And I did. For nearly fifty minutes, I pulled weeds in my little haven. Cee-Cee had kept shears and a fork in a small storage box in one corner, and once the weeds were mostly gone, I started pruning back the bushes. Whether they needed pruning, or how to prune them, I had no clue, but the point was I had both feet firmly planted on outside territory, the gentle kiss of November sunshine on my skin, and I was, quite literally, reclaiming ground.
Until, suddenly – maybe I’d simply used up my courage for that day – I couldn’t. Unable even to divert the few feet to put the shears back in the box, I bolted inside, slamming the door behind me.
Still, I reflected later, when safely under my duvet, it was a magnificent step forward. That brief time outside had begun restoring something askew in my soul. Working on something tangible, soaking up the sunshine, marvelling at the vibrant colours of the plants, the details in the leaves and bright contrast of the berries had been like a balm to my frayed heart. The air felt different in the daylight. Clearer. Richer. More alive. And, to my joy and wonder, in a deep, soft place below the buzz of the anxiety, I had felt those things, too.
* * *
I was roused from my brief celebratory snooze by the thumps and crashes of multiple hungry teenagers marauding through the house in search of snacks. Hauling myself out of bed (being brave apparently used up a lot of energy), I tidied myself up and went to say hello, dodging the mound of giant school shoes and black rucksacks in the hallway.
‘Mum, have we got more popcorn?’ Joey yelled.
I followed the scent of hormone-infused body spray into the kitchen. ‘Hi, Joey, how lovely to have you home. How was your day? Oh, and I’m great, thanks for asking.’ I grinned at the other boys. ‘Hey, everyone. Popcorn’s in the cupboard where crisps used to live. Are you guys okay?’
Joey’s swim club friends were all various stages of okay, ranging from ‘sound’ to ‘awesome’. I began hustling them into the living room, so I could get some admin done at my desk, but while they were still bottlenecked in the obstacle-ridden hallway, I heard one ask, ‘Did you tell your mum about the scout?’
The hair on the back of my neck pricked up. No offence to the others, but there was only one member of the Brooksby swim team worth scouting. And he’d already been scouted by the best club in the region.
‘Shut up,’ Joey hissed. I poked my head round the kitchen doorway and found him shoving the others into the living room as fast as he could. ‘Of course I haven’t. Stop stirring.’
He banged the door shut, muffling the sound of boy banter, and I hesitated for only a moment before settling down to my accounts. Pursuing this now might mean a better chance of finding out the truth from the other boys, but then secrets might end up being revealed on both sides. And mine would result in far wider consequences.
I could grill Joey once his friends had left, inviting accusations of earwigging and potentially a total clam-up. Or, I could try another tactic altogether.
* * *
I’d barely spoken to Nathan the day before, since he’d arrived at the café just as I was leaving. But when he texted me that evening, it made my cheeks warm up and a tiny sparkler fizz away inside my heart.
I made myself wait one minute and thirty-five seconds before I read the text. There is no significance to that number, except that ninety seconds seemed reasonable and it took another five seconds for me to stop fumbling with my phone and open the message.
You snuck off yesterday without arranging challenge 2. Feeling chicken?
Feeling busy! I had to get home for a conference call.
Yet you had time to stop and chat to Audrey. Or should I say CLUCK to Audrey?
Ha ha (if I knew what emoji indicated sarcasm I’d add it now – as I don’t, I’m sending this one of fries as I’m guessing that will irritate you the most), I’m not discussing our challenge in front of the Larks. We’d never hear the end of it.
What’s it to be, then? Lunch in the café?
I thought about that. I desperately wanted to conquer spending some daylight hours in public, after my victory in the garden. But there was something I wanted – needed – to conquer more.
I want to watch Joey train. From the right side of the window.
A speedy response:
Cool. Tomorrow evening?
Okay. And we’ll go somewhere random and spontaneous afterwards. My choice.
A much slower response to that:
Deal.
It might require a shirt. And non-trainers. I haven’t decided yet.
I’m looking forward to it
(a row of chicken emojis).
