I bet Ash booked the string band for his parents’ fortieth. I can just imagine him adding Pulp’s ‘Common People’ to the playlist and having a bit of a laugh about it. Did he go to boarding school with some of those Hooray Henrys? He said he hated it there – does he even get along with those people?
There’s still so much I want to know about him. I feel as though we’ve barely scratched the surface.
It must have been so hard to lose his brother like that, and then for his role to suddenly change. He’s explained why he didn’t turn up in Madrid, and I understand, even if it can’t retroactively erase the hurt. Still, it’s not like anything can come of the connection we forged all those years ago. Maybe now we’ve had our talk, he’s done, he’s said his piece. He’s got his closure and her name is Beca.
I finally cracked and googled him last night. The sight of the Honourable Ashton Berkeley and the Honourable Rebecca Brampton looking dolled up to the nines at some society event made me feel seasick. I won’t inflict that torture on myself again.
As the week unfolds without Ash reaching out to me again, I become increasingly convinced that he’s drawn a lineunderneath our relationship. It’s what he should do, of course – it would be dishonourable to do anything else – but I can’t help feeling as though I’m carrying a weight around, even when I’m gardening.
I want to get back to the lightness I felt when I started here, but I suspect it might take some time. I don’t feel angry towards Ash any more, just sad. The anger was easier to handle.
Siân is due back from holiday on Friday, so on Thursday evening I clean the house from top to bottom and pick fresh flowers from the walled garden to welcome her home. I’m determined to be upbeat for my new housemate – I’ve wallowed behind closed doors for long enough – but I’m not naive; I know it’s going to be strange sharing a space again, especially when my head is so full of Ash.
On Friday afternoon, it’s drizzling when I finish work for the day, but the weather won’t stop us from having what I now know is a regular welcome-the-weekend barbecue. It’s been raining steadily for three days, but it’s supposed to clear up later.
I’m in the process of towel-drying my hair when there’s a knock on the door. Is that Siân already? Evan went to pick her up from the station, but they’re not due back for a bit.
I’m not fully dressed yet, so I go and peek out of the window and catch a glimpse of someone’s arm beneath the porch roof. I open up the sash window and lean out, keeping the lower half of my body hidden.
‘Hello?’ I call.
I almost have a fit when Beca steps out from under the porch and looks up at me. She’s wearing a light-grey shift dress and enormous black sunglasses, even though it’s overcast.
‘Hello,’ she says unsmilingly.
‘Hi.’ My heart jolts unpleasantly. What’s she doing here?
‘Do you think I could come in?’ she asks, and there’s a hostility in her tone that makes my anxiety spike.
‘Sure, I’ll just finish getting dressed,’ I reply awkwardly.
She nods and returns under the porch to wait while I quickly pull the sash window back down and drag on a pair of denim shorts to go with my lightweight jumper.
My hair is a wet, tangled mess and I’m wearing no make-up, but I’m quite sure that’s the least of my problems. The thought occurs that she’s here to warn me off Ash, but that’s the most ridiculous notion. What if she’s here to threaten me? Could she get me fired?
I open the door and step back, my heart thumping.
Her long blonde hair is contained in a fishtail braid that drapes across one shoulder and loose tendrils frame her slim oval face. She’s about three inches shorter than me, but she’s standing tall and proud.
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t know how long we’ll have before my new housemate arrives. We haven’t met yet and she’s due back from holiday today,’ I say as I turn and pad across the floor in my bare feet to the kitchen.
‘I won’t take up much of your time,’ she replies in a clipped English accent as she follows me inside.
‘Can I get you anything?’ I ask.
She’s still wearing her sunglasses.
‘Just a glass of water, please.’
I take a deep, steadying breath as I fill a glass.
‘I’m Ellie, by the way.’ I set the glass on the table and pull out a chair.
She lets out a weak laugh as she also sits down. ‘I know who you are. I knew who you were the second I saw you, standing there with your tray of glasses.’ She picks up her drink, but she doesn’t take a sip. ‘I knew who you were the second Ash looked at you,’ she continues dully. ‘Even before he left me standing on the steps with his parents.’
My chest constricts at the thought of her watching that scene play out. I’ve tilted my body towards hers, but she’s staring down at her water. Her lips are rosebud pink and she has a perfect cupid’s bow.
‘Oh God.’ She takes off her sunglasses just as I notice that her bottom lip has begun to tremble.
