Chapter 5 #2
Eve smiled to herself, thinking that if a thief were lurking nearby, her old bicycle would probably be way down at the bottom of the list of items they’d choose.
The Volvo wasn’t exactly new, though, she noticed.
In fact, it was a little beaten up. But she wasn’t altogether surprised; in the past, she had known a couple of fairly well-off people who had owned old cars and worn scruffy clothes, and she had liked them for it.
She had assumed they didn’t want, or need, to flaunt their wealth.
She followed Joe into the garden, which wasn’t big but was beautiful.
Perfectly landscaped, it had a pretty antique gazebo in the middle and a spread of wild flowers that looked curated.
The trees at the bottom bordered the Parks.
She looked up at the back of the house, which was surrounded by scaffolding.
There was clearly building work going on here, too.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked, still looking up.
Joe followed her gaze. ‘A loft conversion. I’ve just put the windows in.’
‘Wow. You’ll have the best bedroom in Oxford,’ she said, then felt herself flush. ‘I meant … you know. You’ll have the best view.’
He smiled. It was the first time he’d smiled since they’d bumped into each other in the shop. ‘I know what you meant,’ he said.
‘You’ll probably be able to see my bedroom.
’ Eve laughed, then cringed again and added, ‘I just meant that … I live over there, on the other side of the park.’ What the fuck was wrong with her?
She was normally far more relaxed around men.
At least, she had been when she was with Rich.
It was weird, she reflected, how much more self-assured you were when you were in a relationship, when you had someone at home who loved you, and you weren’t looking for anyone else.
She now doubted everything: her looks, her intellect, her social ability.
She remembered how critical Mackenzie had been of her during her teens, the way she’d walked ten paces behind her mother in the street or shrunk down in the car seat next to her, trying to disappear from view.
‘You’re so weird, Mum,’ she’d said, so often. ‘Why can’t you be normal?’
Did Joe think she was weird? Did everyone?
But Joe didn’t seem interested in her gaffes, she realised, as she watched him fetch the secateurs and walk over to a sprawling plant in a border next to the patio.
He was entirely focused on the task in hand, and that was the problem, she supposed.
She was trying to connect with him and wasn’t getting anywhere.
‘Here you go,’ he said, using the secateurs to snip at a small branch of tiny leaves. He held it out. ‘Do you need a bag?’
‘No, don’t worry. I’ll just stick it in here.’ She removed her rucksack from over her shoulder and opened it.
‘Do you want some more?’
‘Go on, then. A little.’ She cast her eyes over the flower beds, which were already blooming with flowers she didn’t know the names of. ‘God,’ she said, ‘this is beautiful. Really. You’re a far better gardener than I am. I think virtually everything I planted last year is either dead or dying.’
He shrugged. ‘You may be surprised. It depends what you planted. It might just be too early.’
‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I don’t know about that. I think the frost has taken the majority. I just don’t have the time.’
‘What do you do?’ he asked, his back to her.
‘I work at one of the colleges in Oxford,’ she said. ‘I’m a lecturer.’
‘In law?’
‘Yes. How did you—’ she asked, before remembering which section of the Norrington Room he’d first seen her in. ‘Oh, yeah.’
He handed her another branch and said, ‘I can give you a cutting if you want.’
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘Now you’re trusting me with your herbs.’
It sounded funny and this time they looked directly at each other and laughed.
‘So, is it a special occasion?’ he asked. ‘This dinner for your daughter?’
Eve nodded. ‘Yeah, I suppose it is. I mean …’ She sighed heavily. ‘I wish it wasn’t. I wish I saw more of her, but …’
And then, to her horror, she started to cry.
Joe stood up straight, placing the secateurs on the edge of the wall.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘You must think I’m a complete idiot. Honestly. It’s just that …’
Joe waited, blinking, saying nothing.
‘I think I’m losing my family,’ she said.
Joe nodded, and she could see that he was, indeed, making a judgement about her, but it wasn’t a negative one.
‘It’s like that song,’ she sniffed. ‘That one by Keane. “Everybody’s Changing”. But …’
‘But you’re not. You can’t.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not. I can’t.
And it’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that …
’ She wiped her eyes again, feeling a weight in her chest. She breathed deeply.
‘It’s just that I was with someone for over a quarter of a century and …
and even though I have friends and a good job – a good career – it’s not enough.
I’m ashamed to admit that, and it’s such an anti-feminist thing to say, but it still feels as though my whole identity was bound up in being a wife and a mother, and …
and now that I’m not … I just don’t know where to begin. ’
She looked up at him, feeling the most raw and vulnerable she’d felt in years.
Joe looked back at her, his eyes soft, and said, ‘Can I make you a cup of tea?’