‘I don’t.’ Nia was crying again now. ‘That’s the problem.’
They talked some more, and in between talking Nia cried. Finally she ran out of tears again, and Diane handed her a tissue.
‘Here—blow.’
She watched as Nia obediently blew, and then, reaching over, took her hand and squeezed it.
‘Right. You get cleaned up, and then I’m taking you out.’
‘Out?’ Nia was startled. ‘No, really, Diane. I can’t go out.’
‘Yes, you can,’ Diane said firmly. ‘You have to face the world at some point, and it might as well be now. Just look outside, Nia. It’s a wonderful world.’ She hugged her. ‘Tom’s coming to pick us up, and then he’s going to take us over to Braemar. Now, go and get dressed.’
Upstairs, the window in the bathroom was ajar. Catching sight of the view across the fields, Nia pushed it open. The sky was calm and clear, and the yellow sun looked as if it had been drawn with a crayon.
She breathed in shakily. The air smelled of damp earth and something else. Something fresh and green.
Spring.
Her eyes snagged on a clump of primroses by the back gate. Diane was right. The world was wonderful. And she was so lucky in so many ways.
Turning on the cold tap, she splashed her face with water and dried it on a towel. She had lost Farlan once and survived. This time she was going to do more than just survive. She was going to make her life better.
In the past, she had believed that making sacrifices meant losing some part of herself; she had thought that was her duty.
Now, though, she knew it was a choice.
She couldn’t be everything to everyone and still be true to herself.
Being with Farlan had given her a glimpse of the life she wanted and the woman she could be, and she was ready now to make the changes she should have made years ago. So she was going to keep running the estate, but she would hire a manager. And stop babysitting her parents.
Diane was waiting by the door. ‘Ready?’
Nia nodded. She wasn’t whole or happy. Not yet. But today she would take the first step towards getting there.
‘Ready,’ she said quietly and, grabbing her coat, she followed Diane to where Tom sat waiting in the car.
They got back after a late lunch in a pub. There had been a few difficult moments, Nia thought as Tom reached the village. Vivid flashes of lunch with Farlan that had made her want to fold in on herself. But she was glad she had gone. Glad that Diane had knocked on her door.
She felt a rush of affection for the Drummonds. They were such good people. They had taken care of her, and they would take care of Farlan.
Her heart beat a little faster.
She could think about him now without crying—just about—and if she could get through the rest of today surely the hardest part would be over.
‘Now, you’re coming back to Lamington for a cup of tea. And I won’t take no for an answer,’ Diane said firmly. ‘We’ll sit in the kitchen. It’s cosier there.’
Nia hesitated. But Diane had been right last time.
The kitchen was bright and warm, as usual. Unusually, the television was on, and Molly wasn’t alone. Johnny and Allan were there too, and Stephen, and Carrie who helped Molly around the house.
Molly was smiling. ‘Lady Antonia, come and watch. It’s Mr Wilder.’
No, no, I can’t.
The words formed soundlessly in her head, panic and pain sweeping over her like a riptide. Her legs felt like wooden batons, but somehow she found herself walking towards the screen.
She recognised the interviewer. Slim, dark-haired and pretty, she was the co-host of an afternoon chat show. She was describing Farlan’s visit to the Picture Palace. There was footage from the opening, and then clips from some of his films and then suddenly they switched back to the studio.