Surprise Me(64)

‘This is amazing,’ I say as we approach. ‘Are these all the same kind of plant?’

‘They are all varieties of fern,’ says Professor Russell with that glimmering smile he has, as though sharing a private joke with someone. (His plants, probably.) ‘Ferns are my particular interest.’

‘Look, Tessa.’ I point through the glass panes. ‘Professor Russell has written books about these ferns. He knows everything about them.’

‘“Knows everything about them”?’ Professor Russell echoes. ‘Oh my goodness, no. Oh no, no, no. I’m only just beginning to fathom their mysteries.’

‘You’ve been studying plants at school, haven’t you, darling?’ I say to Tessa. ‘You grew cress, didn’t you?’ I’m suddenly wondering if we could get Professor Russell to go into the girls’ primary school and give a talk. I would get major brownie points.

‘Plants need water,’ recites Tessa, on cue. ‘Plants grow towards the light.’

‘Quite right.’ Professor Russell beams benevolently at her, and I feel a swell of pride. Look at my five-year-old, discussing botany with an Oxford professor!

‘Do people grow towards the light?’ Tessa says, in that joking way she has.

I’m about to say, ‘Of course not, darling!’ and share an amused glance with Professor Russell. But he says mildly, ‘Yes, my dear. I believe we do.’

Oh, OK. That tells me.

‘We have, of course, many different kinds of light,’ Professor Russell continues, almost dreamily. ‘Sometimes our light might be a faith, or an ideology, or even a person, and we grow towards that.’

‘We grow towards a person?’ Tessa finds this hilarious. ‘Towards a person?’

‘Of course.’ His eyes focus on something beyond my shoulder and I turn to see Owen coming down the path.

I haven’t seen Owen close up for a while, and there’s something about him that makes me catch my breath. He looks translucent, somehow. Frailer than I remember. His white hair is sparse and his bony hands are painfully thin.

‘Good morning,’ he says to me in a charming though hoarse voice. ‘I came to see if our visitors would like coffee.’

‘Oh, no thanks,’ I say quickly. ‘We’re just here to get our toy. Sorry for all the noise,’ I add. ‘I know we make a bit of a racket.’

I can see Professor Russell’s eyes meeting Owen’s briefly, and I’m suddenly sure without a doubt that they’ve heard me and Dan fighting. Great. But almost at once, Owen smiles kindly at me.

‘Not at all. Nothing to apologize for. We enjoy hearing the children play.’ He eyes the broom in my hand. ‘Ah. Now that’s ingenious.’

‘Well,’ I say doubtfully. ‘We’ll see.’

‘Don’t wait out here.’ Professor Russell pats Owen’s hand. ‘You can watch our efforts from the conservatory.’

As Owen retreats towards the house, I extend the broom handle and reach up, and after just a few jabs, the stomp rocket falls down into my arms.

‘Well done!’ applauds Professor Russell. Then he turns to Tessa. ‘And now, my dear, may I give you a little plant as a souvenir? You’ll have to water it, mind, and look after it.’

‘Oh, that would be lovely!’ I exclaim. ‘Thank you!’

I’m thinking: I’ll put Dan in charge of the plant. That is, if he really is into gardening and not just into dimpled ex-girlfriends.

Professor Russell potters into the greenhouse and emerges with a small green frondy thing in a pot.

‘Give it some light, but not too much,’ he says, his eyes twinkling at her. ‘And watch how it grows.’

Tessa takes the pot, then looks up at him expectantly. ‘But we need one for Anna,’ she says.

‘Tessa!’ I exclaim, appalled. ‘You don’t say that! You say, “Thank you for the lovely plant.” Anna’s her twin,’ I explain apologetically to Professor Russell. ‘They look out for each other. You can share it with Anna,’ I add to Tessa.

‘Not at all!’ says Professor Russell at once. ‘Tessa’s quite right. How could we forget Anna?’

He darts back into the greenhouse and produces a second little plant.

I wince. ‘I’m so sorry. Tessa, you mustn’t ask for things.’

‘Nonsense!’ Professor Russell winks at Tessa. ‘If we don’t stick up for the ones we love, then what are we good for?’

As Tessa sinks to her haunches and begins examining the plants more closely, Professor Russell’s gaze drifts again over my shoulder. I turn and see that he’s watching Owen, who is settling himself in one of the Ercol chairs in the conservatory, a blanket over his knees. I can see Professor Russell mouthing, ‘Are you all right?’ and Owen nodding.

‘How long have you two been …’ I ask softly, not quite sure how to put it. I’m fairly sure they’re not just friends, but you can never be sure.

‘We knew each other as schoolboys,’ says Professor Russell mildly.

‘Oh, right,’ I say, taken aback. ‘Wow. That’s a long time. So …’

‘At that time, Owen didn’t realize his … true nature, shall we say.’ Professor Russell blinks at me. ‘He married … I devoted myself to research … We found each other again eight years ago. In answer to what I believe you are asking, I have loved him for fifty-nine years. Much of it from afar, of course.’ He gives that glimmering smile again.