“We all need support from time to time,” he says easily. “It’s a wonderful project and it will benefit all of the Kendric Park community.”
“There are several new and wonderful projects in Kendric House. Leonie and her café. Alex and the very exciting mosaics. Raff, even. Why aren’t you helping any of them? Why me?”
There!
Something flashes across his eyes. An expression instantly hidden, but not before I saw it.
“It’s just an offer.” He tries to sound casual. “Let’s forget it.”
“You really are a terrible liar.” My tone stays serious. “Again, why are you trying to help me?”
He puts his knife and fork down, wipes his lips with the napkin then puts that down. Here we go, he’s finally going to come clean.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re tenacious?”
“Stop hitting the ball back to my side.”
He smiles. “Old habits.”
When he sees I’m still waiting he draws in a long breath, preparing to talk. “Forgive me, it’s none of my business. But a couple of weeks ago, you had a panic attack just looking down on the size of the garden. And that was when it was just going to be ploughed up and you had a free hand with whatever you planted. Now it’s ten times harder recreating an old design. You must be…” He gives me a searching look. “Aren’t you panicking?”
In a flash of understanding, I see why he’s concerning himself so much. This is a man who gave up his tennis career to look after his sick wife. He’s one of those natural carers. If he hadn’t been a sportsman, he’d have been a doctor. Even his own planting project is about helping people with mental health issues. After my panic attack, he now sees me as another person in emotional trouble.
“My panic attack had little to do with the actual garden challenge.”
He doesn’t look convinced. I could easily find nice words to tell him to mind his own business, and he would. But it’s hard now after the four or five days of back-breaking work he’s put into helping me – I can’t suddenly freeze him out. I’ve never been able to put up barriers between me and people.
So here we are; I’ll have to tell him. And our closer friendship makes it harder, not easier. Thank God, the restaurant part ofthe pub is quiet at 4:30pm. The only sound is the clack of balls on the pool table in the saloon part on the other side of the arch. The waitress is nowhere and even the barman must have moved to the other side of the bar. We are almost alone.
I gulp down a lot more icy water. “A few months ago, I discovered my fiancé was cheating on me.”
His eyes snap to my face at the unexpected direction of the conversation. He’d been expecting something to do with gardening, no doubt.
“It’s a story as old as the Romans,” I continue. “But when it happens to you, it feels like you’re the only one that’s ever been so… ambushed by love.”
Ambushed, and stupid.My eyes sting.Very, very stupid.
“You see, Marcus had chased me like I was the answer to his dreams. After six months together, he took me to Paris for the weekend. That first night, we walked up the steps to the Sacré-Cœur and sat there admiring the view. That’s when he proposed. I was charmed, swept up in the romance of it all. The view of all Paris below us, the dropping down on one knee, the champagne.”
The bitterness of this seeps into my voice, but there’s no mockery in Osian’s eyes. No hint of how corny this must seem.
His expression is full of understanding. “It does sound very romantic.”
I scoff. “It turns out he wanted a job in TV and hoped I’d be his ticket. And you know?” I swallow but the shame still fills my mouth with bitterness. “He was right. I helped him. I actually created a job for him.”
I take a big gulp of water and wait for it to go down.
“Once he was in, he got busy shagging every blonde in sight. It seems he had a clear preference.” I pull lightly on the ends of my own brown hair.
Osian’s eyes widen. “What a scumbag.”
The memory still stings. Not just because I was in love with Marcus, which after a year of flowers and attention, I probably was a little.
No, what really hurt at the time was thinking that my family were right. And especially my school friend, Tricia. All of the people who didn’t think me anything special. Marcus was far too charming and everyone liked him. Why did I think he’d fall for me?
Now that I’m halfway through the story, I rush the rest, wanting it all out and finished.
“Anyway, the day I found out, I just couldn’t face going home and confronting him. Not that same night. So I stayed in my office working late. Ian, a friend on the production team, found me in tears at my desk and dragged me to the green room.”
