‘I think you should at least hear him out instead of closing down the subject every time he brings it up,’ Dawn said, clearly trying to sound neutral although it was obvious to me whose side she was on. ‘What harm could it do to listen to his point of view?’
‘I’ve been here before, remember?’ I pushed away my plate, suddenly not hungry. ‘My first marriage. He went exactly the same way. Suddenly London lost its shine. He wanted to move to the country. I didn’t think much of the idea back then either.’
‘But you were much younger in those days,’ Dawn reminded me gently.
Muchyounger. There’s a world of difference between someone in their mid-twenties and someone in their mid-forties. Yet here I was, still digging my heels in and refusing to consider the possibilities, just as I had then.
I thought about Rory and realised, with a pang, how tired he looked recently. There were far more lines around his eyes and a permanent crease in his forehead from the frown he seemed to wear a lot. And his dark hair was peppered with grey now. Was I being unfair not even considering the possibility of giving him something he clearly wanted? He’d been so good to me, so patient. He deserved better, surely?
And was moving away from London and starting again really such a terrible idea? We could sell our house for a good price and move somewhere cheaper. We’d probably get a bigger garden, and it would be nice to have a view of something other than more houses.
But what about my job? It was all right for Rory. He only had to commute once a week, and if he wanted to move further away from London his company had other hubs scattered around the country – Birmingham, Bristol, Leeds, Glasgow. He could, theoretically, move to within commuting distance of any of those cities.
I, on the other hand…
But Rochester’s had other stores. At some point there might be a vacancy in any one of those. Shouldn’t I at least consider it? Maybe put out some feelers?
I should go along with whatever Rory wanted, for his sake.
My stomach lurched and I took a sip of wine, desperate to bury the feelings that this train of thought was stirring up.
Once, many years ago, I’d gone along with what my first husband had wanted. Or I’d pretended to. He’d had a dream to leave city life behind and find rural bliss with me in some pretty little cottage where we could raise our children and be a proper family. And I’d said of course that was what I wanted too, and I’d really tried to convince myself that it was. That I could be happy living that sort of life with the man I loved.
Except, deep down, I’d known I couldn’t be, and I’d spiralled into a panic that had led me to do stupid things that I would regret for the rest of my life.
I had to be sure this time. I couldn’t just go along with Rory’s dreams and make the same mistakes over again. If he really wanted us to start a new life somewhere else then I had to be absolutely sure it was what I wanted, too.
Okay, so my thoughts were spiralling again. I had to rein them in, or I’d go to the same dark place I had before. After all, Rory hadn’t actually said he was planning to start house hunting, had he?
But if he was…
Then maybe Rory wasn’t the right man for me after all. And maybe, just maybe, I’d married him for all the wrong reasons.
4
BROOKE
‘Knock knock.’
Brooke and Danny glanced at each other in surprise. It was rare that they got ghostly visitors to the flat Lawrie had assigned them when they first arrived in Rowan Vale, but there was no doubting that this was one. Living visitors, such as the girls from the hairdressing salon beneath, or Callie or Lawrie, would knock properly on the door. Since ghosts couldn’t knock on wood, they always verbalised the sound, as it was understood that they were entitled to their privacy, and simply walking into another ghost’s property was considered very bad form.
‘Who is it?’ Danny asked suspiciously as Brooke called, ‘Come in.’
He gave her a scowl which she shrugged off. Too late now, whoever it was.
She was relieved when Polly Herron stepped through the door, a wide smile on her face. Even Danny couldn’t object to Polly, who was one of the kindest, loveliest ghosts in the village.
‘What brings you here?’ she asked in surprise, after greeting their guest.
‘Sorry to intrude, my loves,’ Polly said. ‘I have some news I thought you’d want to know.’ She smoothed her cotton print dress and sat down gracefully in the armchair. ‘Isn’t it awful weather?’ she mused, gazing out of the window at the heavy, grey sky. ‘You’d never think it’ll be April in two days, would you? Our Shona’s constantly mopping the floor of the teashop cos people keep trailing the wet in. All them puddles they’re walking through, and all them dripping umbrellas and raincoats! Proper messy it is in there. She’s right fed up.’
She patted her dark hair, which was neatly swept into the victory rolls style of the 1940s. ‘I’ll say one thing for being a ghost – you never have to worry about ruining your hair in the rain, do you?’ She laughed.
Brooke, thinking of the terrible hairstyle she’d been stuck with for the past eighteen years couldn’t help wishing the rain would wash all the hairspray out of it and give her flat hair again. She’d happily stand out in the rain for hours if she thought it would make any difference. Sadly, it wouldn’t. She’d already tried it.
‘So, you were saying – you had some news?’ Danny said, clearly thinking that Polly had wandered off the subject, and wanting to bring her back on course – no doubt so she could say what she had to say and leave as soon as possible.
Brooke sighed. It was nice to have company, and she wished Danny would be a bit more welcoming.
