Almost two weeks after his first email, I find another. The subject field reads: ‘Tasteless’.
Evie: the bringer of hope,
I know you won’t see this; maybe that’s why it’s easier to write because knowing you won’t read it makes it possible to say whatever I want. I’m sitting on our balcony not drinking my morning coffee because it’s tasteless. I’m angry. Your email made me angry. It was so fucking final. You really have gone, and I am powerless to change that. That night, I did something stupid. I hugged my pillow and yelled into it. Yelled until my throat hurt.
What really makes me angry is that I still miss you. After two-and-a-half months shouldn’t I have got used to the empty space next door, the empty chair at my table?
AnotherPerllansgroup started on Monday and what a disaster. I asked one guy to empty seed packets into jars so they’re easier to sprinkle on the ground later. He drifted into a sad dream and emptied all, yes ALL, the seeds into the same jar. So they’re all mixed up and when we sow them, we won’t know what comes out. Could be carrots, courgette or sneezewort for all anyone knows. It was all I could do not to shout at him. And that’s another thing. When you packed your stuff, did you happen to take my sense of humour by mistake? I can’t find it.
A very grumpy Osian.?
This time I go to sleep, hugging my phone to my chest instead of the pillow. I also hug to my heart the smile at the end of his message.
The next day, Leonie calls.
It’s been a while since we spoke and I’ve missed her. She gives me a rundown on Kendric House and the plans to hold weddings in the garden.
“Evan asked me if I’d like to do the catering.”
“Oh, you should,” I encourage her.
“I don’t know. They’re a lot of work and I don’t want to deal with bridezilla types.”
“Weddings are big money,” I point out.
“Speaking of big money, Evan wants me to ask you if you’d like him to rent out your apartment for wedding and/or, honeymoon couples.”
“It’s not my apartment anymore. He can do whatever he likes.”
But of course it doesn’t work that way. Evan is a very stubborn man when he wants to be and in this case, he is unmovable. So after a bit of back and forth with Leonie as go between, I give up and agree to receive 50% of the profit. I set up a secondary bank account into which he can transfer half the rent after paying costs and staff. To be honest, the additional income might help with my crippling mortgage repayments in winter when the garden centre business slows down. Even in August, I still have to be very economical with my shopping.
A week later, we’re talking again when something occurs to me. “Leonie?” I start brushing my hair in front of the bathroom mirror, preparing to go out.
“Yes?”
“Can you ask Evan to remove the coffee machine from my kitchen? It’s too expensive to risk people breaking. Maybe give it to one of the partners, whoever wants it.”
When I first moved here, I missed my gorgeous De’Longhi, but this turned out to be a blessing in disguise. I can’t afford expensive artisan coffee anymore. These days I’m an instant coffee girl.
“I’ll ask Llewellyn. He likes coffee and he’s super careful with equipment. Honestly, I sometimes think he treats machines better than he treats himself.”
Llewellyn? His shy face comes into my mind’s eye. Something in her tone makes me ask. “Why, what’s up with him?”
“I… er… I think there might be something going on with someone.”
Her hesitation makes me put the brush down. “Not Nora again!”
“Not her.”
“Who, then?”
“I don’t know.”
On my way to the supermarket, I go through all the single women at Kendric House. Amani? Too young, but she’s worked with him and Ricky doing online marketing and setting up videos. Ashe? No. She wants to grow herbs, and Llewellyn nevergoes outside. One of the newPerllans? Must be. Unless Leonie’s wrong. She can imagine romance where only weeds grow.
Then, before going to sleep, my head actually on the pillow, another memory drops in. The time they seemed to be having a row in the café.
Llewellyn had been furious and Ashe was crying. Too intense. You don’t have intense rows with someone you don’t care about. The way Osian and I reacted to one another, the times we spent avoiding each other. It wouldn’t have been like that had we felt nothing.
