Heart (5 page)

“Hold on. Can I have your number? I’d like to see you again before next week’s lecture. Would that be okay?” My hesitation made Garrett jump to the obvious conclusion. “I’m happy to just be friends, someone to sit with in lectures, grab an occasional coffee with. That type of thing.” And I needed a friend, someone to sit with in lectures, grab an occasional coffee with.

“Umm, okay.” I told him my number and felt my phone vibrate in my bag as he rang to give me his. “I’m off. See you next week.” I didn’t turn back to see if he watched me leave.

I didn’t want to know the answer.

I knew I needed to ring Mum and tell her about Jake before she found out about it via Flynn; she would never forgive me for that. But, as supportive as Mum and Dad could be, I didn’t want to actually put into words what had happened.

Huddled under my duvet, I bit the bullet. Mum answered on the first ring.

“Hang on, love. Simon, turn the TV down. It’s Neve.”

“Hello, darling!” Dad shouted from the background, making me smile as I visualised him, knowing better than to try and take the phone from Mum.

“Your dad says hello. How are you, love?” And that was all it took for the tears to start.

“I’m okay,” I hiccupped.

“Well, that’s obviously not true. What’s the matter?”

“Jake finished with me yesterday.”

“Oh. Why?” There was no evidence of surprise in her voice.

“I don’t know. He said he just couldn’t do it anymore. It didn’t make sense, Mum. I thought things were going great. And he was lovely when he was down here but then, all of a sudden, he said that we’re over.” It
didn’t
make sense, the more I thought about it.

“Well, maybe he had his reasons, love. You’ve always known he had issues beyond your relationship,” she added. I’d never told her the full story about Jake’s family but, as he has been friends with Flynn for years, I suppose she had always known more than we had discussed.

“Yeah, but it was nothing to do with any of that. He just said he ‘wanted out’.” The crying calmed as my brain tried to make sense of his words, but hindsight wasn’t making things any clearer.

“Maybe he realised you were outgrowing him, now that you’re at university, and is doing the honourable thing?” she offered.

“That’s a horrible thing to say,” I said, outrage increasing my volume. “How can you even suggest that I would think like that?”

“I’m not suggesting
you
would, lovely, but he might think it. If he loves you as much as he appears to, maybe he thinks you deserve to be free?” If Jake had thought like that, he would have said it. I knew it. I knew
him
.

“I don’t know, Mum. I just know that I miss him. And I miss you. And Dad. And Cass. I miss being at home.” My voice trailed off into a whine.

“Look, why don’t you come home this weekend? We can drive down and pick you up on Friday night, and drop you back on Sunday. What time do your classes finish on Friday?” She had gone into Mum’s-in-charge mode and secretly I was glad I didn’t appear to have any choice in the matter.

“I have a seminar which finishes at twelve and then I’m done for the day.” Mum checked on Dad’s schedule and announced they would pick me up at three. I hung up, determined to focus on the weekend ahead.

Before I even had a chance to decide what to do with the remainder of my evening, my phone rang again.

“Hi, Cass,” I answered, smiling at the knowledge that she had rung, just as she had promised to.

“So, are you up for going out on Saturday night?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I’m at Flynn’s and your mum has already been on the phone, saying we have to go home for a family weekend. I think she’s included me in that,” she laughed.

“Really? In the time it’s taken me to go to the loo, she’s already got it planned?” I shouldn’t have been surprised really. Mum is the master-planner of all family events.

“Yeah, that’s why I thought you might like some time away from it all. How about me and you go out? Just the cinema or something?” Cass knew exactly what I needed.

“That would be great. Thank you. How’s your day been?”

“All right. A boring lecture and a great seminar. More importantly, how’s yours been?”

“I got through it. I went for a coffee with someone from my Lit lecture,” I offered, determined she would never find out about the bag filled with pebbles.

“Good. What are they like? Am I going to have to fight it out to maintain my number-one-friend status?”

“Umm, no. It was just a guy who needed to borrow some of my notes.”

“That’s what they call it down in Brighton,” she joked, albeit a little warily.

“God, no. Nothing like that.”

“That’s probably wise.” Her voice was quieter. “I know you must be hurting like hell, but don’t give in to the rebound thing, Neve. You’ll end up getting hurt again. Just come home and be with everyone who loves you for a couple of days.”

“Okay, okay. I can’t wait to see you.” I didn’t want to scare her off by admitting quite how much.

“Me, too. Do you want to talk to Flynn?”

“Nah, just say hello. I’ve done enough family tonight, thanks.”

“Okay. Look after yourself. And ring me if you need to. Any time. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, thanks, Cass. I love you.”

“I love you, too. We all do. Sleep well.”

I did. Eventually.

I dust the flecks of soil off the glossy leaves and stand back. Perfect. It will thrive here. Sure, I was only supposed to mow the lawn and do a bit of weeding, but this is my gift to the old woman.

