Read Chapter 21: THE WINTER LIST

By November, Bellwether had survived long enough for Maeve to become superstitious about saying so.

The roof held. Online sales paid for a part-time assistant named Aisling, a postgraduate student who knew more about contemporary poetry than Maeve and considered alphabetical shelving a colonial imposition. The Thursday evening readings rarely made money directly but filled the shop. Nora’s old customers complained about the new card reader and used it anyway.

Maeve began a winter list in the green ledger.

Things Bellwether needs:

1. Better heating. 2. Website that does not look built during the Celtic Tiger. 3. Stock system. 4. More chairs. 5. To stop pretending events are temporary accidents.

Things I need:

She stared at the second heading.

For months she had practised answering immediate questions. Do you want dinner? Yes. Are you upset? Yes. Do you need help? Sometimes.

Longer wants were harder.

Julian had not pushed.

That itself became a problem.

One Friday evening, they were eating in his flat after Lucy had gone to bed. Julian mentioned that his landlord planned to sell when the lease ended the following summer.

“I’ll have to start looking after Christmas,” he said.

Maeve’s fork paused.

“Where?”

“Somewhere around here if I can afford it. Lucy’s school, Trinity, Sarah’s place. Geography rules my life.”

Maeve nodded.

A clear want arrived, terrifying in its simplicity.

She wanted him nearer.

Bellwether’s upper flat had two bedrooms. Maeve had been living there alone. Julian stayed several nights a week, but they maintained separate homes without discussing why.

The words formed in her mouth and died.

Julian continued talking about rental prices.

Maeve heard Thomas: If there is another life, I hope I am less careful in it.

There was no other life available for practice.

“You could move in with me,” she said.

Julian stopped.

The kitchen became extremely quiet.

Maeve immediately wanted to qualify it.

Temporarily. If convenient. No pressure. Financially sensible.

She forced herself not to.

Julian put down his fork.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Or are you solving my housing problem?”

Maeve glared. “I hate that you know to ask that.”

“It’s relevant.”

She took a breath.

“I want you to live with me. I want Lucy to have a room that is hers when she stays. I want to complain about your books taking over the stairs. I want us to have an argument about groceries that lasts less than forty-eight hours because neither of us can flee to another postcode.”

Julian’s expression softened into something almost painful.

“That is alarmingly specific.”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“I can tell.”

“But I don’t want you to say yes because your lease is ending.”

“Good.”

“Good?”

“Because I’m not answering tonight.”

Maeve stared.

A flash of rejection moved through her.

Julian reached across the table and took her hand.

“You got months to decide you wanted to ask. I get more than twelve seconds to decide whether moving my daughter into your home part-time is right for all of us.”

Maeve exhaled.

“That is fair.”

“I do want to say yes emotionally.”

“Dangerous phrase.”

“Very. But Sarah and Lucy need to be part of the practical discussion.”

Maeve squeezed his hand.

She was surprised to discover that uncertainty did not erase the courage of asking.

The next afternoon, Lucy came to the shop.

Julian had apparently told her only that he might move when his lease ended.

Lucy sat behind the counter drawing on scrap paper.

“Would you hate living upstairs sometimes?” Maeve asked.

Lucy looked up.

“Here?”

“Yes.”

“With Dad?”

“Yes.”

“Would I get the room with the sloped ceiling?”

“If you wanted it.”

“Can I paint it?”

Maeve thought of Nora’s pale wallpaper.

“What colour?”

“Yellow.”

Maeve swallowed.

“Yes.”

Lucy narrowed her eyes. “Dad said I’m not supposed to answer yet.”

Maeve laughed. “Your father is right.”

“I like it when adults say that because it almost never happens.”

On Monday, Sarah asked Maeve to coffee.

“I’m not interviewing you,” she said immediately.

“That is exactly what an interviewer says.”

Sarah smiled. “Fair. Lucy’s excited. Julian’s terrified.”

“Good. Balance.”

“Are you?”

“Yes.”

“Also good.” Sarah stirred her coffee. “Then I only have one practical request. Lucy needs to know the flat remains home for her even if your relationship has a bad week.”

Maeve felt the seriousness under the words.

“Of course.”

“No. Not of course. Adults say of course about things they haven’t planned.”

Maeve respected her for that.

“All right. If Julian and I ever split after he moves in, we don’t make Lucy disappear overnight. We work out a transition with you. She gets to say goodbye to the room and the shop and me in a way that makes sense.”

Sarah’s shoulders lowered.

“Thank you.”

Maeve realised with a quiet shock that she had just discussed the possible end of a relationship without using the possibility as an argument against beginning the next stage.

When Julian came to Bellwether that evening, she told him.

He kissed her and said, “Yes.”

“Because Sarah approved?”

“Because I wanted to say yes before Sarah approved.”

Maeve smiled.

In the green ledger, beneath Things I need, she wrote:

A home that can survive being discussed.