, wearing jeans and a teeshirt. Someone who hangs washing on the line every day just to hear it flapping in the wind, or who brings in flowers from the garden to stick in a jam jar. Someone who bakes wonky cakes and doesn’t care that she fishes honey out of the pot with a knife and not a spoon…’
Peg swallowed, alarmed to see tears welling again in Sofia’s eyes. The person Sofia described couldn’t be more different from the one sitting opposite her, and Peg’s heart ached at the young woman’s sadness. Did Adam know that she felt this way? Did Blanche? Did anyone? Surely Sofia must have friends to talk to. And as Peg sat there wondering how on earth she could respond, what on earth she could say to make Sofia feel better, she also thought about the words she’d actually used. Sofia wasn’t just unhappy with who she was, she knewexactlywho she wanted to be. And top of the list was someone whose walls were plastered in children’s drawings. Suddenly, a lot of things began to make sense.
‘How long have you been trying?’ she asked quietly.
‘Three years…’ The first tear tipped from the corner of Sofia’s eye and made its way down her cheek.
‘And when it didn’t happen, you threw yourself into making your home bigger and better than it needed to be. You threw yourself into making your business such a success that you’d never be able to take a break from it, even if you wanted to. You threw yourself into finding anything and everything which might make you happy. And Adam…threw himself into his career, chasing management roles which would take him away from the children he had gone into teaching for in the first place. Oh Sofia…’ Peg placed her hand over Sofia’s, feeling the tremble in her thin arm. ‘There’s nothing I can say to make any of it better. Nothing I can do either, except give you a hug, if you think one might help?’
Wordlessly, but with a minute nod, Sofia rose and allowed Peg to come around the table to comfort her, and as she did so, her arms around Sofia’s shaking shoulders, Peg could suddenly see a tiny glimmer of hope. If life had taught her anything it was that there was always one to be found, and that they often appeared right when you least expected them.
Gently, she drew away and let Sofia sink back into her chair. ‘You know, if you’re worried that Adam’s redundancy might mean things will have to change, maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Sometimes, all we feel is the loss when something is taken away from us, when really it’s an opportunity for something else to arrive.’ And the thought which filled Peg’s head was that she couldn’t be sure she was still talking about Sofia.
‘Does Henry know about any of this? Or Blanche?’
Sofia nodded. ‘Henry does. Adam told him yesterday.’ She swallowed. ‘That’s why I thought I’d come over. I just wanted to talk to someone whoknew…I can’t tell Mum stuff like this – she thinks our life is ludicrous, I know she does. Well, she thinks I’m ludicrous, for doing what I do, for wanting things to be better.’
‘She might…’ conceded Peg, knowing full well this was true. ‘But I’m also certain that if she knew any of what you’ve just told me, she’d understand the reasons for your behaviour. She’s your mum, she knows you better than anyone, and she’ll already know that something hasn’t been right for a while. Trust me, she will. You just need to find a way to open up to her, same with Henry.’
‘But how do I do that when he doesn’t even like me?’
Peg shook her head sadly. ‘You know, he’d hate the fact that you’ve never shared any of this with him before. He probably doesn’t feel he knows you all that well, and that’s because, by holding it back from him, you’ve held yourself back too. Sometimes you have to let a person see who you really are, and that bond of trust – allowing someone to see the real you,with all your faults and failures as well as your strengths and successes – that’s how you become close. I think if you share how you’re feeling with Henry, he’ll be a lot more understanding than you give him credit for. Same with your mum.’ She smiled.
‘And if you think about it, Henry is in a very similar situation to you and Adam. He’s having to take stock of a few things and put some changes into place. He might be moving towards living a different kind of life, but that doesn’t mean it will be a bad one. It might even turn out to be much better.’ She studied Sofia’s face, at least the small part of it she could see. ‘You know, this is an opportunity for all of you to think about what you really want from your lives. If all the balls are being thrown up in the air then you need to make sure you know which ones to catch.’
Sofia lifted her head from her hands, staring at Peg. And almost immediately her eyes began to well up. ‘I don’t think you understand,’ she said, a flash of anger crossing her face. ‘I make cushion covers,’ she added. ‘Cushion covers and curtains, and that’s pretty much it.’
It was Peg’s turn to stare. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘The rest of my business doesn’t really exist. It’s just me trying to pretend that I’m a successful interior designer. Throwing loads of money at it in an attempt to gain some high-profile clients which, by the way, includes broadcasting every detail about our Instagram-perfect lives in an effort to convince people that’s what they want too. And what they can have, if they would only give me full rein over their bank balance. But it doesn’t work, so in the end I make cushion covers. And curtains.’ She swallowed, the tilt to her chin a little defiant.
Peg glanced up at her window. ‘Did you make the curtains in your house?’ she asked. ‘The incredible set in your big bay window which I remember thinking must have cost you a fortune?’
Sofia nodded. ‘I’ve made all the curtains in our house. Plus the blinds, the covers for the sofa and the drapes in our bedroom, too. Although, of course, you haven’t seen those.’
