Finding Betsy (Betsy Jones Book 2)

Finding Betsy - Chapter 5

"I'm done. I can't do anymore," Betsy said to the empty room, pushing down the lid to her work laptop with more force than required.

Closing her eyes briefly, she rolled her shoulders to release the tension which had built during the hours hunched over her desk. The working week had passed by in a blur of planning and meetings. While necessary, paperwork and bureaucracy were the most tedious parts of her job. It kept things moving and ensured that procedures were followed. It also ensured the kids received the support they received. Unfortunately, it took three times as long to write up a report than the actual mentoring sessions meaning only a third of her day was spent doing her actual job.

And that didn't include the additional forms and contracts finding their way into her inbox. She hadn't even agreed to expanding her role within the charity but her manager was already acting like it was a done deal. It almost made her want to refuse in petty protest.

Betsy pushed her chair back from the desk, the wheels beneath her squeaking in protest, before she rubbed at her eyes. It was already darkening outside and she was alone in an office which usually seated five others. Betsy vaguely recalled one of her colleagues waving to her as he had left for the day. She had been so consumed with getting the notes typed up, Betsy wasn't sure if she had even acknowledged the gesture. A batch of Mrs Reed's cupcakes would soothe over any ill-feeling. Her cooking could do wondrous things.

Sighing loudly, Betsy pulled the hair tie from around her wrist and attempted to pull her riotous blonde curls into some sort of order. Then she straightened her blouse. And smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt. It did nothing to stop the knot forming in her stomach as her eyes flitted up to the clock hanging on the wall.

She wanted nothing more than to go straight home to Nick and the kids. There would be no judgment. Nick would give her the look. The one which conveyed all of his unspoken questions but he would let it slide if she asked him to.

And yet, she couldn't do it. Nick may not judge her for bailing on her commitments but she would judge herself.

Grabbing her bag from the floor, Betsy made her way out of the office. A few doors remained open on the hallway, the sounds of shuffling paper and the occasional muttering spilling out of the open thresholds. Unwilling to be side tracked, Betsy strode quickly past them all and out into the cool autumn evening.

The air was crisp. The skies were clear and surprisingly light for the time of year. Betsy knew that within a few weeks she would be leaving work in complete darkness. Still, she drew in a deep breath of fresh air and enjoyed the brief reprieve from the dreary weather.

It took just five minutes in her car to arrive at the small parish church. Large stained glass windows were set into weather stained stone. It stood guard over a small graveyard whose most recent addition was in the eighteen hundreds. Trees were interspersed through the grounds, swaying and groaning in the brisk autumn breeze.

Stepping through the rickety wooden gate, Betsy shivered. There was something morbid about having a meeting of survivors surrounded by the dead.

A small winding path cut through the headstones, illuminated by the harsh security lights which triggered as she stepped near. Carefully following the moss slicked path, Betsy headed towards a small very square building that had been nestled at the edge of the land. Wind whipped around her legs, pulled at the edges of her coat. The trees rustled in answer. Glancing around, Betsy tried to ignore the anxiety trying to force its way to the forefront as she clutched her jacket closer to her body.

The inside of the building greeted her with a rush of warm air. It carried with it the scent of cheap instant coffee and cheap pastries. Rubbed absently at her aching leg, Betsy let the door close behind her with a soft click. A circle of fold up chairs had been set up in the middle of the church hall. A group of men and women, young and old, gathered near a pop up table of refreshments. Most of the faces were familiar but there were a few people hanging at the back. There was quiet chatter as they busied themselves with the condiments.