‘She’s not what?’
‘You’ve never been overly close, Morgan. You said it yourself when we first got together.’ He went back over to the kitchen area.
‘We weren’t close when I was younger, no.’
‘Nor when you were at university or when you first started work.’
She bristled. Things changed. And she and her mum seemed to be doing all right these days. They weren’t the closest of mothers and daughters, but it had been enough and they were getting better every time they spoke. She felt the bond keenly now her mum had been so honest with her, sounded so vulnerable. ‘She’s my mum, Ronan. What would you do if it was one of your parents?’
He attended to the pot on the stove, gave the contents a stir and tasted what was inside before leaning against the benchtop, wineglass back in hand. ‘You’re right, I’m being unfair. It’s just that this job interview you had, it was promising, right?’
‘Very promising.’ She couldn’t disagree. She’d been freelancing for a while now and although she loved it, she’d interviewed for a position as a content editor for a media brand, an office position with a steady income that would be reassuring if they were setting up home together in a new city. And she really did want the job; the people sounded amazing, the role varied enough to capture her interest. There was a strong possibility that she’d be asked for a second interview, too. But did any of that matter if her mum needed her?
‘Ronan, I think this is something I might need to do. I’ll be with Mum, help out, keep looking at what help we can get her and then I can come to Edinburgh.’ And if her job opportunity completely fell through, then so be it.
‘Are you saying I should go before you do?’
‘Of course, you’ve got work lined up, I don’t want you to give that up, not for me and not for yourself.’ She went over to him and snuggled against his chest as he wrapped his free arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ‘The sale on this flat is underway so that’s sorted, we don’t have that to worry about. And this arrangement isn’t ideal, I admit, it’s not what we planned, but it’s the only solution short term.’
‘Why didn’t she ask Tegan to go home?’
Morgan pulled back. ‘Come on, that’s not practical. Tegan has the farm, she has kids.’
‘So because we don’t, we have to change our plans?’ He’d put his wineglass down none too gently and was pulling out bowls ready to serve the dinner.
‘Don’t be like that, Ronan.’
‘I’m not annoyed at you.’
‘But you’re annoyed she’s asked it of me?’ He said nothing. ‘You’re annoyed that Tegan isn’t the one to go back to Forget-Me-Not Cottage? Tell me, Ronan. I don’t have the energy for guessing games.’
He stopped midway through getting out the cutlery and dumped it on the benchtop. ‘It’s just I was looking forward to our fresh start, together.’
She took both of his hands in hers. ‘And it’ll happen, we just need to wait a while, that’s all.’
He sat down at the table again and pulled her onto his lap, nuzzling at her neck. ‘I’ll miss you.’
‘I know. Me too. But it won’t be forever.’
That night at the flat, she’d been too exhausted to ask herself how it had worked out that somehow she was comforting Ronan rather than the other way around. She’d told herself he was just gutted they weren’t forging ahead with their own plans. He’d gone to Scotland without her and she’d moved to Little Woodville as soon as the flat was sold. She’d missed him a lot but with her own freelance writing to keep up with and her mum the focus, she’d soon got into a new routine here in the village. She’d done whatever she could to help at Forget-Me-Not Cottage – jobs around the house, driving her mum to medical appointments, making sure Elaina was careful and safe in her cottage, running the market stall with her some weeks.
She’d made a few enquiries for cleaners, home help, but they hadn’t found many suitable candidates – either they were too pricey or they didn’t have any availability. And slowly what had been a life change and a bit of a burden had begun to be so much more for Morgan as she spent time with her mother and in the village. She and Elaina had begun to forge a new relationship, much better than ever before, and they’d enjoyed one another’s company. Her mother had become a precious gift she wasn’t ready to lose. She missed Ronan, she told him she was still midway through organising help for her mum, but in truth, she hadn’t been ready to leave it all behind and so she’d taken her time. And then her mum had died of a sudden heart attack, making the decision to leave and head up to Edinburgh an easy one. Or so she’d thought.
