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In a second I’m bereft. Walker pulls away. The feeling’s gone and I’m left reeling. When I open my eyes, gone is the confident and self-assured man who approached. If anything, he looks rather unsettled.
‘That will suffice,’ he says, straightening his collar and stealing quick glances at me while he runs fidgeting fingers through his hair.
Right. Yes. That’s right. We were doing a deal. Nothing else. No need to continue.
Stars, I’m pathetic.
Flustered, I pick up a glass of orange juice I forgot I’d even poured and knock it back before gagging.
‘What the fuck did I just drink?’
‘Egg yolks.’
‘You could have told me in the name of our truce!’ I sputter.
‘I prepared the yolks pre-truce.’
‘You beautiful monster.’ I stare in horror. Walker goes back to the couch, back to his paper.
‘All in a day’s work,’ he drawls.
On that note, it’s time for me to hop to it. I have a library to keep, some elderly poetry to read, and I need to figure out how the heck to de-haunt a house.
I finish reading the last line and clear my throat. Agnes has been wringing her hands the past five minutes while I read. I reach over and still them, offering her a reassuring smile.
‘I love this, Aggy. This is…’ I shake my head. How does one compliment another’s grief? She’s written a beautiful piece on the erosion of relationships as you age. Not for the first time, I find myself contemplating if I’m even qualified to be giving feedback on such evocative work. ‘Just beautiful.’
Agnes’ smile is tentative, she looks uncertain of how to receive the compliment. She bows her head to hide her pride as if I’d build her up to strike her low.
‘I love the metaphor in that line about the water gripping the soil and watching it slip through its hands. I love the alliteration in the third line and that rhyme you worked into the fourth stanza. Incredible. This is going to be some collection.’
Her cheeks pink and she scoffs.
‘Now, about formatting—’
‘No! No more book talk! I want to hear about your date!’
Ugh. I fight an eye roll.
Since Henry, I haven’t completely written off dating. I’ve had a few meets here and there. Although they’ve all been rather… disappointing.
‘Are you talking about the date?’ Helen calls out from beyond the computer lab doors. Our rebellion is growing, but not for the reasons I’d hoped.
‘Was he nice?’ Agnes looks up at me with hopeful eyes. I wonder if I looked that stupid going into my sixth date of the fortnight, expecting it to be anything less than diabolical.
‘Not this bullshit again…’ John’s reedy form has been sulking by the doorway the better part of an hour. He has his infantry camo on, and a pair of binoculars in hand. ‘I’m trying to keep us all from getting bleached, and you lot are chatting nonsense instead of getting work done.’
‘Oh! Go play with the dials on your noccy’s John! Now, tell me everything.’
‘It’s called the diopter adjustment ring, and binoculars are no toy—’
‘Shut up, John! We want to hear about Miller’s date, not about you fingering your ring!’ Helen just about wheels him over in her haste to get into the room for story time. John hisses something about a devil woman. Helen grins and shoots me a wink.
‘The date was…’ I trail, looking for a word other than shit. I frown before shrugging. ‘It was fine.’
They all grimace.
‘That bad?’ Helen.
