HARRIET
Harriet hummed happily to herself as she placed a batch of scones in the Aga. She might be channelling Amy in wanting to welcome people to the house with food, but she felt so good. The sun was shining, the house clean and sparkling. Most importantly, Ellie would be here soon and their family holiday could begin.
But this holiday was more significant than a mere holiday. It was also the week she began her official year of living back in Dartmouth. The week too when she and Frank told Ellie about the legacy and the truth about her own life.
Not knowing how Ellie would react was worrying but, Harriet kept telling herself, Ellie was a grown-up independent woman. She knew the way of the world, that these things happened. Emotionally though, Harriet knew, it was bound to be hard on her.
When Harriet had fully explained why she’d acted the way she had, stressing it had all been done out of love for her and wanting to protect her, Ellie would surely understand and forgive. Wouldn’t she? They’d always been so close. Down through the years, avoiding hurting Ellie had always been Harriet’s main concern.
At least there was the rest of today to enjoy with Ellie and Frank. No point in diving straight in with the news that was bound to be a shock to Ellie. Let her settle in. A family dinner and then tomorrow ‘The Talk’ to get things out into the open. Afterwards they could all settle down to a new life back in Dartmouth.
The kitchen door opened and Frank came in from the garden. ‘Scones?’ he sniffed. ‘Smells good. Any chance of one with a cup of tea?’
‘Ten minutes,’ Harriet said. ‘Ellie might be here by then too.’
They were both sitting out on the terrace about to tuck into the scones when Ellie arrived.
‘You were right, Mum, Dartmouth is lovely,’ she said, giving her a hug. ‘Met your friend Sabine by the way when I stopped for an ice cream.’
Harriet’s heart skipped a beat. ‘You’ve met Sabine? How was she?’ Surely she wouldn’t have said anything to Ellie about why they were actually here.
‘Nice lady. I apologised for missing her exhibition.’ Ellie moved across to Frank and hugged him. ‘Hi, Dad. Thought this was a holiday. You look as though you’ve been gardening.’
‘You know me, can’t bear to see weed strangling things even in a holiday home,’ Frank said lightly, after a quick look at Harriet.
Listening to Ellie chattering away as the three of them sat on the terrace enjoying the cream tea, Harriet began to relax. Everything was going to be all right.
‘So freelancing is working out for you,’ Frank said.
‘Wish in a way I’d started years ago,’ Ellie said. ‘But then I wouldn’t have the contacts I’ve got now.’
‘And Rod?’ Harriet asked. ‘Have you heard anymore from him?’
Ellie shook her head. ‘No. All in the past now. He did me a favour, I think, by dumping me. Real wake-up call for me.’ She jumped up. ‘Right, which room am I in?’
‘I’ve given you one of the rooms with a river view,’ Harriet said. ‘Come on, let’s get your stuff upstairs and I’ll show you the rest of the house.’
‘While you two girls do that, I’m going to have a shower and then walk into town and pick up some wine for dinner this evening,’ Frank said.
‘This is a lovely house, Mum,’ Ellie said as she followed Harriet up the stairs and into the bedroom. ‘Feels more like a private house than a holiday let. How did you find it?’
She moved across to stand by the window before Harriet could answer. ‘Wow. Look at the view. All those boats. Any sailing schools around, do you think? Really fancy having a go.’
‘I’m sure we can find you somewhere,’ Harriet said, grateful that the moment to answer Ellie’s question about the house had passed. ‘There’s an old dinghy hung up in the rafters of the garage. Maybe we’ll get that down and I’ll teach you the basics.’
Ellie turned to look at her in surprise. ‘Didn’t know you sailed, Mum.’
‘Sailing was always an essential part of growing up here,’ Harriet said. ‘Sabine and I both had dinghies. I learnt to swim at an early age too.’
She smiled at Ellie. ‘Right. I’ll leave you to unpack and go and organise dinner. See you downstairs when you’re ready.’
Back down in the kitchen, preparing the roast lamb, Harriet felt better than she had for months. She was confident everything was going to be all right. Ellie loved Dartmouth, she liked the house, and she felt they were as close as they had ever been. Pushing cloves of garlic under the lamb skin, Harriet resolved to tell Ellie the truth tonight after dinner rather than wait until tomorrow. Tonight, after a good meal, a glass or two of wine, when they were all feeling mellow, would be better.
Washing the garlic off her hands, she realised she’d forgotten to pick some rosemary from the big bush halfway down the garden. Grabbing the kitchen scissors, she opened the back door to go and get some, at the same time as Ellie walked into the kitchen.
‘Back in two ticks,’ Harriet said. ‘Need rosemary.’
When she arrived back with a big bunch of the herb, planning to hang the surplus to dry with the saucepans hanging on the kitchen-maid rack over the Aga, Ellie was nowhere to be seen.
Peeling the potatoes, Harriet planned how she was going to raise the subject of the past after dinner. After all, she couldn’t jump straight into ‘so glad you like the house because it will be yours one day’ without some sort of lead up. The difficulty would be finding the right words to explain decisions that had been taken in the past.
She glanced up as Ellie came back into the kitchen and froze as she saw what Ellie was holding. Time stood still as she stared at the small silver photo frame Ellie was holding. Where the hell had she found that?