“You miss the important one, Lucy; the practical one.”
“What’s that?”
“We’re neighbors, Lucy.”
“So?”
“If it goes wrong, we have to see each other every day.”
“And you couldn’t cope with that, Dirk, a grown man like you?”
“Could you?”
“If you’re saying you couldn’t bear to see me with anyone else, then I’m flattered. You really like to win, don’t you? ”
“It’s not like that...”
“We were honest with each other in the garden before Mrs Munze turned up. We were honest with each other as we talked by the fire. We like each other. We’re great together. Great company. We could be more. I don’t have that instant rapport with everyone, Dirk. Tell me you feel it too.”
“I like you, too, very much, but I’m an old-fashioned man, Lucy. I talk about cars and engines and tools and diseases. I don’t know how to talk about feelings.”
“Do you know what, Dirk? My daughter and her friends would call you ‘commitment-phobic.’”
“Your daughter. How’s that going?”
“You’re shirking the subject, Dirk.”
“Me? Commitment-phobic? I know all about commitment, Lucy – commitment to family, commitment to my father’s dreams, commitment to my ‘educational opportunities,’ commitment to the team, and then decades more of it – to my patients, to minimize their suffering and maximize their healing, whatever else was or wasn’t going on in their lives, not to mention commitment to Millie and her dreamhouse ... so don’t you dare accuse me of commitment phobia, Lucy.”
“But ...”
“And you don’t know the half of it.”
In the plush leather bucket seat, my phone dings and I check it. It’s Donna, pressing me to commit to that fresh assignment.
Freya really needs a favor, Donna text reads.
Freya’s her sister. She runs the cleaning and housekeeping side of the family business. Norths, or something.
She’s short staffed. Needs someone to housekeep for a week. Three clients. Can you do it? They’ll be local jobs for you. Not much travel in it.
Sure, I text back. It’s a no brainer. I’m so lucky to know Donna and her family, with their jobs coming out of the woodwork. The unpacking work has slowed down, with school back in. There’s always a great rush of jobs during school holidays. Cleaning’s not my favorite, but I can wear headphones and zone out while my body does the work.
She texts me a booking link. I fill it in without too much thought, then turn my mind to Phoebe, crossing my fingers that this time, she will respond to my message.
