Page 12 of The Player

I grimace. “Some big shrubs that I can throw myself into when Lucy comes a-calling.” He chuckles, and I smile at him. He’s incredibly dear to me and looks so warm and rumpled. I tear my eyes away and look around. “Let’s get very establishedshrubs and bushes. Then I can forget all about them until this time next year.”

“Okay.” He starts to wheel the trolley away, and I grab it. He looks at me enquiringly.

“Let’s make them scented. If I’m doing this for the village, the least I should get out of it is something nice to smell.”

“You and your addiction to nice smells,” he says, steering us down one of the aisles. Plants crowd over us like a green wall. “That’s one of the things I love most about your house. It always smells gorgeous. Like one of your candles.”

“You could have that in your own house,” I say pointedly. “You just have to put in some walls and doors first.” I pause. “And buy some furniture.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’ll get round to it eventually.”

I shoot him a soft look. Con lives in his parents’ old house that he inherited when they died. It was in a state of disrepair as they’d been doing it up, and although Con carries on the work, he does it in such a slow fashion that snails must envy him. It’s a way for him to keep them with him, the same way that he wears his father’s wedding ring.

“You are right, though,” I say. “I do love nice things. It’s silly, I know.”

He stops dead. “Why is that silly?”

I shrug. “Well, David always used to take the piss. Said I was a terrible homebody.”

“What’s terrible about liking your home?” He shakes his head. “It’s a sad fact that if he’d liked his home a bit more, he’d probably still be with us.”

I stare at him, imagining that scenario. But the truth is that I wouldn’t be comfortable living with David now. If I ever really was. I’ve grown far beyond the boy he knew.

“You alright?” Con asks, and I look at him, standing tall and golden amongst the flowers, the tattoos on his arms as familiar to me as a loved painting.

I’m comfortable with you, I think wistfully.

“Fine,” I say. “Let’s pick some plants that Lucy will fucking hate.”

He chuckles, and we spend the next hour wandering the garden centre companionably.

It’s getting dark by the time he pulls up outside my house. I release my seat belt and look at him as a thought occurs to me. “You never got your plants, Con.”

He looks startled. “What plants?”

“The ones you were going to the garden centre to get.”

“Oh, those plants.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Well, it’s probably for the best. The weather will turn soon.”

“And what has been your excuse for all the other years?”

He grins at me. “I don’t have green fingers.”

“I don’t think you’ll have a hand left if you attempt to tackle the blackberry bushes around the back of your house. I’m pretty sure Princess Aurora is there and still waiting for her prince’s kiss.”

His eyes sparkle. “Oh, yes, and where is he?”

“He made one attempt and then gave up. He’s currently in witness protection to save him from Lucy Scrimshaw.”

He laughs out loud, and I jerk as he reaches out and brushes a loose strand of my hair back. “Con?” I ask.

The silence seems to spin out into a moment that thrums with sudden energy.

“Frankie, I need to tell you that?—”

We both jump as there’s a bang on the bonnet of his truck. When I look, I see a tall, good-looking man with shaggy dark hair grinning at us.

I lean out of the window and glare at my neighbour. “Can we help you, Max?”

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