Stretching my back, the tiredness of a full day’s work infuses my muscles. But I’ve got to carry on. I can probably get another couple of jobs done before sunset. Before dark. Before I go home and face the crap which has no doubt taken place today. Before another night spent thinking about how much I miss her.

Myrtle. Even just thinking about her name makes me sigh with the reality of what I’ve done. All I ever wanted was to make her happy; that’s where the nickname started. Neve had got all upset when Cass called her Moaning Myrtle one night we were out. Trying to hide how funny I found her stroppiness, I kissed her and called her Myrtle, before telling her the mythology of the plant and its links to love. And, I’ve got to be honest, I love the fact that my girl has the name of something so beautiful. Like her.

“Do you want another cup of tea, Jake?” My daydream is broken by the old lady’s question. Her voice might quiver with age, but in her smile I can see the young woman her husband must have fallen in love with decades ago. Just as I am about to refuse, I change my mind. Who knows when she will next see someone? Finding solidarity in our loneliness, I answer.

“Go on then, but only if you’ll join me!” The beam on her face tells me I made the right choice.

After washing my hands, I perch on the wrought-iron patio chair which really is too delicate for someone of my size and look at the garden. It is a testament to love. I reckon Mr Jones created it a good forty years ago; it has that old-fashioned, cottage garden feel, all rose bushes and ivy climbing the surrounding walls.

Mrs Jones carefully places the tray on the table before sitting on the adjacent chair. Bless her. Tea served in bone-china cups and saucers. A few biscuits arranged on a matching plate. It is so many miles away from what I’m used to, it’s on another bloody continent.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, it’s a pleasure, Jake. You’ve done a good job today. You always do. Jack would be so grateful, knowing that his garden is still looking nice.”

“You know what, Mrs Jones? I don’t think it was his garden. It was yours. I bet he made this garden for you. He wanted to create something beautiful, just for you. It’s a sign of his love, his passion.” Seeing the glistening in her eyes, I wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing but then she places her wrinkled hand, still wearing its wedding ring, on top of mine.

“That is such a lovely thing to say, Jake. And I think you’re right. He loved this garden and, once we knew there wouldn’t be any kiddies running around in it, he did turn it into something beautiful.” Her eyes take on a faraway look as she faces the garden. “I always loved just sitting here, watching him work. He was such a handsome man. All the girls were envious when he asked me out. He always said that gardening kept him fit. I always said gardening kept him young. I can see him now, in his shirt sleeves, just like it was yesterday.” Her sigh tells of a happy life, now only experienced in her memories.

“Well, thanks for the tea. I’d better be going now.” I pick up the tray and take it into the kitchen.

“You’re such a lovely young man, Jake. Your mum must be so proud of you.” Oh, yeah,
so
proud.

“Thank you.” Well, I can’t exactly tell her the truth, can I? “I don’t think you’ll need me again until spring,” I add, knowing she will be disappointed by that.

“That seems so far away, doesn’t it?” Her face suddenly changes. “What’s that, over there?” Her hand points in the direction of the newly-planted myrtle.

“Oh, I put something in the gap from where that lavender died. I hope you don’t mind. There’s no charge,” I add, even though I know money doesn’t worry her.

“I think I recognise it. Is it…?” Her excited tone surprises me.

“Myrtle. It will give you some evergreen colour over winter and the white flowers are lovely in the summer.”

“Oh,” she sighs. “I thought it was. I had myrtle in my wedding bouquet. Everyone did in those days. I heard Kate Middleton did, as well, so it’s probably all the fashion again.” Tears glaze her eyes and threaten to do the same to me. “Oh, Jake, that’s perfect. Every time I look at it, I will be reminded of my wedding day. Thank you.” Her hand takes mine and squeezes it tight. “I hope you find love like I had with Jack. You deserve it.”

Walking back to the van, arms laden with my tools, I wish life was that simple.

When I arrived for my lecture on Medieval Literature a couple of days later, I saw Garrett was sat in the same place as in Monday’s lecture but, thinking about Cass’s advice, I went and sat a couple of rows away, a part of me hoping he wouldn’t notice me arrive. How wrong I was.

Before I had even taken my coat off, his long legs had straddled the benches between us and he was placing a coffee cup in front of me.

“One skinny mocha, no cocoa symbolism today,” he said, sitting down next to me. “How are you?”

“Fine. Thanks for the coffee.”

“Fine? I know enough about women to know that fine never means fine. What’s up?”

“You mean, other than having Perky join me at this godforsaken hour?” Yes, I know, I can be a bitch sometimes.

“Oh, sorry. Do you want me to leave you alone?” His tone made it difficult to say yes.

“No, stay. I’m just not a morning person,” I added, by way of apology.

“I understand. This nine o’ clock lecture is a killer, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, this is my crap day. I have four classes, right through until six-thirty.”

“Ugh. I hate those days. What do you do in between?”

“Usually the library. I know if I go back to my room, I’ll probably not make it back,” I admitted.