Page 74

“What’s all this?” I ask, eyeing up an echeveria and a houseleek, both of which always remind me of an alien life form when they start to flower.

Alice looks nervous. She finally speaks as if she’s been gearing herself up all morning. “I hope you don’t mind, but I went to the garden centre yesterday and spoke to a very nice guy called Ian who helped me choose some new plants for the garden. I had no idea what to get and still have no clue what half these things are, but he assured me, after I described the garden to him, that these plants would thrive here and also look good at the same time. But I don’t know where to put them, so I thought you could help.”

It has to be the grief—that’s the only reason why I feel on the verge of tears as I look at Alice in her new-looking raincoat and a pair of pristine gardening gloves that are way too big for her dainty hands.

“You went plant shopping on your day off?” is all I manage.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“And you brought all this in this morning?”

“Actually, no, I dropped it off yesterday on my way back from the garden centre. I thought it would be easier and would save me rushing this morning.”

“You came into work on your day off?” I feel like I’m grilling her with all these questions, but I can’t quite get my head around what she’s done and, more to the point, why she’s done it.

“I wasn’t working. I didn’t speak to any customers about handles or bevelled edges. I just nipped in here and dropped everything in, ready for today,” she explains.

As if on cue, a light drizzle descends and settles on the fine bits of Alice’s hair. She tugs her hood up.

“You called it,” she says, looking up at the sky. “This can wait if you want. I brought a trowel as I didn’t know if you had one out here, and I also brought some scissors to tidy up some of the shrubs. I’m no good with planting. I’ve no idea what to put where, so….”

Her voice trails off, and she looks incredibly cute under her hood, but she also looks worried because my face could be doing anything right now. I might look angry or sad. I might even look thoroughly pissed off. I’ve no idea what my eyes and mouth are doing because, inside, I’m a jumble of emotions.

“Come on. I’ll show you where to put these, and we can do it together,” I manage.

Her face softens.

We get to work, silently adding the new greenery to the garden as the drizzle waters everything.

Rain drips off the rim of Alice’s hood. I feel the damp creeping into the tops of my shoes, but it doesn’t matter about the rain.

It doesn’t matter at all, because there’s a flicker of warmth inside me that I haven’t felt in a very long time.

44

Owen

“Where’s Alice?” is the first thing Darcy asks when I walk through the front door of Smithy’s house on Thursday evening.

The girls were great on Saturday. They’d obviously been prepped by Smithy and Romana, but as inquisitive children are, they still had their questions, which I didn’t mind.

I don’t want Paul to be a sore topic or a conversation killer. I don’t want him to fade into the background as if he never existed.

They asked me if he was in doggy heaven, and I said he was, even though I know it’s not true, as I didn’t want to break their hearts at such a young age. Then they asked me what doggy heaven looked like, and I explained that it might look different for each dog depending on what their favourite thing was. Paul’s favourite things were to play ball, sunbathe, curl up in front of the fire, eat cheesecake, and snuggle under blankets.

“Do you think they have cheesecake in doggy heaven?” Dana had asked, and I told her, yes, they have plenty of cheesecake there.

I’d expected them to mention Paul when I arrived this evening, but no, Darcy’s first question is about Alice.

“I didn’t invite her tonight,” I admit, wondering why I didn’t, then remembering she isn’t my actual girlfriend.

“Why not?” Darcy asks, skipping into the kitchen using a purple glittery rope. “We set a place for her.” I glance at the table, and there’s a place for Alice in the middle of the bench between Darcy and Dana. There’s a hairbrush and some plastic bendy things that Dana tells me are for curling your hair.

“I told them not to put hair things on the table as it isn’t very hygienic, but they wouldn’t listen,” Romana explains as she places a bowl of sour cream down and then gives me a stern look. “Why didn’t you bring Alice?”

“I wasn’t sure she was invited,” I explain, which is the truth.

“She’s always welcome here,” Romana says, moving over to the stove, where Smithy stands with his hand on one hip.