Amy woke the next morning, disoriented as she struggled to remember where she was. The sheets felt rougher than usual and the light from the window shone in at an unfamiliar angle.
Then she remembered. She sat and glanced around the sparsely furnished room. She’d left home. Not forever, but even so, it had been a sudden and unplanned move and was so unlike her she didn’t know how she felt.
There was relief. Relief at being away from the pressure of going back to work and having to face the sympathetic smiles and concerned questions which, however well-meaning, felt intrusive and hollow. She’d need to call in sick, but she’d do that a little later. Relief that she could simply focus on herself and not worry about the effect she was having on Angus. Or Fleur. Relief that she didn’t have to sit in church and feel that she was suddenly an outsider. That where once she’d been at home, she suddenly felt in some kind of emotional exile, as if her soul was a desert she didn’t know how to cross.
There was guilt, too. Sharp and painful. She thought of Angus and felt an ache in her heart. After weeks of feeling more and more estranged, she’d wanted his comforting arms around her and his promises that as long as they were together, everything would be okay.
Except they hadn’t been. It hadn’t been okay at all.
Pushing her thoughts away, Amy swung out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown. Her movements felt heavy and wooden, a familiar feeling these days. Her grief weighed her down like a cloak she couldn’t shake off. Although being at Daisy’s would mean that some of the pressure was off, she doubted anything could truly take this weight from her. Not even God. It was as though she was wading through quicksand.
She went downstairs to find Daisy sitting at the breakfast bar, reading the morning paper.
She looked up and smiled as Amy came in. “Good morning.” She pushed a plate of croissants and jam towards her. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot. Would you like some?”
Amy nodded and managed a smile. The croissant looked delicious, but she had no appetite and she nibbled it unenthusiastically. If Daisy noticed, she didn’t say anything.
“Angus called,” Daisy told her. “He said not to wake you, he just wanted to make sure you’d gotten here safely and are okay. He said he’d phone your employer and square a few days off.”
“I can do that,” Amy said, then realised she sounded ungrateful.
Daisy shrugged. “I’m just relaying the message.”
Amy felt bad. She should be grateful that everyone was being so kind, yet somehow, she just felt stifled. “Did he sound...all right?” she asked, feeling guilty again. She’d done the right thing by getting away, but she shouldn’t have left without speaking to him. He deserved better. Why couldn’t she bring herself to face him? Or even call him?
“He sounded concerned,” Daisy said honestly, closing the paper and looking at her cousin with shrewdness in her grey eyes. “Have you come here to get some space, Amy, or have you come here to hide?”
Amy blinked, startled and immediately defensive. “If you don’t want me to stay...” she began, but Daisy held up a hand to silence her.
“Don’t do that. You know you’re welcome, and for as long as you want. But I’m not going to mollycoddle you, my sweet, any more than I did when we were children.”
Amy couldn’t help but smile at that. Daisy was a few years older than her and as children had seemed the only one in their family impervious to Amy’s charms. Amy had used her golden curls and big blue eyes to great effect when it came to getting her own way. Daisy had never fallen for it for a minute.
“What are you going to do today?” Daisy asked.
Amy shrugged. She hadn’t planned on doing anything.
“If you simply want to rest, that’s fine. I’ll be at the shelter most of the day, so if you want to come down at any time, we could always use an extra pair of hands.”
Amy didn’t answer. As awful as it would sound, the last thing she felt like doing was helping out at Daisy’s shelter. She admired her cousin for the tireless work she put into helping others, but right now, Amy didn’t feel she had anything to give. She felt a pervading sense of uselessness that had been present ever since she’d learned about the endometriosis. It had sapped every ounce of creativity out of her. She hadn’t baked once. Even ladling soup at Daisy’s shelter felt beyond her. “Maybe tomorrow,” she said.
Daisy gave her a sharp look but nodded. “Fair enough. Make yourself at home. There’s cable TV and I’ve still got that bookshelf full of Nana’s books. Honestly, she was into all sorts—culture, travel, you name it, it’s there. You should be able to entertain yourself.”
Amy nodded. All she really wanted to do was go back to bed, but it felt wrong to say that to Daisy when she was about to spend her entire day in service to others.
Daisy bustled off to get ready for the day ahead and Amy went back upstairs. She laid some clothes out, sweatpants and a shirt, wishing she’d packed her old comfy vest, and reluctantly took a shower. She felt so fragile that the water pattering her skin was almost painful.
