It’s exactly what he said to me when I started working at Berkeley Hall.
He turns around and studies me for a moment and I wonder if he’s remembering the same thing.
‘Lunch is getting cold,’ he says wearily, returning to the kitchen.
‘Shall I slice some bread?’
‘There are fresh rolls in that bag.’ He nods at a white paper bag that wasn’t there earlier.
‘Have you been shopping?’
‘Made the most of your car. Knife’s there.’ He nods at a knife block.
We eat our bacon baps at the table, sitting on the built-in bench seats. I bring my knee up and twist to face him.
‘I saw your telescope in the bedroom.’
‘Bit hard to miss.’
‘You still love the stars?’
‘Always.’
‘Do you work at the Spaceguard Centre?’
‘No, I volunteer and use the observatory occasionally.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever go back and do your master’s?’
He lifts his shoulders and looks down at his plate.
His answers are coming much more slowly than my questions. I’m guessing he’s out of practice with carrying on a conversation.
Will I ever get the old Ash back?I wonder with a pang.What if he’s a different person now, set in stone?
We take things easy that afternoon. I’m acutely aware that I’m in a space that Ash has never had to share, so I don’t harass him with questions and in turn he barely speaks to me. We sit in silence and listen to the rain, watching it fall in sheets outside the windows. When I grab a book out of my suitcase, he takes one down from his shelf and we read side by side in the butterfly chairs.
It’s nice, peaceful. It’s restorative.
‘Are you planning on finding somewhere to stay tonight?’ he asks when it starts growing dark.
‘Will you let me stay here?’ I ask tentatively. ‘I can sleep on …’ I look around the room. ‘The floor?’
The corner of his mouth twitches. I stare at him with anticipation, my insides lifting … And then he drops his gaze and shakes his head.
My stomach swoops. I’m not sure how many more of these mini rejections I’m going to be able to bounce back from.
‘You can stay,’ he surprises me by saying.
And I’m up again, soaring towards the treetops.
‘Really?’ I ask hopefully.
He nods, letting his eyes rest on mine for a beat. ‘Sleep in the bed, just … let’s … let’s just not—’
‘Okay.’ I cut him off before I die of embarrassment.
Ash clears out one of two deep built-in drawers under the end of his bed for me so I can unpack and then he takes my empty bag to deposit in the garage. His tiny home definitely can’t accommodate a bulky suitcase.
