We spend the next hour sweeping and cleaning, until the newkitchen-diner is less of a building site.
‘Need a beer?’ I ask, as we stand back to admire our efforts.
He grins at me, his eyes crinkling attractively at thecorners. ‘That would be great. Shall we drink it outside? I could do with somefresh air.’
‘Yes, of course. Listen, I can’t thank you enough fororganising this for me.’
He shrugs. ‘Rich owed me a favour. And a beer will be amplereward.’
Pulling open the fridge, I take out a couple of bottles,then I pause to study what I’ve got in to eat. ‘I could make some food ifyou’re hungry?’
‘Oh. Well...’ He hesitates, taking thebeer with a smile.
‘Pasta? There’s a yummy tomato and basil sauce, and I couldadd some chorizo sausage and parmesan?’
‘Sounds great. Thanks. As long as I’m not putting you out.’
‘No, of course you’re not.’ I turn away smiling, my heartbeating a little faster. I was hoping he’d say yes. But only because I couldreally do with the company after my bewildering discoveries upstairs. No otherreason...
I put the pasta on to boil and Liam wanders out into theback garden with his beer. When I go out to join him, he’s standing by Mum’sold vegetable bed, examining it curiously.
‘This has been tended fairly recently,’ he says, turning asI approach and taking a swig of beer from his bottle.
‘Has it?’ I look more closely.
‘If it had been growing wild for years, it would be a tangleof weeds, but someone’s been at work here fairly recently, I reckon.’
I nod. He’s right, of course. Why didn’t I notice thatmyself?
‘So... that means Dylan must have...’I trail off. Thinking of Dylan being here, planting vegetables, while all thetime I thought he was away travelling abroad makes me feel weirdlylight-headed.
‘Dylan?’ Liam looks at me, puzzled. ‘But I thought youdidn’t know where he’d gone?’
‘I... didn’t. But I’ve found evidence thatsuggests he might have come here, to Sycamore House, when he left, and he wasprobably living here up until I put the house on the market.’ I shruguselessly. ‘I’ve no idea where he is now, though. He’s vanished again.’
I slump down onto the garden bench. Tears are burning myeyes but I’m determined not to break down in front of Liam.
Remembering the pasta, I jump up. ‘Oh, bugger, the pan willhave boiled dry!’ I race inside and Liam follows, but thankfully, I manage torescue it and drain it before it turns into a horrible squidgy mush. I quicklychop some chorizo and Liam fries it while I heat the tomato and basil sauce andgrate some parmesan to sprinkle over the pasta.
Then we grind lots of black pepper on top and take our bowlsoutside and sit on the bench to eat it.
‘This is great, thank you,’ murmurs Liam, in between bites.‘I’ve had nothing since a ham sandwich at twelve.’
‘Crikey, you must have been starving. I’ve got the remainsof a cheesecake for afters if you fancy it?’
He grins. ‘Perfect. As long as it doesn’t have pineapple onit. I hate pineapple.’
‘No pineapple,’ I reassure him with a smile.
We concentrate on our pasta for a while. It feels easy andrelaxed, though, not awkward at all. It’s starting to get dark now and an owlhoots occasionally in a nearby tree.
Liam is first to break the silence.
‘So... what happened with you and Dylan,anyway?’ he asks softly.
I look at him and shrug. ‘It’s a long story.’
‘I’ve got the time,’ he murmurs.
