‘Just wondering how you are,’ I said.
‘Don’t start that again. You’re not my mum or my doctor so leave me alone.’ The line went dead.
I put my phone back in my pocket and sighed heavily. That was the end of it. From now on, I’d be sticking with my entry in my journal tostop chasing a relationship with Marianne. No more phone calls, no more visits. She clearly had no interest in being part of my life and I’d had more than enough of trying to force her, even though cutting her out completely made me feel sad. I was convinced she was ill or lonely or both, but she wasn’t going to confide in me about any of it and I had to respect her choice.
* * *
The following day, The Crafty Crew minus Christian spent the afternoon displaying the last of the crafts and checking everything was priced up and I was so proud of what we’d accomplished. The shop looked incredible with an impressive range of gifts, all handmade with love.
Saffy had taken some candid photos of us doing our crafts which she’d told us were for social media, but she’d surprised us at Cake & Craft Club on Wednesday with a couple of boards, each featuring photos of three of us alongside a list of the things we were passionate about. My entries had made me laugh as, besidessewing,patchwork quiltingandplaying the piano,she’d puteating cakeandtalking to her parrot Trevor. She’d sized them to display on the walls either side of the bay window so anyone looking in could get a sense of the team behind the business. I’d told her she should have included herself but she was adamant that it should only be the owners, although she was happy to be featured on the website as part of the wider team of contributors. The whole window display looked amazing and the boards really finished it off.
Christian hadn’t been able to join us this afternoon but he’d kindly offered to help me do some painting in the flat this evening.
‘How did you get on today?’ he asked when he arrived a little after five o’clock.
‘All done. I can’t believe it’s ready.’
‘It looks brilliant.’ He completed a circuit of the shop, pausing to look at the ranges we’d added this afternoon. ‘It’s amazing what you can achieve in a short time with enough pairs of hands.’
The evening’s task was painting the living space. I’d chosen a pale sage green for all four walls – quicker and easier than including a feature one. Christian and I made a great team as I enjoyed the precision work round the edges but he preferred the big work with the paint roller. We chatted as we painted and there was plenty of laughter. The more time I spent in Christian’s company, the more I liked him but I still couldn’t decide if that was in the romantic sense or more as a friend.
A few hours later, we’d finished a first coat in the lounge and, as the cutting in took longer, Christian had also painted the small bathroom white, at which point I declared our painting party over for the evening. I was transferring some green paint back from the tray into the tin and Christian was cleaning the white paint tray in the kitchen sink when the entire tap attachment came off and water spurted upwards and outwards like a geyser erupting.
‘Flood!’ Christian called, lunging for the sink and trying to ram the tap back into place. ‘Where’s the stopcock?’
‘Under the sink,’ I said, pulling open the cupboard and grasping for the handle.
I looked up sheepishly when I’d turned it. ‘I’m so sorry. Are you okay?’
‘You might need a new one of these.’ He waved the tap before dropping it in the sink. ‘And I might be a smidge damp.’ He ran his hands through his hair, droplets of water spattering everywhere.
‘Just a smidge,’ I said, my lips twitching as I took in the soggy mess before me, his T-shirt dripping onto the wooden floor.
Next moment, we were both laughing helplessly. I ran to the bathroom to grab the hand towel from there and my breath caught when I returned. Christian had whipped off his T-shirt and was wringing it out in the sink and he was impressively toned. I meant to pass him the towel but I managed to keep hold of it and blot his chest instead. I looked up at him and he looked down at me and I was sure I picked up a flicker of something more than friendship passing between us. Without pausing to think about whether it was a good idea, I stood up on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. My mind skipped ahead in time, imagining him kissing me back and pulling me into a passionate clinch but what actually happened was that he stepped away and both the towel and his T-shirt dropped to the floor with a splat.
‘Yvonne, I?—’
‘I’m so sorry.’ I retreated several paces, my stomach churning. ‘I don’t know what… I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have… erm.’
He pulled his wet T-shirt back on, which must have felt disgusting, and looked at me, his expression sorrowful. ‘It’s my fault.’
‘No, you weren’t the one who…’ I couldn’t bring myself to even say the wordkissedout loud.
‘I know, but I might have given you the wrong impression and that was never my intention. I really, really like you, Yvonne, but as a friend. I hate myself for saying that because it’s one of those awful excuses.’
‘It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth and the stupid thing is I feel the same. I really value your friendship. Can we put it down to a misjudged moment and forget it happened? I really don’t want things to be awkward between us, especially when we’re in business together.’
‘I promise you there’s no harm done.’
We stood there for a moment, eyes held, atmosphere heavy. I wanted the ground to swallow me up whole. What had I been thinking?
Christian finally broke the silence. ‘So, erm, there’s not a lot we can do now until you have a working tap so why don’t I pick one up for you in the morning?’
‘You don’t have to do that. You’ve done so much already.’
‘It’s really no bother. So, I’ll be heading off now – time for a hot shower.’
‘I’ll see you out and thanks again for the help.’
