Chapter Thirty-Five
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
When I come to, the rain has slowed to a gentle drumming. I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling.
No wonder this room is so light – it has two big skylights. I lift my head and smile. There, on a high raised platform accessed by a wooden ladder, is his big white telescope. My heart floods with love.
Sitting up fully, I notice my suitcase on the floor. What? How did he get that?
I climb out of bed and open it up, riffling through the contents until I find jeans, a T-shirt, a jumper and fresh underwear. I get dressed quickly and come out of the bedroom to the smell of frying bacon.
‘Hey,’ I say.
Ash is at the hob. He gives me a quick once-over before returning his attention to what he’s doing.
‘How did you get my suitcase?’
‘I found your car key in your bag. Didn’t think you’d mind. Took it to a charging station before driving it back down here. Figured you could do with some clothes that fit.’
‘That’s amazing, thank you. I really appreciate it.’
I kind of liked wearing his clothes, but there’s no doubting I look better in mine.
‘It was like a jumble sale in your boot,’ he gripes.
‘I was cold in the middle of the night. I was just dragging on what I could find. Didn’t exactly have a chance to repack neatly. Thank you for bringing my car back.’
‘Should make your getaway easier.’
I frown at him. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you pick me up and— Actually, forget I said that. I don’t want to give you any ideas.’
He’s perfectly capable of picking me up and putting me wherever he wants to. Ash 3.0 is built like a Marvel superhero.
And there it is: his lips curving upwards at the corners.
‘Aha!’ I shout, pointing at his face.
‘What?’
‘I just saw a smile under that beard!’
‘That wasn’t a smile, it was a smirk.’
‘Whatever. I’ll take it.’
He returns to flipping bacon.
‘Are you hungry?’ he asks in a low murmur.
‘Famished. What can I do?’
‘Sit down. There’s not really room for two in this kitchen.’
‘Rubbish.’ I get up and slip into the space between the right-hand side of his body and the counter, reaching up to the shelf to bring down his two aluminium plates. ‘It’s almost as though you knew I was coming. Two plates. Two mugs. Have you got two sets of cutlery too?’
I’ve woken up perky.
‘I like to have a spare set. That’s all I need.’
‘We might have to nip to the shops and get a couple more sets then.’
He sighs. ‘What are you doing, Ellie?’
I turn around to face him. ‘I’m making myself at home. Hope that’s okay.’
‘Not really, no.’
‘Do you want me to leave?’ I ask. ‘Honestly?’
He meets my eyes. ‘Better now than later.’
‘How about you give me a week?’
‘What’s the point in that?’
‘You might fall in love with me and ask me to stay forever.’
I’m trying to sound bright and flippant, but the shakiness in my voice betrays my anxiety.
His eyes flare wide, and then he puts down his spatula, switches off the hob and takes a couple of steps towards the windows, dragging his hand over his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say sombrely as he scratches his jaw. ‘I don’t mean to make light of this. I just want to spend some time with you.’
It’s exactly what he said to me when I started working at Berkeley Hall.
He turns around and studies me for a moment and I wonder if he’s remembering the same thing.
‘Lunch is getting cold,’ he says wearily, returning to the kitchen.
‘Shall I slice some bread?’
‘There are fresh rolls in that bag.’ He nods at a white paper bag that wasn’t there earlier.
‘Have you been shopping?’
‘Made the most of your car. Knife’s there.’ He nods at a knife block.
We eat our bacon baps at the table, sitting on the built-in bench seats. I bring my knee up and twist to face him.
‘I saw your telescope in the bedroom.’
‘Bit hard to miss.’
‘You still love the stars?’
‘Always.’
‘Do you work at the Spaceguard Centre?’
‘No, I volunteer and use the observatory occasionally.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever go back and do your master’s?’
He lifts his shoulders and looks down at his plate.
His answers are coming much more slowly than my questions. I’m guessing he’s out of practice with carrying on a conversation.
Will I ever get the old Ash back? I wonder with a pang. What if he’s a different person now, set in stone?
We take things easy that afternoon. I’m acutely aware that I’m in a space that Ash has never had to share, so I don’t harass him with questions and in turn he barely speaks to me. We sit in silence and listen to the rain, watching it fall in sheets outside the windows. When I grab a book out of my suitcase, he takes one down from his shelf and we read side by side in the butterfly chairs.
It’s nice, peaceful. It’s restorative.
‘Are you planning on finding somewhere to stay tonight?’ he asks when it starts growing dark.
‘Will you let me stay here?’ I ask tentatively. ‘I can sleep on …’ I look around the room. ‘The floor?’
The corner of his mouth twitches. I stare at him with anticipation, my insides lifting … And then he drops his gaze and shakes his head.
My stomach swoops. I’m not sure how many more of these mini rejections I’m going to be able to bounce back from.
‘You can stay,’ he surprises me by saying.
And I’m up again, soaring towards the treetops.
‘Really?’ I ask hopefully.
He nods, letting his eyes rest on mine for a beat. ‘Sleep in the bed, just … let’s … let’s just not—’
‘Okay.’ I cut him off before I die of embarrassment.
Ash clears out one of two deep built-in drawers under the end of his bed for me so I can unpack and then he takes my empty bag to deposit in the garage. His tiny home definitely can’t accommodate a bulky suitcase.
We call it a night after a light meal, with Ash asking me to get ready first. I don’t know if it’s a tactic to remove me from his space, but half an hour passes without him even so much as using the bathroom. I’m not tired after my earlier nap, so I switch on a reading lamp fixed to the wall and continue with my book.
Eventually I see him walk past into the bathroom and the surreal feeling comes over me again. I suddenly feel uneasy as I place my book down on the shelf behind the bed and shut off the light.
Have I made a mistake coming here? I’m isolated out in the woods with a man who has changed and moved on. What makes me think I can integrate myself into this new life that he’s forged for himself? What if it’s impossible?
He’s right: I was the one to leave. And he never called. He believed me when I told him that I never wanted to see him again.
I hear the bathroom door open and a moment later Ash comes into the room.
My breathing has grown shallow. I’m facing the wall, but I hear him flip back the cover on his side of the bed, and then I feel the mattress compress as he crawls into place, drawing the duvet over himself.
He looks different. He smells different. Who is this man I’m sharing a bed with? And can I truly still love him if I don’t know who he is?
I lie awake long after his own breathing begins to settle.