Chapter 29
‘’Course you can come,’ Enzo tells Laura when she arrives to pick up Mathilde.
‘I’m sure she won’t mind.’ Celia, he means.
Their visit to the houseplant hospital last weekend was something of a thrill for Mathilde, and clearly, her mum’s interest has been piqued too.
Enzo was just relieved that Spike’s prognosis wasn’t completely hopeless.
He has also been looking forward to seeing Celia again.
She’s unusual, certainly. On one hand, so bold: the way she’d basically chased them into Benji’s, full of apologies after sending him and Saska away that first time.
But then at home she seemed sort of reticent, and he’d felt awkward, asking if they could come in.
And then again she changed, visibly relaxing as she showed him and Mathilde the magical plant room and demonstrated that thing of massaging the roots.
She seemed to open up then, as if she were more comfortable busying herself with a practical task.
Happier being around plants than people, perhaps.
In truth, Enzo doesn’t know what to make of her, apart from that he finds her quite fascinating and unlike anyone he has ever met before.
However, immediately as Enzo, Laura and Mathilde arrive at Celia’s flat, his spirits sink a little.
Mathilde has enthused to her mum about the ‘organised jungle’, not to mention Celia’s friendliness and the amazing cake.
And this time he senses Mathilde’s slight disappointment as Celia beckons them in.
Not only in that cake is unforthcoming – she didn’t expect it, she knows it’s not a cafe – but that Celia’s manner is rather brusque.
‘Nice to meet you,’ she says when Enzo introduces her to Laura. Then it’s straight through to the kitchen – seemingly there’ll be no plant room visit this time – where Spike is sitting on the kitchen table, still looking somewhat sorry for himself, surrounded by broken pink biscuits.
‘Oh dear,’ Laura remarks, then looks down at Mathilde. ‘Did you think he’d be better by now?’
‘Celia said it might take a while,’ she says stoically.
‘I did say I’d try my best,’ Celia says, ‘but I can never guarantee that a care plan will work.’
Enzo frowns. ‘No, of course not. We do understand that.’
‘I’ll keep in touch with any progress.’ An awkward pause hangs as Celia sets about gathering up the biscuits, dropping them onto a plate and then tipping them into the pedal bin.
He catches Mathilde observing this with an inscrutable expression.
‘Sorry about the mess in here,’ Celia adds.
She grabs a cloth and wipes away the scattering of pink crumbs from the table.
He can sense that Laura, too, is surveying the scene, taking it all in. Thinking, well, this isn’t what I expected. She adjusts her ponytail and glances at the kitchen clock. ‘Oh, Mathilde. Your swimming lesson. We really have to dash…’
‘Yes, we’d better,’ Enzo starts. ‘Thanks anyway, Celia?—’
‘You know what they’re like if we’re late,’ Laura adds, then smiles broadly at Celia.
‘Great to meet you and thanks for even trying to help poor old Spike. See what happens when Enzo’s left in charge for more than five minutes?
’ She casts her gaze upwards good-naturedly, and he forces a chuckle as they leave.
Outside the flat, although goodbyes have been said, Enzo is aware of Celia still hovering at the door as if there’s something else she wants to tell them. Should they have offered to take Spike off her hands? Or perhaps another customer is due at any moment?
Laura unlocks her car and Enzo hugs his daughter. ‘Have a great lesson,’ he says.
‘Thanks, Dad.’ In she hops, and as Laura pulls away, he’s already figuring that he’ll walk home, and then force himself out for a run in the hope of shaking off the weirdness of that little encounter there.
Perhaps they’d built it up too much, he and Mathilde – enthusing about the room in which leaves cascade lushly from shelves stretching up to the ceiling.
His daughter’s enthusiasm is infectious and sometimes he gets carried away.
No big deal, he tells himself as he starts to stride away down the quiet residential street. Already he’s trying to mentally rev himself up for that run.
‘Enzo?’
He stops and swivels back. Celia has called him, still standing there in her doorway. ‘Yes?’ he says.
‘D’you have a minute?’
‘Um, yes. Of course…’ Something’s bothering her, he realises – and now it dawns on him what it must be. Why she seemed so uncomfortable in her kitchen today and would hardly look him in the eye.
How dumb of him not to realise, he thinks as he heads back towards her. Of course it’s obvious now.
With Mathilde gone, Celia is going to break the news that Spike is officially dead.