Page 35 of Once Upon a Thyme
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The little farm shop on the outskirts of the village had already put its raised tables out, and I left Zeb in the car so I could pick up the bread, soup and potatoes for Mum, plus a pint of milk as she’d almost certainly have forgotten that too. After a second’s thought, I threw a packet of biscuits, some butter, a couple of tins of beans and some fresh veg in too. Mum could be surprisingly unfocused when she shopped, and I’d got used to turning up to almost empty cupboards after she’d supposedly done a ‘big shop’.
Driving further on we met The Goshawk Traders’mini cavalcade coming the other way and I had to stop in a gateway to allow them through, with much waving and mugging out of windows on their part. Mika was sitting next to Tessa I noticed. I also noticed him blow me an exaggerated kiss as our vehicles slid past each other, unnaturally squashed into proximity by walls of bramble and exuberant dog roses. There was the bitter smell of torn Herb Robert too.
‘He’s such a tit,’ Zeb observed mildly.
I thought of Mika’s dark concentration when he looked at my face and the way my heart galloped into my throat when I had his attention. Of his casual, easy affection when he draped himself over me and his assurance that we should have lunch and he should show me his garden. Part of me wanted to agree with Zeb – some of that casual affection came dangerously close to unwanted physical touch, and it was easy for him to hint at future meetings that he never intended to carry out. But always in the background was thatpossibility, that small treacherous feeling that maybe Mika saw me as more than a gardener. Perhaps he saw through this chrysalis of dirty jeans and messy hair and duty to the – what? The bright social butterfly who would travel, live out of suitcases, unbothered and unfazed by the weirdnesses of life on the road? Ha!
‘He’s all right really.’ I steered the tight corner that led to the bridge. ‘He’s just… effusive.’
The car bucked its way over the high rise of the single span bridge and down into the village. I parked beside the road and we got out to cross the stones that were the most direct way to my mother’s front door. When the water was high, I had to go around the long way, back over the bridge and down the little lane, but I liked it best when I could step over the four solid flags. They were mossed and their edges trailed weed into the water, but they were securely fixed and pleasantly spongey underfoot.
‘Is this where you grew up?’ Zeb angled his head, looking up at the little house, with its deep eaves which gave it a look of slight puzzlement as they frowned over leaded windows.
‘No. Mum and Dad actually started out in one of those houses down there.’ I pointed to the terrace of farmworkers’ cottages which fronted the road further down. ‘I was born in the middle one, apparently. When Mum wanted to move back to the village, she bought this place.’ I put my hand on the gate.
‘Bit of a step up,’ Zeb observed, pulling at theGertrude Jekyllrose which was supposed to grow over the archway into the front garden, but was currently untidily sprawling its way down through the hedge.
I didn’t reply and we walked up the narrow brick path – which, I noticed, also needed weeding. I’d have to come down with my tools one day soon – and in through the unlocked front door.
‘Mum! I’m here, I brought the shopping!’ I called down the hallway. Only dust answered me, hanging in curtains in the light that came through from the bright kitchen at the back. ‘How are you feeling?’
A bump from above.
‘Zeb’s come with me,’ I called again, just to forestall any intent she may have to appear on the staircase,deshabilleand dishevelled, dragged from her bed by a desire to see what I’d brought.
‘Lovely, darling,’ came the drawled reply. ‘I won’t come down, I’m really unwell today.’
‘But are you all right?’ I asked, in one of those peculiar ironic statements that seem to run in families. ‘Do you need me to call the doctor or anything?’
‘No, no.’ Her voice was faint. ‘I’ll be all right if I can have a good sleep. Thank you for the shopping, darling.’
I paused at the bottom of the staircase. Part of me knew I should go up. But equally, part of me wanted to stay down here, with Zeb, and not have to face my mother’s shrouded form in that hot fusty little room.
‘Leave her to sleep.’ Zeb put his hand on my arm. ‘It will probably be better for her.’
‘You’re an expert in my mum’s illness now, are you?’ His certainty annoyed me. ‘She might need something.’
‘She knows you’re here and she can ask if she does,’ he said, reasonably. ‘Who will it help if you go up?’
Me, I wanted to say. I could see that she was safely tucked up and reassure myself that she was still alive – although her calling out to us had pretty well removed that fear that today would be the day I’d find her cold and still, swathed in duvet and the room already smelling of death.
‘Let’s get this stuff put away.’ He was moving through into the kitchen, opening and closing cupboard doors. ‘Does anyone else live here? It seems a big place for just one person.’
‘No, it’s just Mum.’ When I went through, he had his head in the under-sink cupboard.
‘What on earth are you doing in there?’
‘Nothing.’ His head came out again. ‘Thought I’d find some kitchen spray, that’s all. Sink could do with a clean.’
‘That’s the chef in you coming out.’ I hauled the bag of shopping onto the table. ‘It looks fine to me.’
‘You, Tallie, are hardly fit to talk. Your kitchen looks as though aCountry Livingdesigner had a breakdown.’
‘I’m too busy for housework.’ He was annoying me again. ‘If you are going to be obsessed with cleanliness and tidiness, you really aren’t the right person to be working with animals.’
He grinned broadly at me. ‘I was thinking of a donkey. Kids like donkeys and they are just so daft looking, with those ears. And maybe ducks? We’d need some more land, of course. Hens, to clear land and get rid of slugs and stuff, plus we could sell the eggs.’
