“I’m friendly with Bella and Poppy,” Lucy said with what she hoped was a convincing shrug. “It’s no big deal.”
“No? Because two dates in Hartley-by-the-Sea is the same as getting married.”
“They weren’t dates.”
“In Hartley-by-the—”
Lucy held up one hand. “Enough, I get it. Trust me, Diana, nothing is going on. You’ll have to find someone else to gossip about.”
Diana must have finally believed her, because she sighed and said, “Pity. I always thought the two of you would make a goodcouple. You’d bring him out of his shell and he’d keep you tethered to earth.”
Lucy smiled at that but then shook her head. “It’s not going to happen.”
“I suppose you are leaving soon.”
That was something she most definitely didn’t want to think about. “I still have almost two months left,” she protested, but in her head she was calculating the days and she realized her time in Hartley-by-the-Sea was half-finished. How had that happened?
Two months wasn’t a very long time, she realized as she headed back to Tarn House. The first two had gone by in a flash. She had a feeling the next two months would pass even more quickly.
The next week certainly went fast as she helped Juliet; Rachel was away visiting universities with a reluctant Lily, and so Lucy and Juliet did all the housework as well as the fry-up breakfasts and the afternoon teas. Lucy had never done so much physical labor before, but she enjoyed herself too, chatting with Juliet as they developed a system for the morning (Lucy handled toast, and Juliet manned the Aga), and spending the evenings with guests or on Thursday at the pub doing the quiz.
By Sunday night Lucy was exhausted, and contemplated returning to school the next morning with less than her usual enthusiasm. She didn’t relish seeing Alex again, although the pain of having him back off had, with time and effort, lessened just a little.
Since they were free of guests, Juliet brought a bottle of wine and two glasses into the sitting room; Lucy lay back on the sofa, propping her feet on the arm, something she suspected would have given Juliet fits a few months ago, but which she now eyed slightly askance, saying nothing. Progress, of a kind.
“So what about this baby thing?” Lucy asked when they were both settled with full glasses of wine. It was progress of another kind that she felt brave enough to ask the question.
Juliet glanced warily at her, and then shrugged. “It was a crazy idea. I must have been mad even to think of it. As for asking Peter . . .” She closed her eyes, cringing. “Definitely mad.”
“Biology is a powerful force.”
“I don’t think it was just that. It was more . . .” She sighed and stared at the ceiling. “A baby is like a blank slate. Someone to love, someone to love you, without any of the emotional baggage.”
Lucy considered this for a second before asking carefully, “Don’t you think we’re both bound to bring our baggage to motherhood, Juliet?”
“Well, yes. I suppose. But a baby is genetically programmed to love its mother. I think that was the idea I was fixated on.” She made a face. “Pathetic, really.”
“No, not pathetic. Or if it is, then I’m in that boat with you. I stayed with Thomas for so long because I wanted someone to love and need me. And I’ve been looking at Alex the same way.” Now she was the one to make a face. “Here is this widower with two motherless daughters in desperate need of someone like me to make them all better.”
“It helps that he’s a hottie,” Juliet pointed out.
“Well, yes. There’s that too. Too bad he didn’t feel the same way.” She’d told Juliet, a while back, about the whole “fun, but” conversation. Juliet had made a rude noise, which had made Lucy feel better.
Now they were both silent for a moment, lying on opposite sofas, staring at the ceiling, drinking their wine. “So here we are,” Juliet finally said, “with no men and no babies.”
“At least we’ve got each other.”
“Girl power,” Juliet replied dryly, and Lucy grinned. She felt happier than she had in a long, long time. Happier, perhaps, than when she’d been with Alex.
“Don’t knock it, sister.”
“Oh, please.” But Juliet was grinning back. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do when you go back to Boston?” she asked a few minutes later, and Lucy’s smile faded. She’d managed not to think about returning to Boston for the whole half term, and she didn’t particularly want to think about it now.
“Not really.” She took a slug of wine. “I have no job, no apartment, no boyfriend. There’s not much to go back to.”
“You must have friends. . . .”
“Yes,” Lucy said, and thought of Chloe. She’d Skyped with her a few times, although not in recent weeks. “Yes, I have friends,” she told Juliet. “But I also have friends here.”
