Tasha, with the determination of a pint-sized politician, had successfully managed to steer the conversation back to cats onceagain. And somehow, before my dessert was gone, I found myself agreeing to only get a cat from a shelter, and if I needed help selecting one, she would happily accompany me.
Rhys waited until she had jumped down from her stool to visit the Ladies’ before saying quietly, ‘She likes you.’
His words ignited a warm glow inside me.
‘It’s one hundred per cent mutual. She’s a lovely little girl.’ I gave a small laugh. ‘And very persuasive.’
He smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think anything you’ve agreed to is legally binding. You don’t have to get a cat.’
I gave a small shrug. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I will. It’d be nice not to come home to an empty house all the time.’
I saw a dark cloud scud across his features and could have bitten my tongue for being so insensitive. My home was empty out of choice. His was empty because his partner had left him for another man. It was a fact I still found as astonishing as I had when he’d revealed it on the night of the last storm.
Fortunately, at that moment Tasha reappeared, changing the expression on her father’s face in a heartbeat. The truth was glaringly obvious: Rhys wanted nothing more than to be able to see his daughter on a daily basis again. And I’d be willing to bet that was exactly what Tasha wanted too. The sweet taste of ice cream suddenly turned sour in my mouth. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be allowing myself to become a potential obstacle, getting in the way of this family reuniting. I should step away; that’s the advice I’d give anyone in this situation. What I needed was some straight-talking guidance, and I knew exactly who I should ask. The only problem was she wasn’t answering my calls.
Chapter Thirteen
The fact it took me four attempts to parallel park in her street indicated just how nervous I was because I was usually pretty good at parking in tight spaces. I could feel a vague tremor in my fingers as I switched off the engine. The spot I’d found was only a short distance down the road from the three-bedroom semi that Mel and Steve called home.
Her car was in the driveway, and I gave a sigh of relief as I climbed out of my own and reached for the items on the back seat. I’d taken a chance that Mel’s work schedule was the same and that she still worked from home on Fridays. I’d taken an even greater chance that she’d be willing to see me.
I’d decided to leave it four weeks before contacting Mel again – I’d lasted just over three. Maybe I’d caught her when she was still jet-lagged from her return from New York. Or maybe she was simply a much nicer person than me – which was probably closer to the truth. For whatever reason, when I’d messaged to say I’d really like to see her again, she hadn’t told me no. Admittedly, she hadn’t said yes either. But that was how I chose to interpret her somewhat lukewarm reply of ‘Sometime soon, perhaps.’
What was the worst she could do, I wondered, as I adjusted the cumbersome object in my arms to get a better hold? Slam the door in your face? Throw a bucket of water on you from an upstairswindow? Simply not answer the door? There were no end of possibilities, none of which I liked. This was Mel, for God’s sake. She was my person, and I was hers. Or at least I used to be.
The container I was carrying was heavy and digging painfully into the flesh of my forearms. Perhaps I should have gone with a bouquet of flowers after all. There’d certainly been plenty to choose from in the florists that morning.
‘Hi, Ellie,’ Beth, the shop’s owner, had said with a welcoming smile. ‘Another client arrangement?’ Her pen had been poised, waiting for the details and a delivery address.
‘Actually, I’m looking for something different today. Something that says I’m sorry.’ That was when I’d spotted the ceramic pot standing in the corner of Crazy Daisy.
‘What kind of plant is that?’ I’d asked, already sure I knew the answer.
‘It’s an olive tree.’
I’d smiled and reached for my purse.
‘Perfect. I’ll take it. Can you tie a fancy ribbon around it?’
Repositioning the tree in my arms as I walked towards my friend’s front door, I wasn’t holding out an olive branch... I was extending the whole damn tree. I just hoped it was enough for Mel to forgive me for being a truly awful and neglectful friend.
I rang the doorbell and resisted the impulse to duck back out of range of the wall-mounted camera so she couldn’t see who was there. She took a worryingly long time answering. Long enough for me to wonder if I should have tied a white flag to the olive tree instead of a big old red ribbon.
I’d been straining my ears for the sound of footsteps on the wooden boards of her hallway, but Mel was barefoot when she answered the door, catching me by surprise when it suddenly swung open.
The first emotion that hit me was a wave of love for my old friend. How could I not have realised how much I’d missed her until that very second when she was standing there in front of me? The second emotion came fast on the heels of the first: shock. She looked different. Mel had always had the kind of curves that filled a pair of skinny jeans far better than mine ever did and boobs that made me feel like I’d only just graduated from a training bra. But today she looked so much thinner, and not in the way you did after a healthier eating regime. She looked gaunt and tired. It’s probably just jet lag, I told myself, even though I was already afraid it was something way worse than the results of an exhausting trip.
Her hair had escaped from its usual crocodile clip restraint and the wild curls were taking advantage of the freedom by swamping her face. They made her cheekbones look even more prominent and her eyes appear enormous. Although, to be fair, finding me on her doorstep for the first time in goodness-only-knows-how-long might have been another reason for that.
‘Ellie,’ she said. Despite straining my ears for a clue, I couldn’t decipher how she felt about this ambush from the way she said my name.
‘Hello, Mel,’ I said. Feeling suddenly shy in front of the person who knows you better than anyone else in the world is both a lonely and a terrifying experience.
Guilt pierced me like a poisoned dart. I had squandered something precious. What right did I have to think some stupid olive tree gift was all it would take to make things right again?
‘I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced like this,’ I began, intending to tag on the lie but I was in the area. So, I was almost as surprised as I imagine she was when my voice cracked. ‘... but I was so scared to call first in case you wouldn’t agree to see me.’
I followed her down the hallway and into her bright, friendly, chaotic kitchen that was bathed in late-morning sunlight. I’d clearlyinterrupted her workday, for her laptop was open on the kitchen table and was surrounded by a sea of paperwork and pamphlets. Mel worked for a charity who redistributed unused food from supermarkets to shelters and the homeless. Even the career she’d chosen illustrated exactly why everyone who met Mel immediately fell in love with her. She was a good person, who worked hard to make life better for people in need. What did my choice of job, with its veneer of perfectly staged homes and aspirational lifestyles, say about me?