Chapter 12 #4
That was a mistake, a terrifying combination of electricity and familiarity. His hand is rougher, the skin scarred in places, but it is still his hand. Still his fingers. Still the same skin that touched mine all those years ago – that brought me alive.
He squeezes my fingers very briefly, then lets me go. I have no clue if he felt the same as me and I’m not going to ask.
‘So,’ he says quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s wearing a plain black T-shirt that fits where it touches, and does nothing to hide his muscular physique.
It should be banned. ‘What shall we do, Jane? I was up all night, drinking and thinking and then drinking some more, and then after I spoke to her I did some work. Nothing like an hour with a welding torch to clear the mind.’
‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I mutter. ‘And what does your mind say now?’
‘Nothing sensible. What happened to us back then… well, it was bad. I know how hard I found it, and I’m going to assume it was the same for you.
But it’s in the past, and there’s nothing we can do about it, no way to change it.
All we can do is try and forgive them. Try and forgive each other, I suppose – and move on. ’
I nod. He’s right, but it doesn’t feel quite as simple as that. ‘And what would that look like, do you think?’
‘That’s up to you. I’ve given this some thought, and if you want to stay with me, you’re very welcome.
You and Beth. You found Moira’s card after all, you were invited to this bookshop, to this place…
and apart from anything else, she’d kill me if I mess that up.
It might not be easy, and there will be moments where we’re both awkward I know, but if you’d like to, then stay.
Let Beth have her fun, help Moira and Kate, and maybe…
I don’t know. Maybe we’ll end up as friends? ’
Friends… would that be possible? Is that something I even want?
Beth is undeniably having a great time. It’s picked her up when her dad kicked her down, and as a result we’ve been getting on so much better.
And I can’t deny my enthusiasm for the project I’ve suggested at the bookshop and gallery – even if I don’t get to see it through, I know I could achieve a lot in a week.
But at what cost? Can I stay with this man, share a roof with him, share this village with him, without it breaking me all over again?
I don’t know, is the simple answer. But maybe I need to at least try – not just for Beth’s sake, but for my own. For his.
I nod, and reply: ‘Maybe. I just… well. I’ll give it a go. We’ll take it one day at a time.’
‘Sounds like a plan. Now, what do you think I should do about this mural conundrum? Those two can’t make their minds up, and we wanted to get them done in time for the gallery opening, and for the visit by the funding people. You seem sensible these days, what do you suggest?’
Hah, I think, feeling slightly insulted – I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but still. I seem sensible? I hope that doesn’t go on my gravestone.
Some of that must show on my face, and he smiles gently. ‘I meant it as a compliment. I already know the other side of you – the way you felt about art. How passionate you could get about painting. The way you lit up when you visited a gallery…’
It’s too much, and I blink it away. Focus instead on combining the sensible with the passionate by thinking about the murals.
I look around the bright, colourful room. At the moment the walls are painted primary shades, and the books in here are on low-level shelves on wheels, so little hands can reach them. I picture what could be possible, what could work.
‘Kate wants animals, Moira wants flowers. Why not both? In fact, why not everything? One wall could be the forest, with the plants and animals you’d find there. Another could be the sea. The third could be farmland, there’s a lot of that around here.’
‘And the fourth?’ he asks, staring around.
‘That’s for the kids to do.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asks, head tilted on one side.
‘Leave it blank, and if they want to – if it’s okay with their parents – then the children who visit can do their bit.
They could add a handprint in paint, or draw something, or put some stickers on it?
Whatever they liked. Or you could make it a chalkboard, and let them colour it in.
Kids would love that, feeling involved.’
He nods, a slow grin spreading over his face. It melts me a little, and his approval makes me warm and fuzzy inside. Sensible? I wish.
‘That’s a great idea, Jane. Will you help me with them? I’ll prime the walls, paint them plain, and then we could start the outlines…’
I shake my head quickly. That would be too much. Being here, in this room, with him? Working up close and personal? Painting together? It’s too much like our old fantasies were. Too connected to the past. Besides, I don’t really draw any more – I never have the time.
‘Oh no, that’s your department,’ I tell him firmly. ‘I’m the paperwork and logistics woman. I leave flights of fancy to others.’
He looks at me, a flicker of something in his eyes – sadness? Disappointment? Relief, probably, because I’m sure he was just being polite.
‘Okay, if that’s what you want,’ he says. ‘I’ll leave you to your logistics.’