The port and the shock and the truth of what he’d said made them childish. They bent their heads together and giggled.
‘Heather really has unbuttoned him.’ This observation triggered fresh guffaws. Crying was never far from laughing, Nick thought. And vice versa.
They pressed their foreheads together for a moment. Then Nick took Laura’s hands in his own and held them. ‘He’s probably right, you know, Laur.’
‘He probably bloody is.’
36
The rain started. Anyone studying the sky, or checking their iPhone, would have predicted its coming. The sky darkened suddenly, and a few plump raindrops gave way very quickly to a deluge. Charlie stirred a forbidden spoonful of sugar into his mug of tea and sat by the window, watching rain bounce off the path edging, and pool in the rose petals. He had never minded rain.
‘That was summer, then.’ Heather burst into the kitchen in gym kit, dripping, and wiped her face. Rain came down in heavy sheets, from a now positively leaden sky.
‘My phone says it’s just this morning. A clearing shower. Don’t panic, Mr Mainwaring.’
‘Who is Mr Mainwaring?’
Charlie laughed. He wasn’t sure he could explain Dad’s Army this morning. ‘Long story, don’t worry.’
Heather peered out of the window. ‘Hope you’re right. Scott’s out in this. I do worry about wet roads – he goes so fast on that bike.’
‘Laura too.’
She took a towel and rubbed her wet hair. ‘God. We worry, right?’
‘It’s the price of love. That’s what Daphne always used to say. If you didn’t love, you wouldn’t care so you wouldn’t worry.’
‘But life would be pretty empty and meaningless, right?’
‘Exactly.’
She nodded, thinking. ‘I like that.’ Already the sun was shining again. ‘Wow. That’s bright. There’ll be a rainbow somewhere.’ She went to the front door and opened it. ‘There is! Charlie, come look!’ It was faint, but definite, framing the view. ‘What a metaphor! I gotta get my phone and post this.’
Charlie smiled.
Laura had taken a large mug of coffee and two paracetamol to the garden. Her head was throbbing. She didn’t mind when the rain started. It wasn’t quite the warm rain of the tropics, but it was far from cold, and the drops were refreshing as they hit her face. She tilted it upwards, towards the sky, and let it fall on her.
She hadn’t seen either of her brothers that morning. She wondered if they’d been processing what she’d told them about Ethan’s predicament, whether they’d have any good advice.
Which was fine for a couple of minutes. But as the rain grew steadily heavier and harder, her clothes got wetter, and suddenly she wasn’t refreshed but shivering. She tilted her head down, and wondered whether the greenhouse was locked. It was closer than the house, and quieter. It wasn’t. She pushed open the door and went inside, just as the tempo of the rain went up a gear – ‘stair rods’ was what her parents would have said. The noise of the rain against the glass of the roof was nice. Inside it was warm, having held heat from the previous day, and it smelt musty and earthy – a scent that was unfamiliar but quite comforting. There were wide wooden benches on either side, cluttered with small terracotta and plastic pots, and gardening paraphernalia – balls of twine, secateurs, some seed packets. At the end, there was an old deckchair. Laura shook the sweatshirt she’d had around her shoulders and pulled it on, then curled herself into the deckchair, and listened to the rain’s almost hypnotic rhythm against the panes. She pushed her thumbs into her temples trying to rub away the headache, subsiding now but still keeping time with her pulse.
The door opening brought a blast of cooler air. ‘I seem destined to interrupt you in a reverie.’
Joe had a rain cape on – a vast billowing black affair with a hood.
‘You look like a Weather Superhero.’
He raised his arms in a Popeye stance. ‘At your service.’ He pulled the hood down and ran his fingers through the hair at the front, which was wet.
‘And I seem destined to be in your way. I’m an allotment crasher.’
He smirked. ‘Weather Superhero and the Allotment Crasher. It sounds like a really bad film!’
‘I’ve got a serious complaint to make – this is not the weather we ordered.’
‘I should take it to the management.’
‘I shall be writing a strongly worded letter, be assured. You cannot trap a disparate family group inside a country house for a whole day. God only knows what might happen!’
‘I see.’
‘I’m kidding. I haven’t actually seen anyone yet. Except my dad – just briefly and only to grunt at. I’m hiding out. Again.’ She pointed ruefully at her forehead. ‘Hangover.’
‘Was it worth it?’
‘It was Dad’s eightieth yesterday and we had a family party for him last night.’
‘Ah.’
He had a very earnest way of looking at you. It wasn’t quite a stare, but his gaze was more frank and curious than most people’s. He met your eye. Not everyone did, not all of the time. And his eyes were warmer than most, too. As if he was predisposed to like you. It was disarming. It wasn’t, she realized, how people looked at you in big towns and cities. Things were instantly easier, more comfortable between them than they had been the last time. She wasn’t sure why. But it was nice.
‘I should go.’ He turned and put his hand on the door.
She wanted to stop him. ‘Stay. Distract me.’ God, why had she said that? She felt a blush rise across her cheeks.
‘I’m actually running late.’
‘Oh … yes, sorry.’ She felt foolish.
‘No. No.’ He looked vaguely regretful.
‘Going somewhere inside, I hope?’
He smiled. ‘Yeah. Looks like it’s easing off already, though.’ It was. The quality of the light outside had changed, just in the time they’d both been in the greenhouse. Suddenly a rainbow appeared across the sky.
‘Wow!’
‘Must be a sign.’
‘A sign of what?’
He shrugged. ‘Guess that’s up to us.’
Definitely flirting? Laura didn’t know what to say.
‘I needed to grab this.’ He took a small bag off a shelf. It looked like a toolkit of some kind.
She smiled, in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. Who knew whether she’d pulled it off?
‘I don’t suppose …’ He started a thought, turned towards the door, then back to her. Droplets of water shot off the cape as he whirled indecisively. He seemed to make up his mind at last, and moved away from her. ‘No. No. Don’t worry.’ She wanted to ask him what he was going to say. But he’d opened the door.
‘I hope the day gets better.’
‘For you too.’
And then he was gone, leaving her feeling that it was a shame, that maybe talking to him in a dank greenhouse on a wet morning might have been exactly what she wanted to do. That talking to him, a virtual stranger, seemed easier than talking to almost anyone else right now. And then, almost immediately, that she was a complete idiot.