Dan was silent for a long moment. “And?” he finally asked.
“And they’re going to nag and pressure me to go until I cave, because that’s what always happens.”
“It’s your choice, whether you go or not.”
“I know, but it never feels that way. My parents are very forceful.And it isn’t as if I’ve got a real life here.” She glanced at him, daring him to object, to insist that she did. Dan stayed silent. “I mean, I’m not even a postal assistant yet,” she half joked. “And working in a shop a few days a week? Living at home? I can’t even afford to get a flat.”
“So you want to go to London?”
“I don’t know.” But she did know, even if she didn’t want to admit it to Dan. She wanted to stay in Hartley-by-the-Sea; she wanted Dan and Rachel and everyone else to tell her to stay. To insist on it, because they wanted her there. Because they needed her.
“It sounds like a decent situation,” Dan remarked tonelessly. “Working in London. And it’s more your thing, isn’t it? City life. All that.” He waved his hand vaguely.
“I’ve liked it here,” she said, and then waited. Dan still said nothing. “But maybe...” She imagined taking the job, finding a flat her parents would pay for, falling in with her old circle of friends, a never-ending cycle of clubs and wine bars and parties. Maybe that really was her life. Maybe she’d just been playing at something different in Hartley-by-the-Sea.
“I think you should go for it, Claire,” Dan said, and went back behind the post office counter. Claire couldn’t make out his expression behind the Plexiglas. “It sounds like a good opportunity.”
He almost sounded as if he wanted to get rid of her. And she was late for Rachel. “Okay then,” Claire said finally. “Thanks for your input.” She walked out of the shop without either of them saying another word.
Four hours later she’d finished her two cleaning jobs and stood in front of Rachel’s house, pail of cleaning supplies in hand. Claire couldn’t bear the thought of going back to FourGables and facing her parents, and so she knocked on Rachel’s door instead.
Meghan answered the door, looking unimpressed. “You’ve got a face like a lemon.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Just life.” Claire tried for a smile. “Is Rachel around?”
“Yes, but she’s busy. I don’t think she can fix your life on top of everything else.”
Affronted, Claire drew back. “I didn’t ask her to. I just cleaned two of her houses, actually—”
“Come in if you want,” Meghan cut her off, and stepped aside.
The house was tidy for once, with all the coats on their hooks and the little hall table cleared of its usual drift of junk mail. Meghan looked better too, her face a little rounder, her eyes less wild. She inspected Claire for an uncomfortable moment before she nodded towards the kitchen. “She’s in there.”
Claire stepped into the kitchen to see Rachel sitting at the table, papers spread out in front of her.
“Claire—”
“Sorry. Am I interrupting you?”
“No, not really.” Rachel tidied the papers into a pile and put them away. “Just going through a few things. How did the cleaning go?”
“Fine—”
Rachel looked at her more closely. “Are you all right?”
“Do I really look that awful?”
“No, but...” Rachel looked at her closely. “You look tired and I don’t know, lost.”
Which was how she felt. “My parents came home yesterday.”
“And?”
Rachel looked nonplussed, which was just how Dan had looked. Having her parents return to their own house shouldn’t be such a big deal. Such a tragedy. Of course it shouldn’t.
