Many are the time I have sat by yon stream,
Dreaming of you, sad hopeful dreams,
In vain I wept for you, in vain I raged,
In sorrow I knew that your eyes followed another,
While my years washed away with my tears,
Twenty, thirty, forty, fifty. Wilt thou ever see?
There comes a tomorrow when you weep for me.
“Beryl never saw fifty; she died a few weeks after her forty-ninth birthday. But even on her deathbed she begged her son to keep Elias in his apartment. But her prediction proved right. He did cry for her. In a letter from one friend, it’s said that Elias broke down at her graveside and cried for an hour.”
“Tah,” Shirley almost jeers. “He wasn’t crying for her. He was crying for himself, because there was no one left to talk to him.”
My phone vibrates with another text. Also from Osian.
OSIAN:I’m on my way.♥
I turn around immediately.
He’s not there. The patch of wall where he’d been standing is empty.
When had he moved? During the part of the lecture so absorbing that he slipped away without me noticing? And now he’s on his way back? He didn’t need to text me that.
My pride won’t let me text him so I just stay put, pretending to read things on my phone. By 9pm, the ballroom is empty, and the volunteers start folding chairs and clearing up. Eventually I lose the battle with my pride and text him.
EVIE:Where are you?
Barely a minute later, he replies.
OSIAN:On way to Cardiff, why?
EVIE:Cardiff???
As soon as I press send another message comes from him. Obviously typed at the same time.
OSIAN:Sorry, sent previous messages on the wrong thread. I’m an idiot.
He’s not. I’m the idiot and it’s too late to delete mine because the double ticks turn blue. I can see the three dots dancing.
They stop, then start dancing again.
And again. My heart leaps with worry as I watch him struggle with what to say. Finally, a message comes through.
OSIAN:My sister lives in Cardiff.
Chapter Forty-one
What upsets me isn’t that he went to see his sister, or that he stays there for a week. It’s that the emoji wasn’t meant for me. The little red heart had filled my own heart with hope, just for an instant before it deflated and shrank with disappointment.
“What’s the matter with you?” Shirley toys with her packet of Virginia Slims.
Evan has declared Kendric House a smoke-free zone. This means smokers like Shirley –who says she’s too old to change her ways – must go far enough away from the house so you can’t smell the smoke. I can always tell when Shirley is dying for a ciggie because she starts handling her lighter or cigarettes.
“Nothing is the matter with me.” I’m in the ballroom, having just finished another Saturday night partners’ dinner. Evan gives us the analytics – as he calls them – of our trial opening.
