‘She’ll come around.’ He looks towards Angelina who is now angrily shoving some seedlings into the soil. ‘Eventually.’
We finish the rest of the gardening in silence.
We break for lunch at one. The gardeners gather outside the Salle des Fêtes where someone mans a barbeque and plates of food sit on a picnic table for us to grab. I take one and look for somewhere to sit. I see Luc and consider joining him, but then I notice Angelina next to him and reconsider quickly. I look for the only other face that feels familiar enough to endure a lunch with but he isn’t here. I strain my eyes and eventually find him, bent over a bit of ground at the bottom of the field.
I take a second plate.
‘You don’t do lunch now?’ I call and he looks over. His face pulls into a smile when I get closer. ‘I thought it was sacred here.’
‘I got carried away.’ He wipes some sweat off his brow and gets to his feet, hands on his hips surveying his masterpiece of a freshly turned-over flower bed, complete with little rock edging and a spray of small purple flowers.
‘It looks done to me.’
‘Not quite but I’ll do it later,’ he shrugs and reaches over for the plate but I whisk it out of his reach.
‘What’s left?’
‘You really want to know?’
‘Yeah, what can I say? You’ve piqued my interest.’
‘Fine. Put that down and come here.’ He kneels back into the dirt and I copy him. ‘Hand me a few big ones, the smoother the better.’ He points to a wheelbarrow of stones and pebbles. I do as he says, running my hands through what’s left.
‘These do?’
He takes them from me and weighs them in his hands. ‘Perfect.’ He places the largest one firmly into the soil and then takes a second. He sits back, considering something I don’t really understand before gently placing the second one on top of the first. He makes minute little adjustments, letting it rock a little and tapping it in one direction or another. I watch how his lip curls up in concentration, how his hands start to move away from the stone but linger close by until he can step away entirely and the stones remain standing.
‘A cairn.’
‘Ever built one before?’
‘No.’
‘Ettie and I used to do it all the time as kids.’ Something wistful and gentle passes over his face. ‘His were always bigger of course, taller, more impressive, but mine lasted.’ He beams and when he looks at me, I think I can see an echo of that kid. ‘Here.’ He passes the third stone to me. ‘You give it a go.’
‘Really?’
‘If it falls, we try again.’ He shrugs and moves away so that I can take his place. I take a second rock, try to balance it on the first, but as soon as it makes contact the whole thing topples and falls down.
‘Shit. Sorry, I told you I couldn’t.’ I get to my feet and offer him the stones but Florian crosses his arms. ‘Half the fun’s in the trying again.’
I seat myself back down on the ground, try the second stone. Every time I take my hands away it tumbles again. Florian had made it look so easy, like these stones were glued together.
‘Fuck!’ I growl as the cairn collapses for a third time. I expect to feel Florian at my side ready to take over like Ettie would have done, sweep in and correct my mistakes, but he holds back, watching me carefully.
‘Would you like a tip?’ he asks gently.
‘Is it magic?’
‘You’re being too… rough,’ he offers. ‘Do you want some guidance?’ He hovers a little at my side until I nod. ‘Right, do what you did before.’ I do as he says. ‘Now keep your hands there, and… this is kind of stupid but you need to try to be the rock.’ I feel him next to me, the closeness of his body, the warmth.
I rotate the stone a little too harshly and the cairn falls again. Florian sets it up before dusting his hands off and turning to me. ‘You need to root yourself to the ground; try crossing your legs.’ I copy him, ignoring how the ground is starting to make my jeans damp. I flex out my fingers before starting again, planting the first stone to a flatter surface. Florian disappears from view and then he’s there, at my back, a knee either side of me. He’s careful not to sit too close, probably equally aware of the fine line between genuine assistance and something much more complicated. He places his hands on top of mine so softly it’s like he isn’t really there at all, the faintest of touches as he positions them in a way that makes the next stone seem like it’s cemented to the one below. He holds me there for a moment, his breaths slow and warm, touching the nape of my neck.
‘Almost.’ His voice is steady and deep as if in order to make this strange little tribute last he has to speak in a different frequency. ‘It helps if you close your eyes,’ he murmurs.
‘Seriously?’ I mutter through gritted teeth and he chuckles into my shoulder.
‘It was worth a try. Now take your hands away like this.’ I feel the warmth of his fingers leave mine, and then I do as he says until there are two perfectly balanced stones in front of us.
