Page 25 of The Twilight Garden

‘A little sore.’ It was throbbing and had been for a while.

‘Come on then, let’s get you home.’

He waited while she packed up her laptop, sliding it into her bag along with her reading glasses, notebook and pen. Then, without speaking, he scooped it up and slung it over his shoulder, offering Gemma a hand so she could extricate herself from the table.

She clutched at the walking stick, using it and the back of the chair to lever herself upward, leaving Leo’s hand exactly where it was. She hadn’t put any weight on her foot for several hours now and she was not looking forward to doing so one little bit. She clenched her teeth together and took a deep breath.

‘Steady now…’

Leo was suddenly behind her, both arms ready to provide assistance. How did he even move that fast?

‘Can we not do this?’ she muttered.

‘Do what?’

‘This… acting all solicitous and caring, the cheerful smiling… We’re not married any more.’

Leo raised both hands. ‘Forgive me. I’m little confused, because this, this feels just like old times. So much so it’s hard to tell the difference.’

He walked away, leaving her stranded in the middle of the room. The tearoom door looked about a mile away and she swallowed, closing her eyes in silent reproach. Every painful step was a pen sharply underlining Leo’s words, scoring them deeper into her head where she knew they would sit for hours until the imprint of them eventually faded away.

‘Here, let me get the door for you,’ said Vicky, hurrying around the customer she had just served and pulling the handle hard, causing the bell on top to clang in alarm. ‘Mind how you go.’

‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘For all your help and… the other, too – you know what I mean. I’ll probably see you again soon.’

‘Great. Give my best wishes to Willow and Rowan, won’t you?’

Gemma nodded. ‘Sure.’ She smiled, although her eyes were already on Leo’s car. She had no idea how she would make it that far.

She’d gone no more than two steps, however, when the car door opened and Leo climbed out again, striding across the distance between them. His face was set in a hard expression, his jaw clenched, his eyes anywhere but on her. Yet he offered his arm as he reached her and, bit by painful bit, he shouldered her weight the rest of the way.

He helped her into the car, waited while she did up her seat belt and then pulled slowly away from the kerb. And all of it in complete silence.

Gemma didn’t know the roads well enough yet to recognise exactly where they were, but five minutes into the journey the lack of conversation was beginning to feel almost unbearable. She needed to say something, at least acknowledge his help. She darted a sideways glance at him, enough to see that his jaw was no longer clenched. She opened her mouth to speak.

‘I’m really sorry about June,’ he said, forestalling her.

Gemma’s eyes narrowed to slits as she risked another look at him. His eyes were still firmly on the road. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘I can’t talk about—’ She turned her head away, before whipping it back again. ‘And anyway, who told you? Because whoever it was, they had no right.’ She stared out of the window, gripping the sides of the seat. It felt alarmingly like everything had been ripped out from beneath her. The seconds ticked by, allowing new and equally unwanted thoughts into her head, because in truth there were only two people who could have told Leo about her mum’s death. ‘I don’t believe it.’ She shook her head, cross, although tears weren’t very far behind.

Leo held up a hand. ‘What? You think they were gossiping? Telling me all the salacious details of your life like it was some sort of soap opera and up for discussion? Well, they weren’t, Gemma. Nothing could be further from the truth. So before you go heaping blame on Willow or Rowan, think about the situation from their point of view. Think about the reasons why they might have mentioned that you’d recently suffered a bereavement. Or rather, not you, as in the person with whom I shared a past – they weren’t aware of that – but rather the new person who was coming to live with them. Might it have conceivably been because they were trying to be considerate? To be mindful of how you might be feeling? And so they mentioned it to me so that I might be mindful, too.’ He shook his head. In disgust?

Gemma thought back to Cat’s email and her sage advice. Do not give Leo an inch, she had said.

‘Okay… so I can understand that. It’s the kind of thoughtful thing they would do, but if you wanted to be mindful, maybe not mention it at all? You ought to know how upset I’d be, and how little I’d want to talk about it – especially to you, of all people.’

‘I mentioned it, and that’s all I’m doing. I’m not looking for a discussion, Gemma. It’s not twenty questions. I simply wanted you to know I was sorry. So credit me with a little empathy. You’re a person, just like any of the other people I come across in my daily life. Ones with whom I talk, exchange information, pass the time of day, possibly even share a joke or two. People who, once we’ve got to know one another a little better, might enquire after each other’s health, or continue a discussion that might have been started previously – as in “how’s your foot?” or “did you find anything out today?” I’m not looking to discuss what happened between us years ago, or pick up where we left off. My words are not meant to insinuate anything, neither do they come laden with hidden meaning. I’m just trying to behave like any other normal adult would in the presence of another, a decent human being who, on hearing that someone has lost their mother, would naturally offer their condolences.’

‘Naturally,’ she replied.

Leo’s head whipped around. ‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

Gemma swallowed. She hadn’t meant to sound as sarcastic as she had. ‘So you’re acting like I’m someone you’ve just met because you think that makes it better. But can’t you see that what you’re really doing is pretending none of it happened? How can you do that? Just push it all to one side and never refer to it again.’

‘But you’re the one who reminded me we’re not married any more,’ said Leo, exasperation clear in his voice. ‘You’re the one who said you didn’t want to talk. So which is it, Gemma? How do you want me to behave? Make up your mind, for goodness’ sake, because you can’t have it both ways.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it because it’s painful, don’t you get that? Because I’ve spent a good part of my life trying to forget what happened…’ She paused. ‘No, that’s not right. I won’t ever forget it. But I have tried to make peace with it. And I more or less succeeded. I moved on with my life, and gradually got the pain to the point where I could pretty much ignore it, day-to-day. And now you… you’re here, and everything I’ve tried so hard to put behind me is rising dangerously close to the surface again.’

‘So now you want me to apologise for being here? For having the audacity to be in the same space as you?’