No wonder Angus doesn’t want to be with me. Most of the time, I barely want to be with me. The clarity, the strength, the confidence I felt at the end of the hike: it’s all so far away. I don’t know up from down.
All I know is that I want to run.
“Rowan!” Mum screeches her way into the room. “Have you spoken to your sister this morning? They’re saying that she’s leaving Henry? Please tell me this is all a bad dream and everyth— You’re packing. Why are you packing? And you’re crying? Oh, love, is this about Sophie? It’s going to be fine. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. They’re getting married today, for heaven’s sake! I brought a dress! A hat! It has feathers on it! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for an excuse to buy a feathered hat? I’m supposed to be walking her down the aisle!”
“I’m really sorry, Mum.” I wipe my eyes. “But you’re not.”
“I’m not?”
“The wedding’s off.”
“But what happened?” Mum sinks slowly onto a chair in the corner of the room. It’s far too low for her. Her knees come over her chest. She hugs them. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, really, but it sounds like this is something Sophie needs to do. You haven’t seen her then? She’s not in her room?”
I need to say goodbye. I can’t stay here, not with him, but I also can’t run off. Not again.
“No.” Mum rests her chin on her knees. “This is all your father’s fault. He poisoned you both against marriage, against commitment. If he hadn’t screwed that lying whore, none of this would be happening.”
I press a hand to my forehead against the incoming headache. I so do not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with this.
“Knock knock.”
Thank god.
“Ah, there you are, Linda. How are you doing, pet? Not good, I see.” Joan edges into the room with a sigh. “Okay then. What do you need? Ibuprofen? Glass of wine? That therapy we’ve been talking about for the last decade? No?”
Mum mumbles something into her hands that I can’t decipher.
“I can’t force either of your girls into relationships that no longer serve them, no.” Joan gives me a quick up and down. “Maybe you should spend a little less time worrying about what they ought to be doing, and praising them for what they are. You’ve got two strapping independent lasses here, Lindy. Very set in their own minds. You might want to give them a bit of credit for that.”
I still, surprised. I’ve been bracing, expecting a classic Mum tirade: tears, hysterics, long monologue about the many, many ways she’s worried about my future. I wasn’t expecting this.
“Prosecco it is then. I’ll be right back.” Joan pauses, taking in my nearly packed bag. “I’m taking your outdoorsy friends to the station in a little bit. In case that’s of interest to you.”
“Joan, you’re a saint.” I could weep with gratitude. “Do you know where Sophie is?”
“Barn, I think.”
“I’ll say my goodbyes. Could you—” I gesture helplessly at Mum, who’s wringing the hem of her dress into a ball.
“Leave her with me. You check on yours, and I’ll look after mine.” Joan puts her hands on her hips and regards Mum sternly. “Now, Lindy, what do we say?”
“It’s not the end of the world, it just feels like it.”
“That’s right, pet. And again.”
“It’s not the end…”
I leave them to it, glad there’s someone in place to handle Mum. The corridor is deserted; I catch a glimpse of Stuart in the kitchen and veer the other way, leaving the house on the wrongside of the barn and then skirting around the farm until I’m approaching the wide double doors.
No sign of Angus anywhere. Good.
I find Sophie in the barn, now dressed in figure hugging jeans, no-nonsense brown leather boots and a pale blue sweater. She’s contemplating her surroundings in silence.
It’s beautiful. Empty, decked to the nines, the only signs of life the sunlight streaming in through the high windows, it has the feeling of a holy space. I can see the love Angus has poured into it in every element, from the polished and sanded wooden floorboards, to the newly installed window frames, the carefully restored walls. I can picture him doing it: the furrow of concentration on his brow, his careful, strong hands placing the next nail just so, his focus intense, the way he does everything. All in. No half measures.
Except when it comes to me.
