“I can’t,” I replied, taking a sip and discretely spitting it back into the cup. Mair’s tea making was better than her cooking skills but this was a particularly bad brew. “The wedding is right around the corner. I can’t tell her. And what if I did and Mr Hopkin said I was lying? I’d look like a troublemaker. She’d never forgive me. She might not forgive me even if she believed me. It’s always the messenger who gets the worst of it.”
“Well, I would tell her,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I’d have quite a few words for any man who told me what I could or couldn’t do, as well.”
“Honour and obey,” I said dryly, giving her a raised eyebrow.
“Obey? Hardly. Men have it easy enough already without us bending over backwards to tend to their every whim. And they’re not smart, you know. None of them. It’s a wonder any of them can get dressed without a woman’s help. If it’s not their mother’s, it’s their wives. They go from one breast to the other.”
She was getting redder in the face the more she talked, and her already fast speech was quickening with every sentence.
“Oh, they promise you the world, but you let them put a ring on your finger and suddenly they don’t know how to clean up after themselves or make a sandwich. Or they stop you from becoming a nurse because it doesn’t suit them, because God forbid they have to manage for themselves while a woman takes care of business.”
“You’re going to make some lucky man a very miserable husband one day,” I joked. The truth was, although I teased her, I admired her for being so strong-willed in a time when she was expected to shut up and do as she was told. I was sure more women felt the same, even if few were as vocal about it.
“So, are you going to tell me where all this is coming from?” I asked. I put my cup down on the table next to the armchair and raised my foot onto my knee as though preparing for a counselling session.
“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, suddenly busying herself with something in her lap and ignoring my gaze.
“Oh, come on. Don’t make me drag it out of you. I’ve hardly seen you for weeks. You’ve been avoiding me and you’re always busy. Even Mrs Wilkes stopped me in the village to discuss your frequent trips on the omnibus.”
“Mrs Wilkes,” she said, her face filled with disgust, “needs to mind her own business instead of poking her nose into mine.”
“And now,” I continued, “you’re suddenly free for tea and giving me the ‘all men are bastards’ speech. I know something is up. What's his name?”
She slumped back on the chair and let out a sigh. “There was someone,” she said after a moment's pause. “We met at one of the funerals after the accident in the mine.”
“Odd place to meet a man,” I said, and she just glared at me. I held my hands up in apology and fell silent again.
“You know, I actually thought he might be different. We were reacquainted after Christmas and then met a few times more. All was well at first, but then he found out that the cottage was legally Gwyn’s and he lost all interest. Told me today that I didn’t have the prospects he’d expected and that things wouldn’t work.”
“So, what did you do?”
“Well, what could I do? I got the carriage home. What I wanted to do was slap him across his ridiculous face.”
“I’m really sorry, Mair. That’s terrible.”
“Don’t be. Love is a fool's errand. I guess I just became envious of everyone else having it for a moment.” She was attempting to brush it off but as with everything Mair ever felt, the hurt of the situation was written all over her face. “Anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “what of you? Are you still being pig-headed and threatening to leave?”
“Things have been really busy up at the farm and now with the wedding coming up I just keep getting delayed.”
“Rubbish,” she said, setting her cup on the saucer with a loud clink. “You have no obligations here. You and I both know it. You could set off this instant and John and Leah would think no less of you because of it.”
“But I-”
“But nothing. You’re staying because you want to stay. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve grown quite fond of having you in the village so I’m in no rush to see the back of you quite yet, but we both know why you’re staying.”
“Is it that obvious?” I asked. This had quickly turned from a therapy session for Mair into me being forced to admit things to myself I was trying to keep buried.
“Will you just put him out of his misery? I love my brother, but if I have to spend another night seeing him come home with sad eyes while he mopes about the place like an old stray, I might be forced to have some strong words of my own, and we both know how out of character that would be.”
“How much has he told you?” I asked.
“Hardly anything, which, might I add, makes it all so much worse. But I don’t need to understand or know every last detail to know that you’re both playing games that are making you miserable. You can’t keep sneaking around and then saying that you’re still leaving. That’s not fair to either of you. You need to have it out with him and be honest.”
As though he had been waiting outside for the perfect opportunity to barge in, Gwyn swung through the door with a massive smile on his face, bringing our conversation to an abrupt close.
“Receiving guests again, are we?” he said to his sister as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek. He gave me a little wink as he threw his coat over the back of the chair and I felt an immediate knot in my stomach.
“What are you so happy about?” Mair asked. “What have you done?”
“Nothing,” he replied, and another smile spread across his face. “Can’t I just be happy to see my two favourite people? Who wants tea?”
He turned his attention to the stove and I watched as he fussed with the pots. He looked so at home in the kitchen and I imagined what life could have been like if I’d met him in my own time; this crazy wonderful man who had invaded his way into my every thought. We’d never get that chance to know, but we could make something work now, in this time. I wanted to try.
Mair was right.
It was time to stop running.