Anything but Vanilla(69)
He hit the sack, but didn’t sleep and after an hour he checked his inbox, again. Around one in the morning—lunchtime in Longbourne—he gave up and rang her mobile, telling himself that he just wanted to be sure that she was okay.
His call went straight to voicemail and the moment he heard her voice telling him she couldn’t answer right now but if he left a message she’d get back to him, he knew he was kidding himself.
He wanted to hold her, wanted to be with her, wanted to talk to her but he was cut off, disconnected, out on a limb. It was the place he’d chosen to be. Right now, though, it felt as if someone were sawing through the branch and he were falling...
Sorrel had become part of his life and, without noticing, he’d begun to take it for granted that she always would be. The truth, hitting him up the side of the head, was that he couldn’t imagine a day passing without her being a part of it. Couldn’t imagine his life without her...
‘Alex...’ his research assistant, an Aussie PhD student taking a year out to do field work, stuck his head around the hut door ‘...one of the runners has brought in something you’ll want to see.’
It was a leaf from the plant he’d been hunting for three years.
‘It’s not a myth,’ he said, touching it briefly. Then he looked up. ‘Go with him, Peter. You know what to do.’
‘Me? This is your big moment, man!’
‘It doesn’t matter who brings it in,’ he said, throwing his things into a bag. ‘I’m going home.’
‘You’ve got a family emergency?’
‘Something like that.’
* * *
‘I can’t believe you’ve been working here on your own all weekend, Sorrel. What happened to the Jackson brothers?’
Sorrel eased her aching shoulder.
‘Their mother was rushed into hospital on Thursday and I didn’t have anything to do.’ Well, apart from puddle-jumping and that was no fun on your own. ‘It was just the finishing touches.’
She stood back, rubbing the inside of her arm against her cheek. It came away smeared with paint and she used the hem of Alexander’s T-shirt to wipe it off her face. She’d worn it on purpose, wanting the paint to obliterate his scent.
She had to stop sleeping with it tucked under her pillow so that she could catch his scent. Had to stop sending him little texts to keep him close and had to stop checking her inbox every five minutes, stop living for his replies.
She had to stop kidding herself that he would expect her to be waiting for him when he came back. He’d never even hinted that he wanted her to wait. On the contrary, he’d made it plain that he wasn’t interested in that kind of commitment and his last message had been a wake up call.
He’d been honest with her. The least she could do was be honest with herself.
She had to live now, not for some fleeting blue moon moment that might never happen.
‘Are you okay, Sorrel? You look...’ Elle hesitated. ‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll clean up here and then I’m going to walk home.’
‘Walk?’
‘It’s stopped raining. The fresh air will blow away the cobwebs.’
‘And the smell of paint.’
‘That, too.’
* * *
It was late afternoon when the taxi pulled up in front of Gable End. Alexander paid the driver and walked around to the rear of the house. Midge greeted him with enthusiasm. The new puppy attacked his boots. He picked him up, tucked him under his arm and walked into the kitchen.
Basil looked round from the stove and beamed with pleasure. ‘Alexander! Sorrel didn’t say you were coming.’
‘It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Is she here?’
‘She’s been working at KG’s all weekend. Putting the finishing touches.’
‘On her own?’
‘That’s what she wanted. Elle just dropped in to see how she was doing. Apparently she’s decided to walk home. Needs the fresh air.’
‘I’ll go and meet her.’
* * *
The river was running fast, the ducks had taken to the bank and there was no one out on the water. She had the towpath puddles to herself.
She hadn’t replied to Alexander’s suggestion she jump in one and he hadn’t sent another. Clearly he’d felt obliged to respond to hers and she had been making more of it than it was.