Page 29 of The Twilight Garden

‘It has,’ agreed Gemma. ‘And not just because of the scones. I guess I’m in a similar position to you. New home, new start, kind of a car crash of a life before then…’ She smiled. ‘When would you like to meet up next?’

‘How about Thursday? I don’t work, so the days all just blur into each other. Any day’s a good day.’

Gemma caught the tone in her voice. She didn’t want to pry, but it did seem as if Ashley wasn’t too happy about her stay-at-home status. ‘Maybe you could find some part-time work if you’re bored being at home all day. Or even try some volunteering?’

Ashley shrugged. ‘And do what? I’m not really qualified for anything. I met Simon when I was very young and I’ve never really worked.’ She smiled, but her expression was closed and Gemma knew not to push it any further.

‘Thursday sounds great. Shall we do the same time again?’

‘Perfect, I’ll pick you up then.’

Ten minutes later, Gemma climbed from Ashley’s car and watched as she did a loop of the yard in front of the farmhouse before turning onto the track. Then she waved before making her way slowly back to the house. With any luck Willow would be there. And she’d just had the most brilliant idea.

11

Gemma had one hand on the kitchen door when it suddenly opened wide and she nearly fell through the gap, oomphing in surprise as Leo caught her. She struggled to right herself, wincing as her laptop bag swung forward off her shoulder and she inadvertently put all her weight on her bad ankle.

‘God, Gemma, I’m sorry. Are you okay?’

She nodded. ‘My fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

‘I doubt that. Unless you can see through doors, that is.’

‘No, but…’ She stopped, trying to avoid his eyes, which were alarmingly close. ‘My head was somewhere else.’ She hobbled backward, putting space between them. ‘I thought Rowan said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow.’

‘Well, that was the plan, but things didn’t quite go the way I wanted them to.’

She caught the edge of frustration in his voice. ‘With the customer, you mean?’

He nodded. ‘You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make them drink. Isn’t that what they say?’ He was aiming for light and nonchalant, but didn’t quite make it. There was too much anxiety flicking around his eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘That must be tough.’

He shrugged. ‘It is what it is.’

Yet you don’t believe that, she thought. You’ve always been the same. Never quite saying what you mean. Never quite owning up to how you feel. Hadn’t that always been the problem? She stepped to one side.

‘Sorry, you were on your way out.’

He smiled. ‘Just getting some tools from the storeroom.’

She watched him go, conscious that she had planned to apologise the next time she saw him, but not really knowing how to start the conversation. She would wait. It wasn’t as if there was any rush.

Willow was nowhere to be seen as she entered the kitchen, but just as she had predicted, Rowan was already there, making a start on the preparations for dinner.

‘Can I help?’ she asked, hanging up her coat and bag.

He turned to greet her with a smile. ‘There are vegetables to peel,’ he said. ‘But it’s not compulsory.’

She picked up the chopping board and carried it to the table. ‘Pile me up then,’ she said. ‘What are we having?’

‘Stewp,’ he replied. ‘A local delicacy…’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Never heard of it. Go on, explain.’

‘So it’s pink firs, nantes, some fagioli di spagna, conchiglie… and naturally a few select herbs and seasonings…’ He grinned at her. ‘Or, in other words, potatoes, carrots, butter beans, pasta… It’s a kind of minestrone soup but beefier, as in bigger, not with beef in it, obviously… bit like a stew.’

‘Stewp,’ she muttered, shaking her head in amusement. ‘A cross between stew and soup… I can’t believe I fell for that.’