Chapter Twenty-Three
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Stop overthinking , Ash texts me the following evening.
Is he a mind reader? He asked earlier if he could see me and I replied that I couldn’t because Sian seemed in need of company. She was a little down this morning, but perked up when I suggested another Glee marathon. She never watched it when it first aired and has been hooked since Bethan’s birthday.
But now I’m staring at the TV in a daze, unable to concentrate. Heartbreak is on the horizon and I’m catapulting towards it.
Everything I said to Ash last night was true: whatever this is between us cannot last. I do want a family one day, and the thought of my children having to deal with the pressure of being the twenty-second generation of Berkeleys is inconceivable.
Maybe it’s because of what I went through as a teenager, but I’m not comfortable around posh people, and I hated feeling invisible at Ash’s parents’ party. I can’t bear to imagine how some of those people would look down on me if I had to socialise with them, the comments they’d make after finding out that Ash left the beautiful Bex for a grubby gardener.
I do a full-body shudder at the thought. No. Whatever this is between Ash and me has a limited lifespan.
Unless he commits to gifting this property to a charity like the National Trust once he inherits, but the thought of asking him to turn his back on his heritage makes my blood run cold. He would never forgive himself for letting down his friends and family – the past generations of Berkeleys, including his late brother, and the future generations he feels a responsibility towards. From the way he was talking, he wouldn’t walk away from his duties under any circumstances.
We’re between a rock and a hard place.
I don’t know how to reply to his text message.
Hey , he texts again.
Hi , I write back.
I miss you.
His words don’t melt my insides, they make me feel sick. I stare down at my phone, the sound of Lea Michele and Cory Monteith wailing on about holding on to this feeling in the background.
I have to go away tomorrow for three days , Ash texts again, giving up on waiting for my response. Conference with my father. I’ll be back on Thursday.
OK. Hope it goes well.
Are you all right? he asks.
Confused.
Come over tonight?
The sudden rush of wanting is almost too much for me to bear.
I can’t , I force myself to type back. But I’ll see you soon.
I spend the early part of the week overseeing the volunteers, clearing the foliage and dead heads of the big round purple alliums in the walled garden to make way for the annual plants that have been grown in the greenhouses over winter. By Wednesday, I’ve moved on to helping Evan cut the box hedges in the courtyard and the topiary birds around Cedar Lawn and the lower terrace.
Although I have plenty of time to think about Ash and the impossible situation we’ve found ourselves in, my mind doesn’t race at work as it does at home.
On Thursday evening, I arrive back at the cottage to see that about a dozen or so sawmill and workshop crew are in the courtyard of the outbuildings, sitting at bench tables in the sunshine, drinking beer.
They do this occasionally, but today I notice that Celyn is there too, as well as Dylan, his fellow ranger. They look to be in high spirits about something.
I hear a door slam behind me and turn to see Sian, her face red from crying, rush up the stairs.
‘Sian?’ I hurry after her, but she’s already disappeared into her bedroom. ‘Sian? Can I come in?’ I knock tentatively and then take a chance, opening the door. She’s lying on her bed, sobbing.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ I ask with sympathy.
Her sobs begin to die down, but she keeps her face buried in the palms of her hands. Her voice is so muffled and shredded that I can barely make it out when she says: ‘My heart is broken.’
‘Who broke your heart?’
She rolls onto her back. She looks absolutely wrecked. I can see her swallowing, as though she can’t get the words out past the lump in her throat. ‘Celyn and Catrin are engaged,’ she replies, and then she bursts into a fresh set of tears. ‘We had something going once and he was so keen. I didn’t know how lucky I was so I didn’t cherish it. And now it’s too late.’
I lie on the bed beside her as she tells me all about how they met ten years ago when she was twenty and first came to work here, how they used to flirt and tease each other incessantly until one drunken night they took it to another level.
She reveals what I already know about Celyn’s younger brother Taran dying of leukaemia, and how their relationship suddenly felt heavy. She wasn’t ready to settle down and get serious in her early twenties so they ended it.
But there have been times over the years when they hooked up, and even then she took him for granted. Then Catrin came on the scene a couple of years ago and he shut it all down.
When Sian’s tears have dried up, I go downstairs to make her a cup of tea.
There’s an old grey Audi Allroad parked by the workshop now. My heart jumps at the sight of Ash getting out of the driver’s side. He goes to give Celyn a big hug, greeting the others with back pats and handshakes.
They must be celebrating Celyn’s engagement. Poor Sian.
Ash goes round to the back of the car and looks towards my cottage window before popping the boot and getting out a chunky green cool box. The lads all cheer as he carries it back to the table and opens it up to reveal their usual array of neon-coloured cans of Tiny Rebel craft beer. They dive in.
I feel nervous as I pull out my phone and text him.
Welcome back.
He looks over his shoulder towards my cottage and smiles before facing forward.
Are you watching me?
Like a creepy little stalker.
His shoulders shake and I know that he’s laughing.
I didn’t know you had a car.
My old banger.
I don’t think you can classify an Audi as an old banger.
I can. It’s eighteen years old and plays up sometimes but I love it.
Cute.
I didn’t tell you in case you made me drive you around in that instead.
Now I’m the one who’s laughing.
Celyn got engaged to Catrin today , he says.
I heard.
How’s Sian?
Does he know about them? He answers that question in his next text.
They once had a thing going. I wasn’t sure if Sian was over it.
She could probably do with one of your annoyingly long emotional hugs right now.
He looks over his shoulder, smirking, and I suddenly miss him so much it hurts.
I’ll come say hi to her once I’ve had a drink here , he replies.
Later that night, after Ash has been and gone and Sian has headed upstairs to bed, I pull on my shoes and coat and slip out the back door.
The tiny, subtle stroke he gave my arm as he was leaving still lingers on my skin two hours later and I’ve given up trying to fight this. It will end in disaster – there’s no way we’re coming out of it unscathed – but maybe if we let this thing between us burn brightly enough, the flame will fizzle out.
Or maybe it will crash and burn in a fireball so brilliant that we’ll never recover.
Either way, I’m in.