Chapter Forty-Six
In the five days since his phone call with Bonnie, Connor had received increasingly terse emails explaining exactly what he would be giving up if he reneged on his contract, and requesting him to reconsider.
There had been a time when he would have jumped through any number of hoops to keep Bonnie happy, but not any longer.
The money didn’t interest him. He supposed he would have to consult a solicitor in due course, but for now the emails sat unanswered.
The only place he felt content was in the garden – Rosie’s garden – even though he had no idea of what to do to it other than watering the flowers.
Last Saturday, out of habit, he unlocked the tool store and wound up Rosie’s radio.
It felt as though he was doing something useful, but he wanted to do more – he couldn’t bear the thought that all her hard work was being ruined through neglect.
Luckily Dorothy had been more than happy to assist, and under her patient tuition he was learning to identify which of the green things were weeds, and how best to deal with the bigger nuisances like ivy and nettles.
Since then, every day he had methodically and diligently worked in the garden.
It was yesterday afternoon that he’d got the idea of calling the radio station while weeding in the garden.
Rosie always left the radio tuned to Radio Classics and after hearing the afternoon request show, he’d immediately packed up and rushed indoors, fired with enthusiasm.
He’d spent the rest of the day trying to compose an email, which he’d rewritten several times, and then selected an appropriate song.
He sent the email to the radio station this morning, although there was no guarantee it would even be read out.
He kept Rosie’s radio wound up, and he listened all afternoon as he carried on weeding.
When he heard his dedication, he felt almost sick with anticipation.
Common sense said Rosie wouldn’t call the radio station, but he carried on listening anyway.
Every time his phone pinged with a text or email, he checked frantically in case he’d missed something, but by the time the programme ended at five o’clock, he’d heard nothing.
With the Radio Classics app loaded onto his phone, he sat with it next to him all evening.
He’d had a good idea, but now he was worried it hadn’t worked.
Rosie might not even have heard his request. He wasn’t going to give up though, and after Grandad’s funeral he would go back to Pennewicks and speak to this Simon character again.
He definitely knew more than he was letting on.
Tomorrow though Patrick needed him. They were going to put together ideas for Grandad’s eulogy, and as Connor sat in his usual spot by the window watching the sun dip behind the trees, he found himself being drawn back into his past. There had been so many occasions when Grandad had taken care of him and Patrick while their mother needed some quiet time.
He remembered how Grandad took them on the bus into Haxford and bought them ice creams, or they’d go boating on the river for the afternoon, or to the cinema to see a film. Happy days, happier times.
A sudden noise jerked him out of his reverie. He snatched up his phone and stared at the text message. It was from Rosie:
Yes, I’ll be there on Friday.
It had worked! It had only gone and bloody worked! ‘Thank you!’ he yelled. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’
Now he had some urgent work to do.