Bev squeezes my hand. ‘Oh, I did hope you’d say that. You can allow yourself to be excited, then!’
I smile and cry a bit too. ‘I don’t think Shelby will be pleased, though,’ I venture. ‘How am I going to tell him?’ And, just as importantly, how am I going to tell Lucas? I’m absolutely sure he won’t be thrilled either.
‘Wait until he comes back at Christmas,’ Bev says. ‘This is not an “over the phone” kind of thing. It will give you some breathing space to think and make some plans.’
‘Yes, yes. You’re right.’
She gives me her concerned face. ‘Everything is OK between you guys?’
‘I don’t know,’ I confess. ‘We’ve hardly seen each other, especially since he’s been in Birmingham.’
‘How was the panto?’
‘Fun,’ I say. ‘No, actually it was awful.’ I don’t tell Bev that Shelby was largely unavailable to us. ‘Not really my kind of thing.’
‘I didn’t think so. But Shelby is enjoying it?’
‘He seems to be in his element.’ I get a vision of the young stars hanging on his every word and have a pang of jealousy.
‘He’ll come round to the idea of a baby.’ Bev sounds more certain than I am. ‘I’ll be an aunty twice over! Yay! I’m looking forward to it already.’
Once I’m over the initial shock, I think I will be too. But it saddens me to say that part of me is aware that, somehow, someway, Shelby is slipping away from me.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Back at the farm, Bev runs through the plans for the open day while I try to pretend that my world hasn’t turned upside down. My friend has printed out leaflets advertising the Christmas Open Day to put around the village. She volunteers me and the Hot Mayor for the job. Perhaps she appreciates that I need a bit of time out from the students to gather my scattered thoughts.
After lunch, she hands us both bundles of paper. There’s a cartoon drawing of our alpacas at the top and all the details of the event. ‘Stick them on lamp posts, ask the shops and pub if they’ll put them up.’
Both Matt and I nod obediently.
‘Lucas and I are going to start teaching the kids a song, maybe two. God help us.’
I think I’m glad to be putting up posters. Matt and I wrap up and set off down the lane together. The sky is milky, soft, but there’s a fierce chill in the air and I wonder if we’ll have snow this year, a white Christmas. The walk into the village is bracing, but helps to clear my head.
‘Everything OK?’ Matt says.
‘Fine,’ I assure him.
‘You seem a bit quiet.’
‘A lot on my mind. With the open day and that. Bev discussed her plans with me this morning. There’s so much to take in.’ I can’t share with him what’s really going on in my life. It’s too new, too raw, too frightening. I can’t tell anyone – except Bev – until I’ve shared it with Shelby and with Lucas. Though I have the feeling that Matt would understand.
We stop at a lamp post in the village and Matt gets first dibs on fixing his poster to it.
When we walk again, he says, ‘The scenery is all finished and ready to put up. Is there anything else that you’d like me to do?’
‘We should gather some holly with the kids,’ I say. ‘That would look nice around the farmyard, but there’s nothing specific. There are a couple of holly trees in the fields that we can trim.’
‘I’ve got tomorrow off too,’ Matt says, ‘But I need to go back to work after that. I can’t put it off any longer.’
‘Ah.’ I turn to him. ‘I’ve been dreading this,’ I admit. ‘It’s been great having you around.’
‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily,’ he laughs. ‘This has been a godsend to me, Molly. I was feeling a bit lost and lonely. Don’t get me wrong, it’s great being mayor – an honour – but when all the shaking hands and cutting ribbons has finished, I go home to an empty flat. I’ve been looking for something but I didn’t know what. I feel that coming here has given me purpose again.’
‘That’s lovely.’
‘So I’ll be here every weekend, evenings if you want me and I can spend some of my holiday time here too.’
‘Whatever time you can spare will be greatly appreciated. You’ll definitely be here for the open day?’
‘I’m one of the turns,’ he reminds me. ‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’
‘I can’t decide if it will be fabulous or a total car crash. This is a big thing for our students. I have everything crossed that it goes well.’
Our next stop is the village shop and the new owner agrees to put the poster in the window. He says that he can’t come as the shop will be open, but is sure his wife and daughter would like a chance to come along to the farm. We have a standing invitation for the people of our village to visit us, but few take us up on the offer. I think Bev is right that an organised event will be more of a draw and it will be nice to meet some of the people who live here properly and on my own turf.
Before we move on Matt pauses and turns to me. ‘I hope we’ve become good friends, Molly. I’d like to think so.’
‘We have. Definitely.’
‘You’re very easy company.’
‘I’m not. I’m socially awkward, a bit of a loner, a misfit. I struggle to make friends, yet we got on instantly. So this is very different for me. I really enjoy your company.’
‘We should form a mutual admiration society,’ he quips, but there’s a serious look in his eyes. ‘Shelby is a very lucky man.’
Perhaps. I’m not sure how lucky he’ll feel when I tell him that he’s going to be a father again. Would he really want a small child in tow? His relationship with Lucas isn’t easy; I wonder whether he’ll view it as a chance to do it all over and get it right this time or whether he’ll want to run for the hills. Does it show how little I know the real Shelby, that I have no idea how he’ll react to my news?
Chapter Fifty-Seven
When we get back to the farm, preparations for the open day are in full flow. Bev has taken the students out to gather holly and now they’re knee-deep in it. There’s also a basket full of pine cones from the woods that border our property. Anna is here showing them how to twist the holly into wreaths and garlands, threaded with the cones.
‘Some of these are good enough to sell.’ Bev holds up a particularly attractive specimen of glossy, dark green leaves heavy with the most scarlet of berries.
‘That’s beautiful.’
‘Lottie’s handiwork. We have some very talented crafters here,’ Bev says while Lottie puffs up with pride. ‘I’m going to turn her into a wreath-making machine. What do you think we’d get for them? A fiver?’
‘I think that would be worth five pounds of anyone’s money.’
‘We are going to be swimming in cash after this,’ Bev says, happily. ‘Trust me.’
‘Anything I can do?’