‘Okay,’ Rhys said, as though he wasn’t talking to someone who was making absolutely no sense. He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it to pull his mobile from his pocket.
‘How can I help? What are we searching for?’
When stripped down like that, I realised how little I knew about Henry or how to find him. I blew out a long breath. ‘Well, I know that his name is Henry, although I don’t know his surname.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I know he’s a retired mathematics teacher; that he used to live in a bungalow before moving to the retirement place – which he doesn’t particularly like. I know he loves gardening and that his wife’s name was Bee and that she was the love of his life.’
‘That’s all we have to go on?’
Rhys would never know how much that ‘we’ meant to me.
‘’Fraid so. I don’t even know when Bee passed away, although I’ve always felt it must be quite recent because he still looks and sounds so sad when he talks about losing her.’
‘I don’t think we can use that as evidence,’ Rhys said, running one finger gently down my cheek. ‘I don’t think I would ever get over losing you.’
For a moment all thoughts of trying to find Henry were set aside as I lost myself in his eyes. We’d grown so much closer over the last few weeks, but we kept dancing around the L word. Noone had said it, but there had been times, like now, when it seemed close enough to touch.
Just remember, L is for lightning as well as love, Old Ellie materialised long enough to point out. I did my best to ignore her.
‘That’s a lovely thing to say,’ I whispered.
‘It’s true,’ Rhys said, his eyes turning momentarily sad for something that hadn’t even happened. ‘Some things are too painful to even think about,’ he said softly.
‘Well, I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.’
‘Ditto,’ he said before pulling me in for a kiss, a longer one this time. It was the kind that could easily have spilled over into something more, and I could already feel a very familiar stirring deep inside me. Ironically, it was Rhys who pulled away first.
‘Enough of this. We have some cyberstalking to do.’
We split our searches, with me taking the retirement homes and Rhys looking into the gardening and horticultural connection. It took over an hour of scrolling and I think I fell a little bit more in love with Rhys with every passing minute as he trawled through his phone, never once complaining or moaning about searching for someone who probably didn’t need to be found anyway.
In the end we located him almost simultaneously.
‘I think this might be him,’ declared Rhys at almost the same moment as I cried out ‘Got him!’
We swapped devices. On Rhys’s was an archived article from a local paper about an amateur gardening competition, where first prize had gone to someone called Henry Thatcher, who’d won with his hybrid rose called Bee’s Delight.
‘I mean, it could be the kind of bee that found its way inside your bra,’ Rhys said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘But equally, it could be his wife’s name. What did you find?’
I’d also found a local newspaper article, but mine concerned the expansion of an exclusive retirement village. Accompanyingthe article was a grainy photograph showing a ribbon strung across an archway, about to be cut by an official wielding an impossibly large pair of scissors. Behind the satin barrier were a handful of the new wing’s occupants, and among them, standing a little to one side and alone, was a familiar silver-haired figure with a smile on his face that looked like it was only going to be there until the camera had flashed.
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Friend or family?’ asked the woman behind the reception desk.
For a bizarre moment it reminded me of being asked if you were ‘bride or groom?’ at a wedding. For an even more bizarre moment I considered lying and saying I was family, in case that made it easier to get in.
To say Freeman Manor was exclusive would be an understatement. The grounds alone explained why Henry chose this as his new home. They were truly spectacular. It was a gardener’s paradise. I’d taken a shortcut across the lawn from the car park, panicking halfway across in case I was breaking the rules. It looked like that kind of place. Beneath my feet the grass had been deep and springy, as though below the turf someone had planted a layer of memory foam. I found myself tottering as I walked on the balls of my feet, fearful that my kitten heels would damage Freeman Manor’s immaculate lawns and I’d be evicted before I’d even made it to the reception.
‘Friend,’ I said decisively.
I knew from the home’s website that visitors were welcome at any time, but I still felt like an imposter as the woman reached for a sign-in book and visitor’s pass.
‘Would someone be able to direct me to Henry’s apartment? I’ve not been here before.’
‘I know. I’ve an excellent memory for faces... although there is something very familiar about yours.’ She lifted a single eyebrow curiously. It was an impressive facial manoeuvre that looked like it must have taken a great deal of practice to perfect. I was a little envious of it, to be honest.