This contradiction is just like the boy who sixteen years ago was incredibly charming and nice… before he forgot all about me.
“Evie?” Raff’s voice makes me jump.
“You’re new here and things are probably still very unfamiliar and perhaps tricky. So if you need anything, please say. We’re all happy to help.”
His words, coming on top of everything else, make my eyes sting.
“Nothing. It’s just someone I know was just…” How do I describe this without naming Osian? Know that guy who’s planning to offer mental health and wellbeing? What a joke! “It’s just a friend who suddenly lashed out for no reason I can see.”
“Ah ha, here it is.” Raff pulls out a large metal urn, one of those often used in catering and hospitality where people can serve themselves hot water for tea and coffee.
Then he turns serious. “Have you heard the expression, ‘If it’s hysterical, it’s historical’?”
Is he talking about the hot water or about me?
“It means,” he says, “if someone’s reaction seems over the top, it’s probably nothing to do with you but something in their own past that’s a raw nerve. An old wound that’s still painful.”
I munch on my toast and drink my coffee. Raff gets busy cleaning the urn inside and out while he explains they want to set it up here because a lot of people use the kitchen as an informal sitting room and often there are too many for one kettle.
When I’m finished with my breakfast, I ask him: “You know what you told me about someone with an old wound?”
“Yes?” He plugs the urn in and pours jugs of water into the top.
“What would you do with such a person?”
He stops working and watches me. “Keep yourself safe. Stay out of their way. If they’re going to explode, let them do it on their own.”
It’s not what I want to do. I’d been hoping for some advice about how to fix the relationship between us. But then, I don’t have the best track record at trying to fix relationships. So maybe Raff’s advice is the way to go.
I wash my cup and plate then go to find my toolbelt. If Osian needs distance, he’ll get it with both hands. I promise to stay out of his way.
Osian, for his part, is conspicuous by his complete invisibility. In the mornings I can hear him moving around in his apartment; I can even smell his coffee – very faintly – but the little table on the balcony remains empty. This stings so much that I’m tempted to knock on his door to assure him and ask what he’s so afraid of. I don’t, of course, because I’ve promised myself to stay out of his way.
Keeping promises is one of my strengths, part of my skillset.
Distraction helps. And what better distraction than furnishing my new apartment? Making a new home – a fresh, bright, beautiful start for my new life.
I really want to create a look in harmony with the character of Kendric House. One way would be to buy expensive antique Victorian furniture, but that takes months of careful shopping and can be seriously expensive. Instead, I go for the shortcut.
God bless IKEA and their speedy delivery. The very next day, they send me a very nice Scandi bedroom set and clean, white living room furniture. From Henrik the lamp to Gustave the picture frame, I have enough to keep me busy all day. The two men who carry the flatpacks and put the furniture together are very efficient and don’t mind moving sofas and tables here, then there, then back here again, until I’m happy with the placement of everything.
“You must be an artist or designer,” one of them says as they put their tools away. “You want things just so. It looks better than the catalogue. Mind if I…” He holds up his phone when Inod. He walks around taking pictures of my very Scandinavian-looking apartment.
This is how I’ve tried to harmonise with Kendric House, by mimicking the colours and artistic style starting to emerge in the various rooms being restored. The stained glass and the mosaics, the colours. That’s the advantage of white furniture – you can add any character you like with accents and covers. If later you change your mind, you don’t have to buy new furniture, only new accessories.
For accessories, I drive down to Cardiff the next morning. While wandering around John Lewis looking at bedspreads, I catch myself hoping Osian has noticed my absence and is beginning to believe that I’m not hanging around him. What was it in his past, so troubling that he lashed out at me? That he suspected me of chasing him? What is it about my TV career that makes me suspect? The clues are all there. It’s something to do with the press. My hand itches to grab my phone and look him up. But long habit – years and years of avoiding any news of him – is hard to break.
Stop thinking about it, Evie. To drag my mind away I visit lots of shops and let retail therapy work its magic.
The mosaics at Kendric House – not only on the terrace wall but also inside – are a great inspiration. So I search out silk cushions and woven throws in jade green, seafoam, and light turquoise. At House of Fraser I buy a china set, white with a delicate green leaf design along the rim. I even splash out on a De’Longhi coffee machine to make sure I’ll never need to intrude on Osian ever again.
Then, just as my red Mini is crammed to bursting with bed linen, blankets, and rugs, I discover a small gallery of local artists. A cobalt-blue clay vase in the window – the same blue asmy blue wall – makes me go in to buy it. Once inside I fall in love with a set of six beautiful pictures of Welsh lakes and a sculpture of a flower painted in delicate shades of lilac.
How much money have I spent? God only knows, but my home will look bright, elegant and peaceful.
From now on, my thoughts will be on my work – and I am eager to make a proper start on the gardens. Since the discovery of the poem on the mosaic wall – ‘Where the five colours of hope beckon, my feet must follow’–I haven’t been able to shake the question. What does it mean?A garden is meant to have flowers and they come in all colours; why go to all the effort of making small tiles to write that on a wall? What were the five colours? And where should I look first? Where in the ten acres of wilderness do I start to look?
The other question that keeps nagging at me is Osian. What has happened to change him?
