Now she was really out of her depth. “I’m sorry,” Emily said, knowing the words were inadequate. “That must be…difficult.”
“Have you ever wanted children?” Alice asked as she brought the tea things to the table.
“Have I…?” Emily’s mind spun as she struggled to think how to answer.
“Sorry, is that too personal a question?” Alice bit her lip. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No, no.” It was too personal a question, but then just about any question was, and after Alice’s emotional revelations Emily didn’t feel she could clam up herself. Weirdly, part of her didn’t even want to. “I haven’t really thought about it, to tell you the truth,” she said finally.
“You haven’t?” Alice looked surprised. “I mean, most women do, don’t they, one way or another?”
Emily shrugged. “I suppose it’s not something I ever thought would happen for me.”
Alice cocked her head, her expression softening into sympathy. “Why not?”
“Well…” Emily reached for her tea to have something to focus on other than Alice’s cringingly compassionate look. “It just isn’t something I’ve…focused on.” Which sounded so lame, but what else could she say? Relationships, marriage and babies, kitchen suppers and family holidays, dogs and cats and a clutter of muddy boots in the hall…it was all so, so beyond her. It was what everyone else had, what she’d always supposed everyone took for granted, but it had never been that way for her. It had always felt as far away as the moon.
“Right,” Alice said after a moment. “And is that by choice?”
Emily couldn’t keep from giving her a startled look. Of course it was by choice. It wasn’t as if she had a pair of handcuffs on, was it? If she’d really wanted a boyfriend, she could have got one, surely?
And yet…
“It’s just how it’s worked out,” she said a bit stiffly.
“But it doesn’t have to be that way forever,” Alice persisted. “You can’t be much older than I am—”
“I’m twenty-six.”
“Exactly.” Alice looked pleased. “There’s plenty of time for you to meet someone.”
For a second Owen’s image flashed into Emily’s mind—the dark, curly hair, the glint in those blue eyes, his hands on her shoulders, the entirely unexpected current of feeling that had run through like a bolt of lightning…
“It’s not something I’m looking for,” she said firmly. “I really am happy on my own.”
Thankfully Alice left it at that, and they ended up talking about the fundraiser, and the hope of booking some Victorian arcade-type amusements, and after twenty minutes of reassuring conversation about nothing more than work, Emily headed back to the office.
Yet Alice’s question about it being by choice lingered in her mind like a morning mist, grey shreds of fog she couldn’t quite banish.
Of course it was by choice. If she’d wanted a boyfriend or even a husband, she would have found one. And yet…there was her mother, always in the background, needing to be managed, protected, cared for. Hidden from prying eyes.
At least, that was how it had been in Emily’s childhood, but she was a grown woman now, with her own life to live. If she wanted to pursue a relationship, she could. Her mother didn’t even live with her anymore, at least not often. Only when she had no other place to go…or she needed her.
So why did a relationship, a real life, feel so utterly impossible? Was it just because she’d never had one before, because she didn’t know how?
And was that something you could just learn?
The rain was still pelting down as Emily left the manor and headed down the drive a little bit after five, the sky thunderously dark, the wood foreboding as rain lashed the branches of the trees and sent even more drops spattering into the pavement below. She put the hood of her raincoat up, her head ducked low, as she dashed from manor to close, pausing reluctantly when she heard Olivia call from her doorway.
“You must be soaked! I’ve just put the kettle on. Do you have time for a cuppa?”
Emily blinked through the downpour to see Olivia smiling at her in such obvious welcome, it felt downright mean to say no. And why should she? A cuppa would be nice, and Olivia was no intimidating Harriet.
“Yes, all right,” she said, and walked towards number four. Inside the cottage was identical to Emily’s own, but completely different in every other respect. Where Emily’s was spare and spartan, Olivia’s was messy and chaotic—colours clashing in crocheted blankets, throw pillows, and artwork that jostled for space on the walls. A pile of wildly patterned bowls were stacked topsy-turvy by a sink crammed with dishes. A cat was perched on top of an overflowing laundry basket, gazing balefully at Emily as she took in the scene.
“Sorry, that’s Mr Hyde,” Olivia said as she nodded towards the cat. “He’s my bipolar cat. He’s either lovely or horrible, and I never know which.”
“Ah, right.” Emily looked away because she wasn’t sure she knew what the expression on her face was. She knew all about bipolar, never mind cats.
“Anyway. Tea.” Olivia reached for a big, friendly-looking teapot covered in cavorting elephants. “Builder’s brew all right?”
“Yes, thank you.” Emily’s fingers were practically twitching to straighten the stack of bowls by the sink, or put the laundry in the washer, or anything that would make this room a little less chaotic. But Olivia seemed oblivious to the mess, cheerfully finding two more clean cups from the cupboard, and disregarding the half dozen piled in the sink.
“Ignore the mess,” Olivia said cheerfully as she brought their cups of tea to the table. “If you can.”
Emily gave a small smile. It would take some effort, but she intended to do just that.
“So.” Olivia gave her an alarmingly frank look as she sat down. “I hope Harriet didn’t put you off the other night, at The Drowned Sailor. She can be a
