Page 77 of Loving Jemima

“Fine,” Ellie said.

“And you can tell me all about Jemima so I know where to find her and exact appropriate punishment.”

“No,” Ellie said. “In fact, Jem is completely off limits.”

Because maybe if she tried hard enough she could forget that Jem ever existed.

Chapter Thirty One

Every morning, Jem went out with her mother to ride. For the rest of the day, her mother occupied her with various horse-related tasks. Jem knew that her mother was trying to distract her, but it wasn’t working.

Every time she closed her eyes she could see Ellie’s face.

It was slowly beginning to dawn on her that forgetting Ellie wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought.

It also hadn’t escaped her notice that whenever they were anywhere with other people, Jem’s mother insinuated herself into any conversation anyone tried to have with Jem. It had taken a couple of days to realize that her mother was protecting her, not letting others confront her.

It was strangely touching. Touching because being protected wasn’t a part of who Jem was. And strange because, well, it was her mother, the least maternal person on Earth.

They were bumping along a farm track in her mother’s four wheel drive late one afternoon, going to see a horse for sale, when Jem finally brought it up.

“I’m not china, you know.”

“Did I say you were?” her mother said, wrenching the steering wheel to keep the car on the track.

“I mean, I know you’re trying to get people not to talk to meabout it, but frankly, I’m out now, so at some point someone’s going to say something.”

“And it’s something you’re ready to talk about?” asked her mother sharply.

Jem thought about this. “Yes,” she said, finally, because she might as well get it over with. “So maybe stop turning every conversation into a horse conversation?”

Her mother snorted. “I do not do that.”

“You very much do that.”

“Well, horses are far more interesting than people,” said her mother stoutly. “But if that’s what you wish, then I’ll stop being a mother hen.”

“Not words I would have used to describe you.”

Her mother gave her the side eye and drew up in front of a large stable block. “Amuse yourself while I go and deal with this.”

Jem got out of the car and breathed in the clean country air. She was debating going back to London. But the longer she stayed here, the more her old life seemed to dissipate behind her. She couldn’t hide away forever, she got that, but it was the only plan she had for right now.

As much as she couldn’t forget about Ellie, she suspected being in London would make things a lot harder. Seeing Ellie in every corner of her flat couldn’t be healthy.

“Good lord, there you are!”

Jem turned and groaned. Annabelle. Just when she’d told her mother she didn’t need protecting, along came the one person that she really could use protecting from.

“You know I’ve been calling and calling, but you just don’t pick up,” Annabelle said primly, picking her way through the yard in immaculate wellingtons.

Oh well, she’d said she was ready to be confronted, she supposed a baptism by fire might not be a bad way to get started. “I suppose you’ve heard then?” she said.

Annabelle lifted one beautifully manicured eyebrow. “I should say. And I’m absolutely furious.”

Great. Jem took a breath. “I can understand why this mightcome as a shock,” she began. “But there are certain things that can’t be changed—”

“Good grief,” Annabelle interrupted. “I couldn’t give a fig about you being queer, what I do care about is my reputation.”