She studiously avoided looking at her naked body. The body that had let her down. Since the miscarriage, she’d not wanted to look at herself, to see the way the swollenness of her breasts and the tiny swell of her lower stomach had so quickly disappeared, as if they had never been there at all.
As if her baby had never been.
She stepped out of the shower and got dressed, her limbs wooden and heavy again. Just the interaction with Daisy over breakfast had been more than she had been managing most mornings and she was exhausted already. At the same time, she felt a tiny bit of the old Amy rear her head and she decided she could at least go downstairs.
Once Daisy left, she spent the morning looking through the bookshelf containing their grandmother’s old books. Nana had been an interesting woman and her reading tastes reflected her many interests. Amy found herself lost for a few hours reading about the English Land Girls in World War Two before her stomach grumbled, reminding her that it was lunch time. It was the first time in days she’d felt physically hungry. She fixed a salad and then had a slice of the sponge cake Daisy had left out for her. Feeling a little brighter, she turned the TV on and settled down to watch some daytime shows.
When a program about early motherhood came on, taking her unawares, Amy felt like she’d been punched in the gut. She stared at the screen, watching a new mother place her baby in its crib. Tears stung her eyes. She turned the TV off and went upstairs, retreating under her bed covers. Daisy had been right—she was hiding.
Later that evening she joined Daisy downstairs, although she declined an evening meal, her appetite having fled once more. Daisy poured a cup of tea and chattered about her day. Despite herself, Amy felt more than a little interested.
The shelter Daisy ran was always overcrowded and underfunded, and it sounded as though it sometimes kept going on prayer alone. They housed homeless and vulnerable people and had both short-term beds, known as ‘rough sleepers’, and a handful of individual rooms that were usually reserved for younger women or the particularly vulnerable.
“This girl, Marta, has been with us for a few weeks now. She’s only seventeen so I’m hoping Social Services will get her properly housed soon, but she’s not overly forthcoming about her circumstances. I gather she ran away from foster care about a year ago and has been living with her boyfriend since then. Now she’s run away from him.”
Amy shuddered. “Was he violent?”
Daisy’s jaw tightened. “We think so. She doesn’t say a lot, but she’s obviously terrified of him. He’d been plying her with drugs, too.”
Amy shook her head. How could people do that?
“The good news,” Daisy went on, “is that Marta has been coming to church. We’re a Christian shelter but we don’t push faith on anyone. Marta asked to come of her own accord and recently made a commitment.”
Amy smiled. Marta’s story had momentarily taken her outside of herself. “I’m glad for her,” she said, meaning it. There were too many lost souls in the world. She was glad the girl had started to find her way home, although it sounded as though her journey hadn’t been, and wouldn’t be, an easy one.
Daisy looked at Amy, her brow furrowed. “Why don’t you come and meet her tomorrow? It would do you good to get out of your own head and I’m sure she’d like the company. We’re always so short staffed at the shelter that I never get to spend as much time with individuals as I’d like. Maybe you could come and sit with her a while?”
Amy frowned. “What would I say? I wouldn’t want her to think I was being intrusive. She’s obviously been through a lot.”
“She likes to cook, although her skills are limited. Perhaps you could teach her some basics.”
Amy shifted uncomfortably. She knew Daisy meant well, but she’d come here for a break, not to take on a girl with problems when she couldn’t even face her own.
Daisy saw her reluctance and smiled, although Amy could sense her disappointment. “Don’t worry. I understand if it’s too much. I just thought it could be an option if you get fed up hanging around here.”
Amy nodded. “Sure. I’ll see how I feel tomorrow.”
Later, as she lay in bed, she thought about the young girl and how lonely she must be feeling tonight. Then her thoughts turned to Angus and she wondered how he was getting on without her. Fleur and Callum would have rallied around him, no doubt. Although it was hypocritical of her, she’d asked him for time on her own, but she was disappointed he hadn’t phoned her today. Didn’t he miss her?
Closing her eyes, she prayed for him. It was the first time she’d prayed in a while and it was a comfort, although she couldn’t bring herself to pray about the things that were really on her heart. Instead, she prayed for Marta, a young girl she didn’t know but whose story, for some reason, had touched her heart.
Before she drifted off to sleep, she decided she’d go to the shelter tomorrow after all.