Chapter 9 #2
Removing the lenses when my eyes were wet made things easier. I’d stepped into the downstairs loo, removed them, and taken great pleasure in flushing them away. When I’d reentered the kitchen, Rain had simply grinned his megawatt smile at me.
“There you are. Nice to see you, Corey Wells.”
Three hours, two arguments over who was paying, and one amazing dye-matching job later, I’d stepped out of the salon in Norwich Rain had found, with hair that looked as though it had never been coloured before.
It looked like mine. The rich auburn colour was the perfect match for my green eyes, and for the first time in ages, when I changed into some of the cheap yet functional clothes I’d picked up at Primark, I looked like myself.
The version of myself I saw in my own head of who I wanted to be.
And I was so happy.
Rain and I stroll to Poppy’s for lunch, and I’m charmed by the rustic quaintness of the village as we pass through.
Thatched cottages with rounded, grey flint pebbles pressed into the render, a small village shop and post office stand next to the gates of the small village school, and an honest-to-goodness duck pond in the middle of the village green, complete with ducks quacking for food every time a passer-by gets too close.
Poppy’s Café stands over the quiet road from the duck pond, and she has a basket outside selling cones of duck food for 75p each. On a whim, I grab a couple on my way inside, and Rain just smiles at me indulgently.
The counter to the right as we walk in is packed with huge cakes that make my mouth water.
Victoria Sandwich with strawberries and Chantilly cream, coffee and walnut, cherry Bakewell cake, and the biggest millionaire’s shortbread I’ve ever seen.
I ask for one to take away, not wanting to miss out on that bad boy.
The hot roast beef baguette with rocket and horseradish I order for lunch is, quite simply, one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth. And the gravy accompanying it is so good, I swear it gives me a foodgasm.
“Enjoying that?” Rain asks with a giggle.
“You don’t even know,” I mumble around a mouth full of food. Gran would be disgusted at my table manners, but it really is that good.
Rain introduces me to Poppy and Chris, who own the café, and Wren, who pops in briefly for coffee.
She’s Aidan’s sister and stands a couple of inches shorter than me with a mess of dark curls piled up on her head, secured inside a scarf.
Her style is giving modern-day Land Girl, and I have to say, she nailed it.
She’s casual and beautiful, and in that sense, she reminds me of Emma, and I make a mental note to call my crazy Scottish friend later on tonight.
We’re just about to leave, coats, hats, and gloves tugged on, when Nash walks in. I smile, glad to see him in a non-medical, non-awkward capacity.
“I er, just need to talk to Poppy before we go, babe. You OK for a minute?” Rain asks, a strange smirk on his face. I nod and follow him to the counter.
“Hi, Doc,” I say with a smile.
“Hi. How’re you settling in?” His coffee cup is steaming and smells delicious, rich and nutty with a hint of smoke. Maybe I should get one before we head back to the house, I think to myself.
“Good. I was just about to go and feed the ducks,” I show Nash one of the cellophane cones filled with duck food I pull out of my pocket.
“Want to join me?” I ask, almost certain he’ll laugh in my face at the juvenile suggestion.
He looks like the type of man who hasn’t fed ducks since he was three years old. His reply startles and delights me.
“I’d love to. Can I get you a coffee to keep warm? It’s nippy outside.”
Is he a mind reader?
“I-I’d love one. Thank you,” I say, suddenly shy and unable to understand why.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” Poppy asks from behind the counter, her warm expression relaxing me.
“Um, a medium oat milk caramel latte with a shot of chocolate syrup, please.”
“Chocolate and caramel?” she asks. I smile sheepishly.
“Yes, please.”
“Do you want cream on top?” she asks, and I’m not sure if she’s gently taking the piss, but that sounds delicious.
“Ooh, yes please,” I reply, and her grin widens.
“A man after my own heart,” she says and gets to work on my drink. When she hands it to me, Nash taps his card quickly and then ushers me out the door.
Now, I find myself leading him across the road towards the ducks, coffee cup in one hand, cone of duck food in the other.
“I hope that is Parish Council-approved duck food, sir,” he says, teasingly.
“It’s Poppy approved, will that do?”
“Top-notch wildfowl fayre, I’d say,” he says, leaning next to me against the railing that circles the pond. “What’ve you been up to today?”
“Rain and I had a good chat, caught up, you know?” He nods in understanding. “Then we went into Norwich so I could sort out my hair.
“Oh, exciting. Can I see?”
I turn to face him, making eye contact, and he jerks backwards.
“Your eyes,” he gushes, and I feel my stomach flip. Why do I feel exposed all of a sudden?
“Oh, yeah,” I fumble with my coffee, looking away.
“I-I got rid of my old contact lenses. They were just for the colour anyway.” I don’t really feel like explaining my irrational connection to those stupid contact lenses standing out here in the cold, but Nash’s expression is warm and kind, his countenance carrying none of the weight of judgement I placed on my own shoulders.
“Truth be told,” I begin, deciding to take a leap of faith, “my ex wanted me to wear them, and I’ve been hiding behind them ever since.
The lenses and the blond hair were all him.
And I just didn’t want to bring any part of him here, you know? ”
Nash nods.
“Yeah, I know,” he says, his voice whisper-soft in the breeze. “You wanted to be yourself here? Have a fresh start?”
I sag in relief. He gets it, and without me needing to offer too much explanation.
“Yeah. Definitely. I just… needed to blow the cobwebs of my old life away.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I much prefer your green eyes.”
Why do I feel like I’m blushing?
“Thanks,” I say, and look over to the ducks.
I tear open the cone of food in my hand and pass it to Nash.
He takes it and joins me, our shoulders brushing as I tear open a second cone.
A moment of comfortable silence descends as we treat the paddling of ducks in front of us to a veritable feast. By the time the third cone, shared between us, is empty, so are our coffees, and he takes our cups to the public wastebin.
“So,” he says as he returns to my side. “Can I see?”
“See what?” I ask, confused.
“Your new, old hair.”
I chuckle.
“Oh, sure.” I pull off the beanie Rain had lent me this morning, and my freshly cut and coloured locks fall around my face.
I chuckle self-consciously and run my hands through it.
The cut is something different, too. My hair had grown out so much that I asked the stylist to leave some of the length, so now I have a floppy, messy haircut that reaches the tops of my ears and looks vaguely reminiscent of ‘curtains’ from the ‘90s but, like, a more modern, elevated version – his words, not mine. It flops around my head, which feels odd after so many years of wrestling it into the God-awful pompadour Dominic insisted on. “You like it?” I ask, my voice quiet and quivering a little. I’m not sure why, but it matters what Nash thinks.
“Much, much better,” he says, and his smile lights up his face like the sun. “You know, if you really want to blow the cobwebs away…” he starts, head tilting in question.
“Always.”
“Can I take you somewhere in the morning? There’s something you might like to see.”
I can’t imagine what or where he wants to take me, but my answer would be the same, regardless.
Nash has been nothing but kind to me, and he’s making a real effort to become a friend.
I feel comfortable around him the same way I did Rain.
The same way I did Emma and John. I think we could be good friends, so I give him the only possible answer.
“Yes, I’d love that.”