And I remember his small, steady smile, the way he looked at me like he adored me.
I.
Remember.
Everything.
But that Ash didn’t exist.ThatAsh was a down-to-earth guy who used to camp out in the woods with his friend. He came from a normal household and had a difficult upbringing. He struggled with his dad, who had no time for him because he was so busy toiling away in a fucking furniture workshop.
He sure as hell wasn’t born into nobility, and he sure as fuck didn’t grow up living in a five-hundred-year-old mansion with all the wealth and privilege that entails.
A well of emotion bubbles up inside me. I’ve found Ash, but he’s notmyAsh. I thought my heart had broken when he didn’t show up in Madrid, but this might even be worse. Why did he pretend to be someone he wasn’t?
My throat swells and the pressure behind my eyes builds and then my body begins to shake with sobs.
I give up and let myself grieve.
I don’t know how long I cry for, but when I finally stop, I feel completely shattered. I don’t even have the energy to drag myself upstairs to bed, and I must fall asleep on the sofabecause knocking on my front door jolts me awake. Evan calls my name.
‘Ellie? Are you in there?’
He sounds worried, and I realise, of course, that I just disappeared. A wave of shame crashes over me. I dumped him in it – and all the other serving staff. Jesus, my shoes are still back there on the grass.
‘Ellie?’ he calls again. He’s still knocking gently, obviously wondering if I’ve gone to sleep, but the light by the door is on.
I don’t want him to see me like this. I don’t wantanyoneto see me like this. But he’s clearly troubled and my conscience gets the better of me.
Swallowing my pride, I peel myself off the sofa. ‘I’m here,’ I call through the door. I have to clear my throat and repeat myself because my voice sounds so weak and croaky.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks.
‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well.’
He falls silent and my face warms. I’m so embarrassed.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say again. ‘I’m already ready for bed, but I’m sure I’ll feel better in the morning.’
A few seconds pass. ‘Okay,’ he says uncertainly. ‘Let me know if you need anything. I found your shoes on the lawn. I’ll leave them here.’
‘Thank you.’
I place my hand on the door, fresh tears breaking out at his concern. I wait until I hear his own front door closing before switching off the light, grabbing my shoes from the doorstep and dragging myself up to bed.
I’m the first one outside the next morning, but I don’t go into the walled garden. I wait until Evan sees me so he knows that he doesn’t have to knock.
‘Hey, how are you feeling?’ he asks carefully.
‘Much better, thank you,’ I lie, forcing a tight smile. I’m wearing sunglasses to disguise the shadows beneath my eyes. ‘I’m sorry again about last night.’
‘No worries at all. Are you sure you’re okay to work today?’
‘Absolutely. It’s another beautiful day,’ I add, trying to sound cheerful.
‘It is.’
He doesn’t pry further and I’m relieved. I just want to lose myself in work.
I spend the morning staking delphiniums and other perennials in Maple Garden, down past the orangery. The tall plants haven’t yet come into bloom, but I can already imagine the drifts of brilliant purples and blues, soft pinks and whites. Ducks quack on the nearby lake and birds sing in the woods. I’m about as far from the house as it’s possible to get and I’m glad of the solitude as I tie string around each individual hollow-stemmed plant, attaching them to bamboo stakes to ensure they stay upright once their flowers threaten to weigh them down.
