As they walked down the aisle, Miranda caught the eyes of Troy and Henrietta and smiled in surprise. She had thought only old people went to church. Troy’s eyes widened at the sight of her belted Dolce & Gabbana coat, leather boots and fur collar, and Henrietta waved discreetly, envying her effortless glamour and slender silhouette. David made for the front pew, fully expecting it to be on permanent hold for them, the first family of Hartington, but it was occupied by old Colonel Pike, scowling at all that was bad about the modern world, like female vicars, and Joan Halesham and her octogenarian beau, studying the prayer book through thick spectacles. Grudgingly he sat in the pew behind.
Storm and Gus would have been bored by the service had it not been for organist Dorothy Dipwood, speeding up and slowing down during the hymns without any regard for the congregation. Only the last line was sung in time with the organ. The Reverend Beeley bounced about the nave, gesticulating wildly and speaking with emphasis as if she were talking to children. David thought it amusing while Miranda, who had never liked church since being made to go so often as a child, was more entertained watching her children. Her eyes wandered about the pretty church, at the ancient stone walls and vaulted ceilings and wondered how on earth they had managed to build it all those centuries ago without the help of modern technology—anything to keep her mind off Jean-Paul. The vicar’s sermon was about taking the time to enjoy the small things in an increasingly frenetic world, but neither Miranda nor David was paying attention.
On the green outside, Colonel Pike invited David to his home to show off the medals he had won in the war. Miranda found Troy and Henrietta, while the children discovered the gravestones, which they jumped on and off as if they were large stepping-stones in a river. The sun shone brightly down as the congregation lingered to chat. Miranda felt warmth on her face and the unfamiliar sense of being a part of the community. She found herself enjoying standing there with her children and husband, talking to the locals, knowing that Mrs. Underwood was cooking roast beef and Yorkshire pudding in the kitchen at home. Things were beginning to feel right.
“Why don’t you come and have a trim, darling?” suggested Troy. “Your hair’s lovely and shiny, but a few layers would give it more body.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ve never had layers,” she replied, doubtful that anyone other than Robert at Richard Ward could do a proper job.
“Well, come and have a cup of tea in the salon then. Just the three of us.”
“I’d love to. Tomorrow morning?”
“Come as soon as the kids are at school, I haven’t got an appointment until ten.”
“And I don’t open until ten,” Henrietta added.
“I’ll bring some hot croissants from Cate’s, but we’ll have to hide in the back. If she sees us she’ll go mad.”
“Wouldn’t it be simpler to meet in her shop?” said Miranda.
“No!” they replied in unison.
“No,” repeated Troy sourly. “I’ve had a little too much of Cate recently.”
“Why do you carry on seeing her if you don’t like her?” Miranda asked.
“Habit,” Troy replied nonchalantly. “Like drinking too much alcohol—you know it’s not good for you and that you’re going to feel terrible afterward, but it’s part of life.”
David was in high spirits after their sociable morning, promising the children he’d take them to Jeremy’s farm after lunch to play on the tractors. Storm had found a few friends from school and Gus had managed to join in without frightening them. Miranda had had to drag them away promising play dates after school. She was uplifted. With the clear skies and the banquet Mrs. Underwood had cooked she was sure an idyllic afternoon was to follow. Then David appeared in the hall with his bag, announcing that he was going to catch the early afternoon train to London. Miranda was disappointed. Everything had been going so well. Didn’t he want to spend more time with them? What was the hurry? Weren’t the important things in his life here in Hartington? She kissed him good-bye, but his kiss was hasty and he didn’t hold her. These weeks apart were turning them into strangers. She knew she should trust him. She had no reason not to. But a nugget of doubt had started to worry her, like a stone in her shoe. Could he be seeing someone else?
Gus watched his father disappear up the drive in a taxi and felt a sharp stab of disappointment. He had been looking forward to playing on Mr. Fitzherbert’s tractors. Once the car had gone, Storm disappeared inside with their mother. Gus picked up a stone and threw it at an unsuspecting blackbird, then headed for the woods. When he came to the dovecote he stopped. There, nestling in the long grasses was a hedgehog. He crouched down to get a better look. The hedgehog eyed him fearfully. With a finger Gus prodded its face. The hedgehog rolled into a ball. Gus grinned. It would make a good football.