Page 26 of The Twilight Garden

‘I didn’t say that.’

‘Did you need to? Jesus, Gemma.’ Leo’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Gemma practically growled. ‘See, this is what happens when you’re around, these stupid arguments. But this is not me, Leo. I am not like this. I’m not normally sarcastic, and rude, and… I don’t know, combative. But you make me feel so…’ She clenched her fist. ‘Childish…’ she finished lamely. Childish. That’s exactly how she felt. Just as she had all those years ago. Trouble was, back then she didn’t know any better.

‘I think that’s what’s commonly referred to as a you problem and not a me problem. And in case you need reminding, I was here first. I’ve been at the farm for months. Willow and Rowan are my friends… And now you come waltzing in and what, I’m supposed to leave because you can’t handle it? Well, sorry, that’s not going to happen. I don’t need to know why you’re here. Because telling me will involve details about the last few years of your life which I’ve obviously been no part of. And I really don’t want to know. We went our separate ways. We stayed our separate ways. You lived your life and I lived mine. But as for acting as if it never happened, if that’s what you think I’m doing then… then you really do have no idea. But fine. You do you and I’ll do me, and I’ll try very hard to keep those two things separate. My apologies, however, if, on the odd occasion, I do need to speak to you. I can see how awful that must be for you.’

10

MARCH

In the bleak midwinter,

Frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron,

Water like a stone

​— ​CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

February slipped into March, and as if to prove a point that winter was still firmly with them, Gemma woke to the sound of a fierce downpour hurling itself against her window. She groaned and pulled the duvet higher, burrowing her head into her pillow.

Her alarm had already gone off twice and the last time she had silenced it with a vicious stab. So she knew what time it was. Just as she knew that everyone else had been up for a good while already, getting on with their chores while she was still only able to do the bare minimum – hobbling around, unable to stand for any length of time – and so, consequently, not even able to help Willow, or make a start on the garden. Guilt and apathy, however, were not good bedfellows and she groaned again, throwing back the covers.

By the time she had dressed, the rain had eased slightly, but the air hung thick with it, bleak and cold. And the view nowhere to be seen. She tutted and turned for the door.

The kitchen was empty when Gemma entered, and she gathered mugs from the table, a stray plate and the coffee pot and took them over to the sink to wash. Then she returned to the table and, using the cupped palm of one hand, swept the crumbs from it into the other and shook them into the sink. She adjusted her weight from one foot to the other and turned on the tap, just as she had done countless times over the last few days.

Hearing the door close behind her, she turned, expecting to see Willow’s sunny smile. Instead, it was Rowan, shrugging off a dripping jacket and shaking his head like a dog.

‘That’s the third time I’ve been soaked this morning,’ he said. ‘My timing is spectacular. The moment I get to the furthest point away from shelter…’ He motioned a downpour with his hands before taking off his glasses and wiping them on the bottom of his jumper. ‘Can’t bloody see either.’

‘Would you like a coffee?’ asked Gemma. ‘I was about to wash the pot but I can easily make another.’

‘That would be very welcome, thank you. It’s hard work without Leo helping, so I thought I might wait until he’s back.’ He grinned. ‘It’s as good an excuse as any.’

‘Will he be away for long?’ she asked lightly. She hadn’t seen him since their ‘discussion’.

‘Tomorrow, I think,’ replied Rowan. ‘He’s on-site with another customer for a few days, preparing a quote.’

‘So his business is doing well then?’

Rowan sat down at the table. ‘At long last, it seems to be. I thought we were pretty visionary, but the difference between us is that we only have ideas. Leo is the one who makes them happen.’

Gemma turned away, busying herself with the kettle and a mug. It seemed odd to hear people talk about Leo in this way. Odd, and distinctly unsettling. Being in a supportive role had never been his strong point in the past.

Some minutes later, when Rowan had drained the last of his coffee and Gemma had pretended to tidy up some more, he stretched as if his limbs had been curled into a tight ball for days.

‘Ah, that’s better. Right…’ He paused, and Gemma could feel the weight of an unspoken question. She held out her hand for his mug, but he pulled it back from her at the last moment. ‘Would you like to make some bread? You deserve to be doing something more exciting than clearing away our mess.’

‘Yes, if it helps.’

‘Or if you’d like to make it,’ countered Rowan.

She smiled, by now used to having her comments ‘adjusted’ by Rowan’s good-natured teasing.

‘I know, I just don’t feel like I’m being much use at the moment,’ she replied.