“Why don’t we see you anymore?” she demanded.
The awkwardness, Lucy thought, was palpable. “You do see me, Poppy,” she said in that cringing too-jolly voice she’d stopped using with children ages ago. “At school every day.”
“I don’t mean at school,” Poppy declared. “At home. You never come round anymore.”
As if she’d had a habit of coming round, when she’d been only twice. But two times to a seven-year-old probably felt like a lot.
“I’ve been busy,” Lucy said feebly, and Alex reached for Poppy’s hand.
“Let’s get in the queue for hot chocolate,” he said, and Poppy turned to him with an eager smile.
“And toffee apples?”
“Fine.” He pulled Poppy along, and Bella followed them with one last fleeting glance at Lucy.
Irritation warred with hurt and Lucy decided not to give in to either. This discomfort between her and Alex had to end. Either they could be civil and preferably normal with each other or they couldn’t.
“So what do you think of Guy Fawkes Day?” Maggie Bains asked as she came up to Lucy.
“It seems like a nice way to get the village together,” Lucy answered. “I don’t know about burning effigies, though.”
“Oh, we don’t do that anymore,” Maggie assured her, then added, “Not much, anyway.”
“Good to know.”
Maggie narrowed her eyes as she cocked her head towards Alex, who had lined up at the food stall with Poppy and Bella. “How are things with Mr. Kincaid, then?”
For a moment Lucy thought Maggie knew about her and Alex. Then she realized Maggie must be asking about work, and relief rushed through her. “Oh, fine. You were right—his bark is worse than his bite.”
“He’s a good man really,” Maggie said. “But he hasn’t had an easy run lately, bless him.” She laid a hand on Lucy’s arm. “You must give him time, Lucy.”
So it seemed Maggie did know about her and Alex. At this rate Lucy wondered who didn’t. Soon they’d feature in a question on the pub quiz.Which staff member was seen entering the head teacher’s house?
“Thanks for the advice,” she mumbled, and with a fleeting smile she left Maggie and went in search of some solitude.
She stayed on the edge of the crowd, away from the light cast by the flames of the bonfire, watching as people mingled and talked, laughed and joked. She felt both part and not part of it all; the village had embraced her in so many ways, and she had embraced it. But in a few weeks, if she went back to Boston, this would be nothing more than a quaint and distant memory.
And if she stayed?
Lucy’s heart lurched at the thought. She was afraid of so many things: of interaction with Alex being uncomfortable forever, and of not being able to find a decent job. Of failing again, just as she had in Boston. She didn’t want the people she’d come to know and like see her fall flat on her face.
And if they did? They might help you back up again.
“Lucy?”
Lucy turned to see Bella standing next to her. Dressed completely in baggy black, the girl was nearly invisible in the darkness. “Hey, Bella,” she said cautiously.
Bella dug her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, staring at her feet as she asked in a low voice, “Look, I have to know. Did you and Dad, you know, stop being friends because of me?”
“Oh Bella, no.” Lucy started to reach for her to give her a hug, and then thought better of it. She patted her on the shoulder instead. “No, not at all. We’re still friends.”
Bella glanced at her, scorn combating with uncertainty in her young face. “I’m not stupid. Dad liked you, and now he never talks about you anymore. And like Poppy said, you don’t come round.”
“I only came round twice, Bella—”
“But you guys liked each other. I’m not ababy. I could tell.”
Lucy stayed silent, wondering how honest she should be. She felt instinctively that this should be a conversation Alex had with his daughters, not her, but Bella was here with her now and maybe she deserved some straight answers. “You’re right, we did like each other, but I’m only here temporarily and your dad has a lot going on in his life. So we decided to take a step back and just stay friends.” She blew out a breath, hoping she hadn’t opened a Pandora’s box of teenage angst. “So it’s all okay.”
