Page 88 of Plight
Both our mum’s gasped and covered their mouths with their hands, Helen’s eyes shooting to Elliot’s and filling with tears.
“It’s not really working out for the two of us. We both want different things. We—”
“But you can work through your differences together. That’s what commitment is all about—”
“Don’t, Mum,” Elliot interrupted, his expression as cold and disappointed as his tone. “Let her finish.”
“We’re both just better suited as friends.”
Mum was quiet, but I could see her mind screaming all kinds of unanswered questions.
“We don’t want to discuss it any further. Our minds are made up. Plus, we have a garden to finish, so that’s what we’re going to do. Isn’t that right, Lots?”
“Sure is.”
Helen burst into tears and headed back into the garden shed, Mum following suit. It broke my heart and my tear bank. “I knew this would happen,” I sniffed.
“Yeah, you did, which makes me wonder.”
I wanted to ask him what that was supposed to mean, but I didn’t. I wasn’t there to fight. I didn’t have the strength. All I wanted was to get the garden finished. And thank God, that wasn’t far from happening.
Without so much as another look my way, he lugged some bags past me and disappeared into the glasshouse, and I set myself to work on sowing some seeds.
Elliot and I barely spokefor the weeks that followed and it gutted me, but what gutted me more was how absolutely awful he looked. Gaunt. Lifeless. The sparkling blue from his elfish eyes dim and murky grey. I hadn’t seen him this distraught since his father died, and my memory of that was vague considering we’d both been five years old. Regardless, you never forgot how a person looked when their will to live had been severely damaged. It didn’t matter how old you were.
“Mum, this potato salad is delicious!” I said, spooning another mouthful in. “You should make it for the garden unveil on Saturday.”
“Funny you should say that because I am. You were my guinea pig.” She slopped some onto her plate. “Pass me the corn?”
I laughed, shook my head and passed the dish of corn across the dinner table to her. “I’m so proud of you, you know.”
“Me? Why’s that?”
“Because you’ve once again, with Helen’s help of course, created something incredible enough to honour Mr Hillier’s memory.”
“We didn’t do it alone, dear. If it hadn’t been for the contractors, and you and Elliot, and Elliot’s funding and legal know how, the garden would most certainly have been demolished.”
Reaching for my glass of wine, I paused. “Elliot’s funding?”
“Why yes. He paid for the entire project.”
“What?” I nearly choked.
“Danielle,” she said, her tone a little disappointed. “Where did you think the money came from?”
“I … I don’t know. I didn’t really think that much about it. I guess I just assumed the council funded it.”
“The council wouldn’t fund a fundraiser let alone fund a garden to honour a local hero.”
I fell silent, contemplating what she’d just said as I pushed a piece of sausage around on my plate.
“Have you spoken to him?”
I glanced up. “Elliot? No.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t want to speak to me.”