Full from her pancakes at the Bookshop Café, Morgan headed back to Forget-Me-Not Cottage, where she made up the bed for her sister, another for her nephew and set up the travel cot for her niece. And when her phone rang and she saw Ronan’s name and picture on the display, she felt guilty but she pressed decline. She’d call him later when she had time to chat for longer. But right now, she had too much to deal with.
Tegan had arrived absolutely shattered from the drive. She had dark circles under her eyes and after she’d put Morgan’s two-year-old niece Lily down for a nap – she hadn’t slept in the car much at all and was beside herself with tiredness – Morgan had set her sister up with a mug of tea and a pointed her in the direction of the bread and the toaster should she get hungry before their lunch. She’d then insisted she take her four-year-old nephew Jaimie out to burn off some of the energy he’d had to keep at bay on the long journey that had started at the crack of dawn. It was either that or let him terrorise Elaina’s cat Marley, who’d taken one look at the new arrivals at the cottage and bolted upstairs to hide under Morgan’s bed. Tegan had offered to take the cat once Morgan made her move up to Edinburgh; perhaps she should point out to Marley that it was time he got used to the liveliness of her sister’s household and its habitants.
‘Again!’ Jaimie begged after he’d leant over the honey-coloured stone wall on one side of the humpback bridge. He’d run across the road with Morgan’s supervision to see the stick he’d dropped on the other side and into the stream pass beneath.
‘That’ll have to be it,’ Morgan told him. ‘Your mum and I have plenty to do back at the house.’ Morgan had done her best to make a dent in everything that had to be done but despite having lived in the cottage for a while, even she’d underestimated the extent of what there was to do. The formalities of their mother’s estate were pretty much in hand but even they took time from both girls, mostly Morgan. Then there were the things that should be simpler – paying utility bills, making sure home insurance was all covered – but when you had no idea where to start, it was yet another daunting task to add to a pretty huge pile.
In her will, Elaina had left Forget-Me-Not Cottage to the sisters and they’d always said that they’d sell it. But to do that they had to clear it out, tidy it up, clean it thoroughly and with only one of her, Morgan knew she had her work cut out. So far, she’d tackled the shed at the bottom of the garden because she’d needed to access it for the lawnmower and gardening tools. She wasn’t much good at gardening, but she could do a basic job with the small patch of lawn. It was a nice space too and as soon as the spring weather had arrived, she’d taken to bringing a book out there to sit and read on the bench at the foot of the garden.
‘Come on, you,’ she urged Jaimie again after he’d ignored her and gleefully bent down to pick up another stick as though it were a piece of treasure to discover on the footpath. ‘Maybe Mum will bring you out again later on.’ She’d better be careful what she promised, though, because knowing Jaimie, he’d remember what she’d said and drop her right in it with Tegan. Morgan was glad her sister was here now, it was good to have the moral support, but Tegan seemed so exhausted, she would probably be far more appreciative of a hotel spa break than coming here to sort out their mother’s cottage. Mind you, Morgan could do with one of those herself.
As Jaimie insisted on readying another stick to play the game, Morgan thought about Nate. The handsome villager she remembered from school. Not that she’d ever had anything to do with him – she’d been shy back then, she probably wouldn’t have spoken to him even if he’d come up and said hello, which was something the higher years never did with the lower, like it was totally uncool or something. Nate, with his deep brown eyes and broad chest, had been wearing one of those leather bands around a tanned wrist which she’d seen when he reached out to pull Branston back towards him. And it was good to know he’d come to see Trevor because, just like her mum had been, Trevor was on his own. She wondered – was he lonely? He always seemed chipper enough, but you never could tell. She would’ve said her mum’s request for help was purely out of necessity until she got here and realised that actually, despite the friendships she’d built in the community, Elaina was still a bit isolated when it was just her in the cottage with Marley for company.
She waited for Jaimie to lift yet another stick up high, ready to drop. It was a big assumption to think that Trevor might be the same as Elaina, that he needed his son with him the way her mum had needed Morgan. But Morgan knew better than many the guilt of not being here enough, not making more of an effort to repair a relationship that wasn’t entirely broken but could’ve been made so much better a long, long time ago, giving them so many years with each other. Years she could never get back.
