Family For Beginners

To her surprise Todd put his keys and his coat down and walked back to her.

“You’re still okay with this life we chose?”

“Why would you even ask me that?”

“It’s all the talk of Becca probably. She blamed me for making you throw in your glittering career and move out of London to follow my dream.”

“We moved when my father died. We agreed it was the right thing. And anyway, this wasn’t just your dream, it was my dream, too. We were both tired of working hard for other people. And my career wasn’t that glittering.”

“Free shoes and handbags?”

Clare laughed. “Crowded commutes and early morning meetings? And I don’t have much of a need for expensive shoes and purses here. Wellington boots are the order of the day. And this wasn’t an impulsive decision.” They’d talked about it for years before they’d taken the plunge. Every Saturday over a bottle of wine, they’d plotted ways to move back here. “I was born here, remember? You’d never set foot in the Lakes until you met me.”

“A lapse in judgment I will always regret.” He brushed a toast crumb from her cheek with the tip of his finger. “So many missed years.”

She knew that Todd loved the Lakes as much as she did. “Admit it, you married me for my family house.”

“I did. Your mother’s amazing chocolate fudge cake might also have played a part. I’d move across continents for that.” He trailed his finger along her jaw. “You don’t miss London and those days when you used to sit in your glass office with an assistant bringing you coffee?”

“I made my own coffee. And no, I don’t miss it.” She enjoyed making coffee here in her own kitchen. When she was leaning against the range cooker, warming herself in winter, she thought the kitchen might be her favorite room in the house. But then she curled up in the living room with its views across the garden to the lake and decided that was her favorite room. Or maybe her bedroom with its sloping roof and tiny balcony. “I love the life we’ve built

here. It was a shared decision, Todd.” Everything they did was shared. They were a partnership, and she loved that. Until last year, she’d been able to say she had no secrets from Todd. Thanks to Becca that was no longer true. It made her feel tainted.

She could almost hear Becca laughing.

You tell your husband everything? Even your secrets? Oh, Clare! You should live a life full of delicious secrets and scandal.

Clare couldn’t think of anything more exhausting.

“Stop frowning.” Todd rubbed his finger across her forehead. “If it’s going to stress you having Jack and the kids, I’ll call him and make an excuse.”

“No! I don’t want you to do that.” But the fact that he would have done it made her feel warm and loved. “I want to see them, I really do.”

“Then what?” He stroked her hair away from her face. “I know you and Becca had been friends forever, but I often thought you were growing apart. I hadn’t realized that losing her would affect you this way.”

“What makes you think we were growing apart?” And her own mother had said much the same thing.

“You two were very different people. How your friendship endured for so long I don’t know. You seemed to have so little in common, but of course you and Becca were bonded virtually from birth so perhaps longevity was the glue.” Todd kissed her and walked to the door, retrieving his coat and keys on the way. “Jack is moving on, and maybe when you see that you’ll be able to move on, too.”

Would it be that simple? She truly hoped so.

After he left, she grabbed her jacket and walked along the narrow path that led from the lodge to the boathouse. This section of the lake was densely wooded, the only sounds the soft lap of the lake against the shore, a chorus of birdsong and the insistent drumming of a woodpecker. Her jeans protected her from the sharp sting of nettles and the bite of insects and the sounds washed over her along with a sense of peace. Never, not once, had she considered it a mistake to move back here. She was in her element. She was aware that others might see it as a small life, but she saw it as a rich life. More importantly, it was the life she wanted.

They’d had an unusually dry spell, so all she had on her feet was running shoes. She breathed in air sweetened by the scents of summer and her heart lifted a little as the boathouse came into view. Splintered planks and spiders’ webs had been replaced by Lakeland stone, cedar and acres of glass. Todd had worked on the conversion, using locally sourced materials and extending it to provide luxury accommodation while still retaining the charm of the original building. The project had attracted attention from first the local press and then a Sunday magazine, providing a publicity boost that Todd had needed.

When he’d left the large architecture practice he’d worked for in London to set up on his own in the Lake District, Clare had been nervous but apart from the nagging worry about income, it had been a positive move. Aiden settled easily into his new school, and Clare discovered that she loved the slower pace of life.

This was her favorite time of day, early in the morning. The air was fresh and clean, the only sounds the call of the birds and the occasional splash of water against the shore.

Boulders framed the edge of this section of the lake, some shiny and smooth, others rough and ragged, the surface roughened by wind and water. Clare had stood on those slabs as a child, shivering with excitement and fear as her father had urged her to jump into the clear water. She’d seen tiny fish darting and a tangle of weed and then she’d plunged and gasped as the ice-cold lake water closed over her skinny body.

The place held nothing but good memories and they seeped under her skin, diluting some of those nastier feelings.

Stepping inside the place gave her a holiday feeling. It was furnished for the top end of the rental market, a place where people could either continue their life of luxury or find it for a few weeks.

It was nothing like Todd and Clare’s own house. Real life didn’t happen in this place. There were no muddy hiking boots strewn in the entryway ready to trip up the unwary, no gouges on the table, weatherproof jackets, or school bags. No reminder of jobs to be done. Everything, from the art on the walls to the hand-carved wooden sculpture, had been carefully curated.

She opened the glass doors that led to the balcony, noticing that the previous occupants had moved the furniture. They’d been honeymooners and had barely emerged from the boathouse all week, captivated by the romance of the place.