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Just The Way You Are(108)

Author:Beth Moran

I didn’t add that my heart really couldn’t take another bashing so soon after Joan had left, and it would be impossible for me to kiss or date Sam and keep it casual.

‘Yes, of course. No, totally. I completely understand. I don’t want that either. I wouldn’t normally… I mean, I haven’t… You’re the first person I’ve wanted to kiss since Carrie. I don’t make a habit of ambushing my friends.’

‘It’s none of my business who you choose to ambush,’ I said, managing to keep my tone light-hearted despite every nerve in my body crackling in response to his words. ‘As long as it’s not me from now on.’

‘Absolutely.’ He got to his feet, screwing up the empty chip paper. ‘Although, like I said—’

‘So, is this it then, for the grand Bigley Bottom tour?’ I asked.

Sam blinked a couple of times as if readjusting to the sudden change of subject. ‘There is one more place I’d like to show you, if that’s okay?’

He seemed slightly hesitant, almost nervous as he led me towards the far side of the village. When we stopped outside a large Georgian house, I realised why.

‘Four generations of Parker and Sons were born and raised here. That window, there, is where I came into the world.’ He turned to point at a side building. ‘That used to be the office.’

‘So your great-grandfather started the law firm?’

We leant on the white fence that bordered the imposing front garden. Sam wasn’t worried that his parents would spot us snooping, as they were on holiday.

‘Every male descendent since has joined as a solicitor, along with my cousin Kitty.’

‘I wonder how many of them hated it, and spent their days wishing they had the courage to pack it in and become a ranger.’

‘Well, none of the others had a nervous breakdown, as far as I know.’ He pushed away from the fence, readying to move on. ‘Still, every family has its weak link, as Dad loves to remind me.’

‘You know that’s rubbish, though, don’t you?’ I asked, keeping my voice soft so that the anger and disgust didn’t show.

‘Yeah, most of the time.’

I wasn’t convinced.

‘At least I’ve not had any children so I don’t have to face that battle.’ We began walking back into the village. ‘Tom and Megan’s fourteen-year-old, Ethan, wants to be a fashion designer.’

‘Oh, I bet your dad loves that!’

‘They haven’t told him.’

‘Might take some heat off you once they do.’

We walked back through the village in silence, until reaching Hatherstone Lane. ‘I know it shouldn’t bother me. In the rational, logical part of my head it doesn’t. But everywhere I turn in this village I see our family history. I can’t help wondering sometimes whether my ancestors would be as disappointed as Dad says.’

‘Even with Tom and Chris working for the firm? It’s not like it all depends on you to keep the legacy going. Even if it did, nothing lasts forever. There’s nothing to gain in carrying on just because people who aren’t here any more might feel upset about it.’

‘Like I said, my logical brain…’

‘I do get it,’ I said, after a moment. ‘It’s not the same, but even after everything my mum’s done, I can’t help but want her approval.’ We’d reached the cottage now, and I stopped to dig the keys out of my shorts pocket. ‘I invited her to my party.’

Sam looked at me, eyebrows raised. ‘Wow. That’s a big move.’

‘Will you help watch my back? Steph’s coming, and she’ll be on red alert, but when it comes to my mother you can never have too many allies.’

‘Of course.’ Sam’s eyes were soft like caramel, his smile a thermal blanket wrapped around my battered heart. ‘What are friends for?’

31

The next three weeks were somehow the hardest, and yet the most encouraging time since those first few days after I’d moved. The day after Joan and Leanne left, I went to the Buttonhole as arranged, and lost myself in embroidery for a while, the delicate stitching requiring all of my concentration. Aunty Linda confirmed that Mum seemed to be making progress. She’d had lunch with the manager of the bakery next to the Buttonhole, and when he confessed that he’d not spoken to his son since his bitter divorce, it hit home.

‘Karina and I have co-ordinated a two-pronged attack,’ Aunty Linda told me. ‘We’ve been explaining on repeat about how trying to keep you to herself ended up driving you away, and any hope of a reconciliation has to be based on mutual respect and trust. At the same time, we’ve been giving her plenty of opportunities to find some purpose and enjoyment in other things, so that she doesn’t depend on you quite so much.’