Standing there, Lucy felt a surge of love for the place, for the potential of it. Some of the teachers were going to the pub tomorrow night, and they’d invited her along. Back at the beach café a few days ago, Juliet had opened up, at least a little, about why she’d moved here. One of the pupils seemed to like her.
Smiling a little, she headed down the hill.
Back at Tarn House, Juliet was out walking the dogs and no guests were due until tomorrow, and so for a little while Lucy had the house to herself.
She kicked off her shoes amidst the jumble of boots in the hall and put the kettle on in the kitchen, stretching luxuriously. Juliet, she saw as she dropped her arms, had left her a note propped against the salt and pepper shakers, reminding her that it was Thursday, and her turn to make dinner tonight. Halfheartedly Lucy wondered if scrambled eggs would suffice.
She wasn’t much of a cook. She didn’t bother when it was just for herself, and the meals she’d occasionally made Thomas and his boys had never seemed to satisfy them, if the melodramatic gagging and choking noises Will and Garrett had made during dinner had been any clue. Thomas, caught between apology and accusation, had always ordered them takeout.
Just as with those unruly boys, Lucy had a slightly shaming desire to please or even impress Juliet, and yet she recognizedthat impressing her half sister was going to be about as hard as impressing her mother, something she’d never once managed to do.
She curled up on the window seat with a mug of tea and gazed out at the same view she’d had from the school, only closer up. She could see the deep puddles in the sheep pasture, the wooden five-bar gate that led to yet another field, and from this angle the sea was no more than a twinkle in the distance. The light was syrupy and golden, gilding everything in sight.
The scene was perfectly pastoral and peaceful, and yet there was something a little melancholy about it too. The fields were empty save for a few dirty-looking sheep, and dark clouds threatened to overtake the fragile blue of the sky.
Some of Lucy’s hard-won optimism waned. She should check her e-mail, yet she couldn’t stomach the thought of the newsy, concerned messages she’d probably received from Chloe—or those she most likely hadn’t received. Her mother hadn’t spoken to her since Lucy’s one tearful phone call after the story had broken, when Fiona had sighed and said she was sorry, but Lucy really needed to develop a bit of backbone.
“So this is you helping me?” Lucy had asked, her voice choked, and Fiona had had enough grace to admit, “I know it doesn’t feel like it, Lucy, but yes.”
Lucy had hung up the phone, and they hadn’t spoken since.
She could call Chloe now, and yet Lucy was reluctant to talk to anyone before her life here seemed just a little more promising. Chloe was someone important in marketing, and even though they’d been best friends since freshman year of college, their lives had taken divergent paths. Chloe’s towards career success, Lucy’s less so. And she didn’t feel like having Chloe hear just how much less on a phone call.
She was going to the pub, she reminded herself. She had a job. Juliet could, on occasion, thaw a little bit. Given time, things would surely improve.
In any case, she wasn’t about to run away again.
She drained her mug of tea, and went to see what Juliet had in her cupboards for dinner.
Half an hour later Juliet walked in with two very muddy dogs, both of which she banished to the utility room before turning to Lucy.
“Something smells good.”
“Pasta with egg and bacon. I’m afraid I’m not a gourmet cook.”
“Simple works for me,” Juliet replied briskly as she washed her hands at the sink. Lucy laid plates on the table and Juliet fetched forks and knives. She took a bottle of red wine from a rack in the pantry and brandished it, eyebrows raised. “No guests tonight, although you’ve got work tomorrow. Fancy a glass?”
“Oh, go on, then,” Lucy answered with a smile, and her heart lightened rather ridiculously as Juliet opened the bottle and poured two glasses.Thiswas what she’d been hoping for when she’d come to England. Cozy suppers and confiding chats over large glasses of red.
“How was your first day, anyway?” Juliet asked when they were both seated.
“Overwhelming,” Lucy confessed, adding hurriedly, “I know it probably shouldn’t be. I’m just answering phones and photocopying—”
“Any first day is bound to be a bit overwhelming,” Juliet answered. “It will get better.”
“I hope so.”
“Alex didn’t give you a hard time?”
She thought of his tongue-lashing about the card stock, and then his terse apology. “No, not really.” She raised her eyebrows as she took a sip of wine. “Why do you ask?”
“He’s known to be a bit tough, as I said. But the school went from Very Good to Excellent in the last Ofsted inspection.”
“I’m not even sure I know what any of that means, but it sounds impressive.”
Juliet cracked a small smile and Lucy asked impulsively, “Have you heard from—from Fiona at all?”
Juliet’s smile disappeared and she looked away. “No, but then I haven’t heard from her in about ten years. I called her on her birthday five years ago, but she’s never rung or written me.”
