Chapter 51
Fifty-One
I worked for hours, sketching, erasing, and sketching again.
I created hard evidence, a garden that would be a solid promise that whether I left with him or not, my heart was with him.
If I was a musician I’d have written a song, or a poem if I’d been a wordsmith, but this was the best I could do and I had to hope it was enough to bring him the security he needed.
I worked until finally sleep came for me and I slumped, my pencil still in my hand and Alfie’s face in my dreams.
I awoke amidst a sea of sketches and discarded pencils, my mum’s tattered old book clutched in my hand. I groaned and stretched, trying to work all the kinks out of my muscles. My eyes were gritty and my mouth tasted like a foot, but I was humming with excitement.
Mark arrived and I hid the file containing my plans out of sight–like hell would I be asking for his opinion on them.
Five hours later I pulled up at Harrington, fidgeting with nerves.
Somehow, Harrington House seemed more intimidating than usual today.
I remembered the first time I ever came here and almost laughed at how oblivious I’d been to the insanity that was about to hit my life.
Alfie Tell had turned everything upside down.
I’d arranged to meet Riley on the roof and was just about to hop out of my van when my phone buzzed. Of course it was from Alfie.
What are you doing at Harrington?
A.
God damned GPS. I wondered if he got an alert every time I was on the move, then I decided that it was probably better if I didn’t know.
That’s really creepy, you know that? Where the hell are you?
I hadn’t heard from him all day and that bothered me more than I liked. Besides being terrified about this meeting, I’d spent a lot of the day trying not to picture him and Angie fucking in a Parisian penthouse.
I’m in the sky.
A.
I looked up which was stupid because of course all I saw was clear skies.
Okay, Batman. How come I don’t get one of those GPS things? I sent back and once again his reply was immediate.
Because I’m Batman. What are you doing at Harrington?
A.
I snorted at his response. Alfie had a serious talent for getting around things he didn’t want to talk about. Or maybe I was developing a serious talent for letting him.
I’m showing my final plans to Riley. Leave me alone. I’m working. With a decisive huff I put my phone in my bag, got out of my van, and headed for Harrington. My phone buzzed again and I pulled it out as I climbed the steps.
Breathe.
A.
Breathe? He wanted me to breathe? Did he have any idea how nervous I was?
Are you breathing?
A.
I let out a huff as I stepped inside and crossed the foyer, my block heel boots making a sharp sound on the tile as I walked.
Yes, Alfie, I’m breathing. I’ve been doing it for 23 years, thank you, I typed as I tried to remember exactly how to get the roof. I’d only been there once and at the time I’d been a little distracted by a certain someone so I hadn’t paid much attention to the route. My phone buzzed again.
You’re cute when you’re nervous.
A.
I paused at the top of the stairs to type. If I didn’t pay attention to where I was going I was going to get lost in this labyrinth very quickly.
Shut up. And what did you mean you’re in the sky?
I sent off the text and looked left and right. Each direction looked identical and unfamiliar, so much work had been done since I’d last been here. I was pretty sure we’d gone right last time…
Helicopter. Just leaving Paris. I’ll see you tonight.
A.
A layer of relief fell over me. He was coming back. I checked the time and winced. I was going to be late. I set off down the corridor on the right, hoping I would see something I recognised.
Maybe I have plans tonight. I replied. I stopped at the end of the corridor and looked around.
Left or right? I didn’t know, but my muscle memory wanted to go left, so I went left.
This corridor was sparser than the last. Dust sheets hung from the ceiling and the sounds of workmen grew louder.
I took another left and there, at the end of the hall, was the ‘restricted access’ door that I remembered from my first visit here.
I checked the time again. I had one minute.
My phone buzzed again as I dashed down the corridor.
If you do have plans then you’re about to cancel them.
I need to see you.
A.
He needed me. Once again I pictured him with that deadened, blank expression on his face. I shook those thoughts away. I couldn’t deal with them right now. I pushed open the door to the stairwell, switched off my phone, and headed into the most important meeting of my career.
I admired Riley. I admired his work and his dedication to the craft we both loved, but right now I wanted to grab him by the lapels and shake the hell out of him.
He’d listened in silence as I presented my plans to him, waiting patiently until I’d finished, at which point he’d pulled the file in front of him and begun to dissect my work in complete silence.
He’d been looking over my plans for a full fifteen minutes and he’d given me nothing.
He just left me on the edge of my seat, completely oblivious to how close he was to being strangled.
Eventually, a million years later, he sat back in his chair.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully. Well? Well what ? ‘Well terrible, Lola, get out of my sight and never go near a pansy ever again?’ Or ‘ Well, excellent work you green-fingered goddess!’
I inched forward in my seat, my hands twisting in my lap as he took a casual sip of his tea whilst still perusing my work.
After a moment, he took off his thick-rimmed glasses and started cleaning them on the corner of his shirt.
