‘I know, right?’ I giggle. What Zach lacks in gardening skills he more than makes up for in appearance. He’s rolled up the sleeves of his T-shirt which now sit tightly over his strong arms and frankly, I am very much here for it.
‘I think we deserve a break,’ I say later. Zach straightens up, wiping his forehead with his left arm.
‘We?’ He scoffs. ‘Pretty sure you’ve spent the afternoon sunbathing!’
‘I prefer to use the term “art directing”,’ I grin. ‘Lemonade?’
‘Because today couldn’t get any more British?’
‘Hmm, it is all quite quintessential isn’t it?’ Gardening, strawberries, lemonade. I’m still clutching a bunch of runner beans. ‘I might as well stick on some cottagecore while we run through the Peaks, Jane Austen-style.’
‘Cottagecore?’ Zach’s eyebrows shoot up in confusion.
‘It’s a fashion thing. Long, blowy dresses with cute paisley prints. Perhaps I should have included something Italian to make you feel less like you’ve stepped intoLast of the Summer Wine.’
‘I don’t ever like to be too far away from an espresso or a gelato,’ he teases.
‘I can hear the Italian coming through,’ I say, melting like a gelato at his delicious pronunciation.
‘That’s my Nonna for you. Once Dad moved back to Italy Raff and I would spend our summer holidays over there with him and our grandma … I remember counting down the days until summer term ended. We’re still really close with her now and she loves a video call. Last time I spoke to her she’d found my childhood teddy in a cupboard she was going through – hang on, that’s embarrassing. I definitely didn’t have a teddy growing up.’
I laugh at that. ‘Finally! I’ve been hoping for some balance ever since that picture of me as a kid emerged.’
‘Darth?’
‘Shut up.’
We’re back on the deckchairs sipping lemonade and I snuggle into Zach, his familiar scent mixed with strawberries. A day in the garden has cleared my mind of all its usual hang-ups and I feel so peaceful, listening to his heart beat.
The sun’s dipping behind one of Sheffield’s many hills and the fairy lights I strung up along my potting shed start to glow.
‘All the colours of the rainbow,’ Zach smiles. ‘It sounds like you got your love of colour from your mum.’
I’d told him earlier how Mum was a magpie for anything bright. She’d worked as an interior designer and was never happier than when she was pottering though vintage shops, hunting for treasures. As a result, our house was a riot of colour and an absolute mish-mash of styles. A squishy pink sofa from the sixties sat next to a blue velvet armchair in the living room, we ate our meals off bird of paradise plates, my muddy wellies stood next to a clementine-coloured coat stand in the hallway. ‘The walls must stay white!’ she’d insisted. ‘Let the furniture do the talking.’ I think that’s one of the reasons we’d been able to sell the house, after she died. It would be years before we’d dig her furniture out again, but that’s where her joyfulness lived.
‘I finally unwrapped the bird of paradise plates,’ I say to Zach now. ‘Not that long ago, actually. They’re in my house and I think of her every time I eat. I imagine her approval if I’m tucking into something nutritious, or the maternal tut if I’m eating instant noodles for dinner. Meanwhile Dad now spends most of his evenings stretched out on the pink sofa.’
‘It sounds like you’re in a good place, Alice.’
I pause at that, realising that I am. Zach’s legs are stretched out beyond his deckchair and I’ve twisted to rest mine on his. Paper cups filled with lukewarm lemonade gently fizz at our sides. His arm is still around the back of my neck. Instinctively we rest our heads together, our hands linking as we sit side by side. I let my eyes close and enjoy the feeling of real happiness washing over me as we kiss.
Happy Hour
Zach
Alice is leaning against the kitchen counter in her tropical palm print pyjamas. The coffee machine is whirring into life and the smell of cinnamon buns wafts from the oven. I pause in the doorway, not wanting to disturb her while I take in every moment of this scene. It’s easy, happy, relaxed … so many of the things I’ve yearned for over the years. I was really chuffed that Alice opened up to me yesterday at the allotment. It can’t have been easy to talk about her mum the way she did. Knowing her background and understanding how much she’d had to overcome at such a young age has helped me to fit together some of the missing pieces from her jigsaw puzzle. Now I understand why she’s kept love at arm’s length. Because she’s afraid. She’s seen how easily love can tear you apart and she’s protecting herself. Those barriers of hers are there for a good reason.
I remain a firm believer in love, though. And finding out that Alice has such a big heart makes me even more hopeful that there will be room for me in it.
She spots me standing in the doorway and pads over, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.
‘Good morning.’
‘Good morning. Your bed felt very empty without you in it so I came down to investigate.’
‘I am pleased about that,’ she says. ‘It’s not often I have a man wearing nothing but his boxers in my kitchen.’
‘And I am pleased about that,’ I laugh.
