‘Let’s just say I have a deep inner world that doesn’t look like New York.’ She gestured to the house around her. ‘I have hardly spent any time here and yet it feels more like home than New York ever did.’
‘Maybe you’re just one of those people who like the country,’ he said.
Amanda nodded. ‘Maybe. What about you? City or country mouse?’
‘I’m a city mouse through and through,’ he said. ‘Born and bred in London and my mum’s still there, although she hates it. She would love this.’
Amanda moved some hair out of her eyes that had sprung from her bun and she grinned at him. ‘Does she like to garden? If she can identify a weed at thirty paces, then she can come and stay.’
Simon rolled his eyes. ‘God, she would love that but no, let’s leave her in London.’
He felt a pang of guilt as he spoke, knowing his mother would be worried about him, but he couldn’t tell her where he was, because he didn’t want Charlie and Anika to know.
Amanda moved to the table with the book. ‘Can you bring the seeds over? I’m going to read this now and get my head around it. I need to visualise it.’
Simon nodded. ‘Do you mind if I take this tea into the garden? I’ll bring the mug back.’
Amanda nodded as well, already engaged in the book. ‘Sure thing, I’ll be here.’
Simon walked to the back door and opened it.
‘Hey,’ he heard her say and he turned around. She was sitting at the old-fashioned table, a pendant light from the 1960s above her, with yellow-painted walls surrounding her. A ribbon of light ran from the window across her.
‘Your hair,’ he said. ‘It’s copper, not red.’
She reached up and touched it, perhaps a little self-consciously. ‘Yes, butterscotch my mom used to say.’
‘I can see that,’ he said with a smile.
‘I wanted to say’—she seemed awkward—‘I mean, I’m glad we spoke. It would be great if we could be friends. I don’t know anyone here, so, you know, it’d be good to have a partner in the garden…’ Her voice trailed off into nothing and he wondered if she was biting the inside of her lip.
‘I was grumpy when we met earlier today.’
Amanda smiled at him. ‘Yes, you were being a bit of a donkey,’ she said.
Simon laughed. ‘I know, I thought I was being like Eeyore.’
‘That’s his name, I was trying to remember,’ Amanda said.
Simon laughed. ‘I can’t believe you called me a donkey – that’s exactly what I was thinking.’
He had spent the last few months avoiding people. He rode alone, he lived alone, he worked alone as much as possible and now, he had his own bed, a commitment to a project, and a lovely girl asking to be his friend.
‘Of course we can be friends,’ he heard himself say. He was surprised at his answer but it would be hard to avoid talking to her and she would have to plan the garden with him since she was the owner.
‘Great, I’m super excited,’ she said.
‘Well I better get on with it then,’ he said, and he closed the door behind him, wondering what on earth he had just committed himself to.
*
Diana – 1960s
It was becoming tiresome to keep lying to her parents about where she was most days and nights.
Her mother must have known she wasn’t with Helen every day as she claimed, but she seemed happy to turn a blind eye to Diana’s comings and goings.
Perhaps her mother thought Diana needed to get her youthful exploits out of her system, as she had said about other girls Diana’s age who went and did things that her mother considered outrageous such as learning to type and going to university.