“This is good, Lo.” My gaze snapped up to meet his, searching his face for any sign that he was mocking me. “I mean, really good. Well done.”
“Don’t you play with me, Fitzpatrick. If it’s not good enough I want to know,” I said with all seriousness, but he only laughed.
“It’s beyond good enough.” He picked up my sketch for the centre piece and raised an eyebrow. “I like the name too. ‘The Evergarden.’ It’s pretty.”
“Thanks, I thought it seemed…apt.”
“That it does.” He sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. “Has the big man seen these yet?”
“Only a skeletal version. I wanted to show you first.” I took a sip of my tea. “Do you think he’ll like them?”
“Aye. It’s a unique design but it will blend with the rest of the aesthetic quite well.
It’s not too stiff which is perfect. There’s a reason I chose to give you a more secluded plot to work on instead of one of the entrance gardens.
The plot is private, a secret, so it makes sense that your design is private too, personal really.
Very, very romantic.” The look in his eye told me that he knew this garden was all about Alfie.
“Though, I’m not sure the boss is gonna get it straight off.
You might need to talk him through it a bit,” he said with a grin.
“I seem to be talking him through a lot these days,” I mumbled, then jerked my gaze back up to his. “I’m sorry, Riley, I really shouldn’t have said that.”
He just shrugged. “It’s fine. He’s a very private person, Lola. Don’t take it personally if he isn’t letting you in.”
“I try not to,” I said, then remembered something that I’d wanted to mention to him. “He did talk to me about Never Tell yesterday.” I watched Riley closely, trying to gauge his reaction. I was curious to know how involved Riley had been in that world.
“What did he tell you?” There was a hint of something in his voice. Concern? Fear? I wasn’t sure.
“Nothing much. Just that he sold most of his shares to his Tellers and one of them runs it now. He said he doesn’t go to any of the parties any more.”
He nodded and took off his glasses again and began cleaning them with another corner of his shirt. It was the kind of thing a tweed-clad librarian might do. Once again, I wondered how he and Alfie could be friends. They were worlds apart from one another. “That’s true.”
“Did you ever…?” My unfinished question hung in the air.
“Yeah, but I can’t talk to you about it.
It’s against club rules. Besides, Alfie wouldn’t like it.
But I’ll just say, those parties weren't really the place for anyone with a moral compass.” A shiver ran up my spine at his words.
The things Alfie must have done were so alien to me I couldn’t even imagine them.
“Do you think he misses it?” I asked and he paused, his expression thoughtful. I could see he was torn between helping me fill in the blanks and protecting his friend’s privacy.
“I reckon he misses the freedom,” he said eventually.
“Then why give it up to run his father’s company when he hates it so much?”
“Lola, you know I’m not going to talk to you about that.” His tone was gentle but firm.
“Of course, I’m sorry I asked.” I wanted to ask him about Alfie’s family too. I hadn’t forgotten about Elliot’s reluctance to call them when Alfie had hurt himself.
“Is there something else?”
“Nothing you can help me with without breaking your vow of secrecy. I’m just worried about him. He acts so strangely sometimes. It scares me and I don’t know what to do or who to talk to about it.”
“Well, I can’t speak on that but what I can say is the other night at the bar, when you disappeared with your friend after she announced you might be leaving with her and not him. Well, I’ve known him a long time, nearly twenty years, and I’ve never seen him look like that before.”
“Like what?”
“Scared, love. He looked scared. Are you really not going to leave with him?”
“I honestly don’t know.”
“Hence the Evergarden,” he said, understanding clear in his voice.
“Hence the Evergarden,” I echoed. “I wanted him to know how I felt, whatever I chose.”
“I hope he knows how lucky he is. I’m almost jealous. I’d like myself a love like that.” He sipped his tea, a playful grin playing around his mouth as he guided us to lighter topics.
“No Mrs Fitzpatrick out there, then?”
“Not yet. I met a girl once but she slipped through my fingers. I still think about her from time to time, though. Anyway,” he said, shaking himself out of that memory, “I’m really happy with your designs and if you ever need—” He was cut off by his phone ringing and he pulled it out of his pocket to check the caller.
“Shite, I need to take this,” he said as he stood.
I followed suit, rising from my own chair.
He answered the phone and told whoever was on the line to give him a minute before covering the mouthpiece.
“Lola, this is fantastic work. I hope you’ll come back and see it in a year’s time when it’s finished.
” Pride bloomed in my chest and excitement too at the prospect of being able to see my own designs in real life.
“Of course, thank you Mr Fitzpatrick.” I stuck out my hand and he grinned before giving in to the overly formal handshake.
“Miss O’Connell.” He left to take his call and I turned to look out at the view.
I’d done it. If ever I failed at anything else I would still be Lola O’Connell, the woman who designed a garden for a billion dollar hotel chain. The back of my mind still gnawed on the impending decision I had to make, but right now, I was flying.