Page 36 of Once Upon a Thyme
Competently he unpacked the bag, putting potatoes, milk and veg away while I stood with a half-pound of butter in my hand and stared at him. ‘You’ve thought it through? Already? I mean…’
Zeb came across the kitchen, took the butter from my hand and slipped it into the fridge which, as I had known it would be, was almost empty. Mother had probably bought nothing but industrial quantities of coffee and peanut butter which was what she seemed to exist on. ‘Of course. I told you, Tallie, I think working with animals might be the vocation I’ve been looking for. I loved being a chef, but it was too stressful, and I hate the financial advice thing. It was prompted by my dad’s career, he was something in banking, and I thought there may be a genetic component.’
This was the first time Zeb had mentioned anything about family, other than his wife. I didn’t know why he’d chosen now to introduce the topic, other than to distract me from the fact that he seemed very concerned with the contents of my mother’s kitchen cupboards.
‘Where are your parents now?’ There was a lump of very old cheese at the back of the fridge. I threw it away.
‘Oh, Dad died some years back, and Mum lives with my sister in Wrexham.’
That seemed to kill that avenue of conversation. Zeb carried on peering in cupboards. ‘Are you looking for damp, or something? Why are you so worried about the cupboards?’
Almost guiltily he straightened up, catching his head on the underside of the kitchen countertop as he did so. ‘Er, nothing. I’m just curious.’
‘You aren’t going to suddenly drop the idea of working with animals and decide to go into kitchen design and construction, are you?’
Ruefully he rubbed his head and twisted his mouth at me. ‘Sadly for you, no. Look, Tallie, I can do this, I know I can. I can grow the pets’ zone into something we can use to be financially solvent during the times that the garden is at its leanest. We can make use of the facilities that are already there, the parking and the shop, the handwashing station, and expand those toddler and playgroup visits that you have into proper events.’ His eyes were shining now. He looked as though he’d already run the pros and cons in his head and come up with plans. ‘You can leave it to me, you concentrate on the herb garden, growing and selling and all that, and we can run things as almost two separate businesses. Probably beneficial tax wise too.’
I sighed and led the way back into the hall. ‘We’re off now, Mum!’ I called. ‘Sure there’s nothing else you want?’
‘Mmmm? No, darling. I’ll ring you if there is.’
Zeb raised an eyebrow at me.
‘Fine then. Bye.’ I’d never really noticed the relief I felt on leaving Mum’s house before. Maybe it was the way Zeb stared around the overgrown square of the front garden that made me see that I much preferred being outdoors. The hedges that separated the house from its only neighbour were adolescent with leggy growth, pale shoots that had sprouted in the last week or so, and adorned with convolvulus trumpets and thistle flowers. ‘I ought to come over and do some work,’ I said, hands on hips. ‘It’s getting out of control.’
‘Your mum can’t garden? Or employ a gardener?’ Zeb pulled at a dandelion which was forcing its way up between the paving bricks, a touch of bright gold optimism among the damp weeds.
‘She does garden.’ I felt ridiculously defensive. ‘When she’s well. Plus, you know, it’s my job and everything.’
‘It’s not your job to care for your mother though, is it? I mean, if she could get to the bottom of her illness then maybe she could get help? As it is, she seems to rely on you and not be too bothered about how her illness impacts on your life.’
His implied criticism made me want to snap a reply; something about how I owed my mother so much for bringing me up and keeping me safe. How it was my business if I paid her back by doing her shopping and dropping in to help her now and again. But I didn’t because, and I hated to admit it, he had a point.
We got back into my car and I stared once more at the impassive front of the house. I was almost sure that I saw a flicker of movement at the top front window; maybe my mother was watching me go? My heart gave a little jump and squeeze in my chest at the thought of the lonely woman watching her daughter leave, maybe wanting to call me back but not wanting to keep me from the things I needed to do. I would come back tonight and be company for a while, I decided. Who cared if it was just watching TV and eating sandwiches, after a day confined to bed she’d be glad to have someone to chat to.
‘She’s tried to get a diagnosis.’ I started the engine, keeping my eyes on that window, now just reflecting the light from the beck in its inscrutably dark squares. There was no more movement. Perhaps I’d imagined it. ‘The doctors just keep fobbing her off.’
‘Maybe if you went with her? And you could tell them how much it’s impacting on her daily life, being unable to do anything for herself?’
There was a tone in Zeb’s voice that I didn’t understand, something sharp, almost accusatory, that made me rush to answer.
‘I have offered. Granny used to offer too, she always said it was disgusting that they couldn’t sort it out. But then Granny was big on the herbal medicine, and she used to give Mum draughts of various tonics and cordials that she’d made up. None of those ever did any good either. I think she lost patience after a while.’
‘Perhaps it’s ME or fibromyalgia – one of those illnesses that it’s very hard to diagnose and the doctors can’t really treat it.’ Again, there was that note in Zeb’s voice. Not blame, it was milder than that, but almost the tiniest bit of censure as if Mum just wasn’ttryingfor a diagnosis. ‘But I am curious as to how she’s managing to pay the bills.’
‘None of your business,’ I replied, chippily. ‘Or mine either. We’d better get back and oversee the band, in case they suddenly decide to start climbing trees or doing something else that might end in an actionable case of damages.’
‘Plus, of course, the delicious Mika is there to be flirted with.’
‘Shut up.’
But as we drove away down those lace-edged lanes, I couldn’t stop wondering why Zeb was so concerned about my mother and her illness.
12
As soon as we arrived back at the gardens, Mika came over, opening the car door to help me out and putting a hand under my elbow as though I were a hundred.
‘Ah, Tallie, there you are. We were beginning to worry that you’d run for the hills or something.’
