Chapter 3

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Oh, how she had missed the simple pleasures of living in the countryside.

Birdsong, a gentle breeze, the tickle of warm sunshine on the back of her neck, the crunch of gravel underfoot...

Samantha smiled, inhaling the crisp morning air, and walked along the path leading to the village with a spring in her step. Annie was trotting along, soaking up the nature all around her and pushing Mister Meow in a tiny stroller. She wasn't one for dolls and much preferred stuffed toys resembling animals. It had filled Samantha with quiet vindication that her little daughter had never so much as glanced at the expensive dolls her father had bought her on special occasions like birthdays and Christmas or whenever he'd been plagued by a moment of guilt. Lined up in a neat row on a shelf and collecting humungous amounts of dust despite the cleaning lady's daily efforts, the dolls had seemed like a rather eerie symbol. Of what, she didn't know. Of the deterioration of their marriage? Of his absolute disinterest in his own offspring? Of her loveless, orderly life?

Resolutely shoving those memories away, Samantha walked a little slower, letting her eyes roam too. All around them were meadows, occasionally fields with crops she couldn't identify. In the distance was a scattering of farmhouses half-hidden in the slopes and dips of all those gently rolling hills. She could see the main road to the far east, a greyish asphalt snake gleaming in the morning sun and lined by trees. To the south was the village of Hawkshead, idyllically nestled in the South Lakeland area so beloved with tourists from near and far.

Samantha had grown up in a village—a hamlet, really, with a staggering population of roughly 200 and attractions like a market square with a fountain. Although she'd moved around some after her education, traveling from town to town in search of a job that really called to her, the village girl inside her had never died. Which was probably why living in London with Patrick had been such a huge change, not entirely welcome though not exactly unwelcome either.

Although Hawkshead boasted more than twice the population of her tiny hometown, its rural charm with its characterful warren of alleys, quaint cottages, medieval squares and overhanging gables transported her back to her childhood. And she'd come here just at the right time. Annie was old enough to appreciate her surroundings, to profit from running around in the garden, eating homegrown food and escaping the throngs and bustling chaos of England's capital. Patrick would probably have an apoplexy if he knew she was going to enroll their daughter in the local kindergarten and then in the historical Hawkshead Grammar School. But it was none of his business, was it? He'd never cared for what was best for Mary-Ann, only how his daughter—and his wife—would reflect on his reputation and his success in business deals.

And hey, the village school was even famous: Poet William Wordsworth had been educated in it. In fact, he'd dedicated a whole poem to this village, titled The Prelude. Samantha knew because she'd made it a point to learn about Hawkshead before moving here. Big steps worried her, changes too. Going in unprepared wasn't something she would ever risk. Hell, it had taken her months of pondering, bullet-point lists and careful online research to make up her mind about leaving and filing for divorce.

She hadn't always been like this. In fact, she'd been known as the impulsive, temperamental girl, the sassy and daring young woman who never said no to a challenge. So what had happened to make her change? Her unhappy marriage to Patrick had happened.

Stop it, she scolded herself. Why was she allowing the past to cast a shadow over her present? She'd never be able to start afresh if she kept hanging on to her regrets, which in turn led to doubts.

"Sweetheart, can you see the cows?" She patted Annie's arm and pointed her finger at the specks of brown, black and white in a valley nearby.

Her daughter squinted, jumping up and down as if it would give her a better view. "Are they really cows, Mama? Oh great! I wanna look at the cows. Will they go moo? Will they eat all the grass and grow fat?"

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