Page 25 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
I laugh because we have a similar approach to haircare. ‘Same. When I realise I can’t see, I snip at my fringe and then regret it when it ends up looking like a drunken Edward Scissorhands has gone to town on me.’
He laughs but still doesn’t offer anything more.
‘Eye colour?’ I prompt, stomping down a patch of stinging nettles and moving onto a green thing with thick bristly stems that’s towering above me.
‘Bl— DON’T CUT THAT!’
I freeze in shock at his sudden bellow, wondering how he can even see what I’m doing and what plant would cause that volume in his reaction.
‘Don’t go near it! Just back away slowly and I’ll…’ He makes a noise of frustration and I’m convinced I hear him throwing his hands up in the air. ‘I’ll be right over. Just give me a few minutes, okay?’
‘Okay…’ I say to the sound of his footsteps going up his garden and inside his shop. I look at the plant in front of me. I have no idea what it is. It looks innocuous enough but it must be something serious to cause that response, and… he’s coming round. Really? After all these days of talking with the hedge between us, in a matter of minutes, he’s going to be in my garden. Face to face after so long wondering what his face might look like…
I’d started to think I was never going to see him and I can’t help the little flutter that starts in my belly and moves up to my chest at the thought. Maybe he’ll let me give him that hug I wanted so badly the other day.
‘That’s giant hogweed.’
I’ve been so caught up in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard his gate opening and the voice behind me makes me squeakin surprise as Darcy reaches over to unlatch my gate and lets himself in.
‘It’s got phototoxic sap. If you get it on your skin, it causes severe burns. Even brushing against it is dangerous. You can’t just cut it willy-nilly. Did you get it on you?’ He sounds worried as he strides across the garden and holds his hand open, palm up, demanding I show him my hands. I’m wearing gardening gloves but hold my hands out in front of me and look up at him.
I don’t know why I expected him to be disguise-less, but he isn’t. He’s wearing jeans and a black coat, a baseball cap pulled down to his eyebrows, a scarf pulled up over his nose, and a pair of dark glasses that block out any remaining strip of his face that might be visible. A pair of thick black gloves cover his hands. This must be why he went back inside – to don all of this.
And I know it shouldn’t, but the sight of this grouchy figure dressed all in black, using the term ‘willy-nilly’ has brought out my inner child and such an unserious word coming from someone so serious makes me giggle.
‘Burns are not funny,’ he snarls.
‘No, of course not.’ I swallow and try to straighten my face, wondering if that answers something about him. The consensus of the other shopkeepers on Ever After Street has always been that he’s hiding burn scars, so maybe the rumours aren’t too far off base.
He twists a finger around, gesturing for me to turn my hands over, which I dutifully do, and he peers at my gloves through his dark glasses, and then makes a noise that I interpret to mean that they pass inspection so I drop my hands, and he goes to stride away.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say quickly because the last thing I want him to do is leave. ‘It wasn’t the potential sap burns that were funny, it was the “willy-nilly”. It’s such a good word and you donotseem like the type of person who’d use a word like that, and…’ I trailoff because his hidden face gives me no clue as to whether he’s about to yell at me or stalk off like this never happened.
Until he starts laughing. I didn’t realise how tense his shoulders were until they drop as the laugh overtakes him. ‘You’re absolutely right. Willy-nilly is one of the best words and I endeavour to use it as often as possible.’
I can’t help grinning at the utterly unforeseen way tonight has gone, and he takes an awkward step back towards me. ‘Sorry, Marnie. I’m not very good at seeing people face to face.’
I can’t tear my eyes away from this figure standing so close to me. He’s tall, an inch or two over six feet at a guess, and strong built. The garb he’s wearing doesn’t hide the expanse of his chest and well-defined arms that undoubtedly come from outdoor work. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever see you.’
‘If only it had stayed that way,’ he mutters. ‘I shouldn’t be here.’
‘Well, you’re here now. Why don’t I make you a cuppa?’
‘No, tha—’
‘Please, Darcy,’ I say instantly. ‘Don’t go yet.’
He turns towards the hedge, looking as if he desperately wants to be on the other side of it and then he looks back towards me. ‘Go on then.’ He sounds reluctant and confused, like he isn’t sure why he’s saying it, and then he goes over to the gatepost where Mrs Potts is watching on. He strokes her and picks her up, and she meows and rubs at him as he brings her back up the garden and deposits her into my arms. ‘I’ll get rid of the giant hogweed. Just go inside anddon’tlet Mrs Potts out; you do not want her getting this stuff on herself.’
I go to argue that I can help, but even without a millimetre of his face visible, I know he’s glaring at me, so I hurry back inside before he changes his mind, and run upstairs to keep an eye on him from the window, although I’m not watching to see what hedoes with the hogweed – I’m watching to make sure he doesn’t have a chance to run away.
He goes out the gate and returns with another pair of gloves that he pulls on over his other gloves, and a shovel, and I watch as he shoves it into the earth and rams it down with his foot, digging around the giant plant without cutting it, like he knows exactly what to do.
I wait until he uses the shovel to lever the huge rootball and towering plant out of the ground as one, and then quickly set about making the teas and go back outside, leaving the door ajar in case Mrs Potts wants to join us again.
He comes back in the gate, the extra pair of gloves have gone as well as the plant, and he’s breathing hard, like the rootball put up more of a fight than I could tell from upstairs.
‘Thanks, Darcy. Tea’s ready.’ I give the tray in my hands a jiggle. ‘Do you want to sit down?’
