Page 8 of An Enchanted Moment on Ever After Street
I laugh, but he doesn’t. ‘Oh, you’re serious? No, funnily enough, I don’t know how to use a chainsaw. I don’t even own a chainsaw.’
‘You can borrow mine. And yes, I’ll teach you how to use it.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, unable to hide the surprise in my voice. Scary Neighbour is quickly turning into Surprising Neighbour. ‘I wasnotexpecting that.’
‘Neither was I.’ He sounds as surprised as I am, but I like his honesty.
Everything about him intrigues me, from why he calls himself a beast and stays so hidden to his blasé attitude towards shoplifters and why he’s been so unexpectedly kind tonight.
And there’s a little unwarranted flutter of excitement because it means I’ll see him again. Well, maybe notseehim, but talk to him again. It’s a promise that this isn’t a one-off thing.
There’s something so easy about talking to him. Maybe it’s because I can’t see him. It takes the pressure off. I’m not great at talking to people. I’m awkward, and rubbish at making conversation, and terrible at eye contact. People know me as the quiet bookworm who does nothing but read books and walk her cat to work every day. It doesn’t help with making friends. But there seems to be no expectation with him. This is the easiest conversation I’ve had lately, and it’s with a stranger without a name, an age, or a face. He could beanyone, but he’s nothing like what I thought he’d be.
After the despair of earlier, the panic of the letter and the shock of hurting myself, everything feels manageable again. The nettle stings have reduced to just a bit of numbness because of his tip about the dock leaves. The thorns are gone from my other hand because of his tweezers, and the garden that seemedso overwhelming an hour ago… now seems like it isn’t entirely unfixable. All because of him.
Someone who must be so lonely has made me feel less alone than I have for a very long time. And even though it’s cold and the sky is rapidly darkening, and Mrs Potts will be after me for her dinner before long, I’m lingering out here, hoping he’ll stay longer too.
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘Earlier on, I didn’t know what to do. I desperately needed someone like you to talk to, and there you were.’
‘There I was.’ He sighs. ‘You don’t need to thank me. I don’t speak to many people, and it was… unexpectedly enjoyable.’ He makes a noise of… what… pain? Like a groan, a few grunts as he moves, and the direction that his voice is coming from shifts upwards.
Now it’s my turn to laugh again. Unexpectedly enjoyable. I heave myself to my feet and turn to look at the hedge, standing on tiptoes and then bending down, hoping there might be a gap to catch even the smallest glimpse of him through the branches, but the hedge is disappointingly tight. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘As it was intended.’
It makes me feel warm in the chilly evening air as I stamp my feet up and down to get feeling back in my legs, and I can hear stomping from the other side of the hedge that suggests he’s doing the same. ‘So I guess I’ll say goodnight then…’
‘Yes. Um… goodnight…’ There’s a slight reluctance in his voice, I’m sure of it.
‘Okay. Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight.’
Surely we’re going to need an independent adjudicator to verify this world record attempt at how many times people can say goodnight in a single two-minute period? I’ve made my wayback up the path and my hand is on the door handle before he speaks again.
‘Darcy.’
‘What?’ I look at the hedge in confusion.
‘My name. It’s Darcy.’
Darcy! ‘As in, Mr Darcy?’
‘Just Darcy, but I believe that’s who my mother was thinking of. Jane Austen was her favourite author.’
‘IloveJane Austen too.Pride and Prejudiceis one of my favourite books ever, and still one of my biggest sellers, and you’re telling me that for the past few years, I’ve worked next door to someone named after Mr Darcy and this is the first I’m hearing of it?’
‘It would seem that way, yes.’
It’s a name that seems to suit him very well. Mr Darcy was cold and standoffish on the surface, but he was deep, multi-layered, and good-hearted underneath his pride. And there’s definitely more to my Scary Neighbour than meets the eye.
I hear his door click shut, but I stand on my doorstep for a while longer, looking at the hedge that separates us. This has been one of the most surprising nights of my life, andthatwas one of the most enchanting encounters I’ve ever experienced… without actually encountering anyone at all.
3
Darcy. I get a thrill every time I think of his name. And it’s not just that – it’s the fact hetoldme. He revealed something about himself, something that he clearly wasn’t intending to reveal earlier in our conversation last night.
As Mrs Potts and I walk to work, I delete a text from Rick, suggesting a weekend trip to Paris to ‘reacquaint ourselves with our lost love’ which is so sickening, it nearly makes me lose my breakfast. Because Rick uses sentences like that and can afford things like skipping off to Paris at the drop of a hat, because he has no adult responsibilities whatsoever. I nearly type a reply asking how many times he’s taken Shannon to Paris, but I don’t, because the best thing I can do with Rick is ignore him. A reply, even one that tells him exactly where he can shove his Eiffel Tower, suggests that I care, and if he thinks I care, it will be a weakness for him to chip away at, and there are already enough of them. My mum loved Rick, she thought he’d be my happily ever after, and he reminds me of that regularly.
