He leaned forwards then, every cell in my body standing to attention as he slowly, carefully, so softly I had to convince myself later that it had really happened, brushed his mouth against my cheek.
I was still standing there, wondering how on earth a minuscule peck on the cheek could be the best kiss of my life, and then he’d gone.
15
My second week at Riverbend continued in much the same manner as the first. While Hattie was busy with clients or holed up in her half of the studio, I explored more of the surrounding countryside with the dogs, delighting at how spring unfolded all around us on the beautiful, sunshiny days, squelching home to a hot shower and change of clothes on the mornings we encountered a March shower. I also had time to research some of the more collectable items we’d discovered in the attic and do plenty of reading.
I visited Agnes on Tuesday, when Gideon was working too far away to pop back for lunch, resisting the invitation to hang around until he’d finished for the day. I spent a lot of time, especially when pacing through the fields and forest, thinking. About Gideon, inevitably. My family, as always. More so about the choices I’d made since I’d lost them. Choices I’d made to protect myself. To create a life that was manageable. Meaningful. Or so I’d thought.
On Tuesday evening, I video-called Ezra.
‘Do you think I’ve got it wrong, living like this?’ I asked once Naomi had herded the children off to bed.
‘Choosing to stay in a fantastic house in the countryside, working with a famous artist?’ He looked at me sideways.
‘No, I mean my whole life. Living in a motorhome, moving every few weeks.’ I paused, blinked a few times. ‘Not having any real friends or family apart from you guys.’
‘It’s your life, Soph. How you live it is up to you.’
‘No. Don’t do that. You’ve been giving me advice my whole life, and it’s never been unwelcome.’
‘Really? Back in your David Bowie fromLabyrinthphase, every suggestion I made, you made a point of doing the opposite.’
I couldn’t help laughing. ‘I’ll have you know I was going for Britney, not Bowie. And I was trying to prove how grown-up and independent I was. Even back then, I knew I’d be better off listening to you. You’ve got every right to have an opinion. You and Naomi understand why I needed to live like this, why having a home was too hard for me. Why I won’t risk giving my heart to another person again. But what if I’m wrong? Or at least it’s not necessarily what’s right for me now? What if it’s just keeping me miserable and lonely? What if love – or some proper friends – are worth the risk of losing them?’
‘Is this that guy Gideon?’ he asked, dark eyes scrutinising me through the screen.
I blew out an irritated sigh. ‘Seriously, Ezra?’
He leaned closer. ‘Yes. I’m serious. This isn’t me teasing, like when you had a crush on the postman. The first time in years you want to talk about how the death of your family might have impacted your major decisions? Of course I’m serious. Have you finally met someone who could help you to see that there is life after loss?’
I gripped my head with both hands. ‘I don’t know… I don’t know if I can think anything real about him yet. It’s more this place. Hattie, and her friends. Agnes. I’ve got to know some wonderful families, who responded to their grief with love and care. But I’ve always seen that astheirlove,theirfamily. Nothing to do with me beyond the job I was paid to do. Here, I don’t know. Outside the farmhouse, this is the first place since leaving Birmingham that I’ve felt a part of.’
‘And how does that feel?’
‘Like I’m crouching in the doorway to a plane at ten thousand feet, wondering whether to jump.’ I stopped, swallowed back the crack in my voice. ‘What do I do, Ezra? Should I jump?’
Ezra spoke carefully. He knew how big a deal this was. ‘You’ve been there less than a fortnight. It sounds like there’s a lot to think about. My advice is that you take a few breaths, give yourself some time, keep doing your job, taking it all in and, most importantly, that you give me the surname and date of birth of this Gideon bloke so I can do a full background check before deciding whether he’s good enough for you.’
‘Okay. Yes to all of those except the last one.’
‘Did you not hear me say that’s the most important?’ He pointed at me. ‘That one was an order.’
‘Thank you, Ezra. I love you. Give the kids a goodnight kiss from me.’
‘Um, hello? Name and date of birth!’
As always, my friend left behind a smile on my face.
* * *
Hattie had told me only a little more of her story as we’d worked through boxes of paperwork, old books and other leftovers from her early childhood. She’d offered the odd anecdote relating to a particular stuffed animal and a sketchbook we found, but for the most part had remained focussed on the business side of our mission.
On Wednesday afternoon, we prised the lid off a scuffed, wooden crate, about a foot square. Hattie sat back so quickly, she almost fell.
‘I’d almost forgotten about this,’ she whispered, blue eyes round with wonder. ‘I found it in the chapel after my father’s funeral.’
‘Do you know what it is?’ I asked as she reverently lifted out a velvet bag, wondering if this was some much older history.
