Page 37 of All Wrapped Up

That evening, with the support of a couple of large glasses of wine, I did a great job of convincing myself that as I now had more friends than I could shake a stick at, the loss of one wasn’t really any loss at all.

However, when I woke late the next morning, thick-headed and unusually roused by an alarm I’d somehow had the foresight to set, I wasn’t quite so convinced.

‘Blimey,’ commented Joanne, when I arrived at the park, feeling unsettled and rushed, to help get everything set up ahead of the bulb planting. ‘What’s happened to you?’

‘Nothing’s happened to me,’ I said tersely, as I shielded my eyes from the glare of the sun and wished I’d taken a couple of painkillers. ‘I’ve just got a bit of a headache, is all.’

‘Where did you find it?’ she smiled. ‘At the bottom of a bottle?’

‘I had two glasses of wine last night,’ I said defensively, even though I wasn’t accountable to her or anyone else for that matter. ‘Just two.’

‘Lightweight.’

‘I think I’m coming down with something,’ I said, which made her laugh far too loudly for my sensitive scalp.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, cutting off her chance to further tease me. It was a text message and not a very long one.

‘No sign of Ash,’ said Joanne, as she looked around while I read the message. ‘I thought he’d be here by now.’

‘He’s not coming,’ I told her as I tucked my phone away again. ‘That was a message from him, saying he can’t make it because Will is off sick and he’s got to cover his on-call shift for him today and already has someone to see.’

Given our strained and somewhat one-sided conversation the day before, and my current fragile state, I felt relieved not to have to see him again so soon and go to the effort of having another potentially stilted exchange. Especially with Joanne in attendance.

‘That’s a shame,’ she sighed, sounding disappointed.

‘It can’t be helped.’ I shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, though I couldn’t then help wondering if Will really was sick, even if the thought did do Ash a disservice. ‘And if there is something going about,’ I further said, before walking off, ‘I really might be coming down with it, mightn’t I?’

Thankfully, given the state of my thumping head, I was in attendance at the bulb planting as a setting up volunteer and participant rather than part of the event management team, and once everyone had been ticked off the registration list and been issued with bulbs and tools (if they didn’t have their own) by Harriet and Rachel and told where and how to plant by the park staff, I headed to my designated space and set to.

It didn’t take me long to make a slit with my sharp trowel, pop a miniature daffodil bulb in and cover it over and, given the tight band still wrapped around my head, the pressure of which increased tenfold every time I bent over, I was relieved about that.

I knew that come the spring this part of the park was going to be a riot of welcome colours and scents, but on a chilly October day, and when I wasn’t feeling at my best, that felt rather a long way off and not all that easy to imagine.

‘Are you done?’ Joanne asked, and I showed her my empty bag and the spot where I’d clustered my bulbs together for maximum impact. ‘Me too.’

‘I wouldn’t have had you down as a gardener, Joanne,’ I commented.

‘I’m not really,’ she said, inspecting her nails, ‘but I thought it would be nice to leave something positive behind when I leave.’

‘That’s really lovely.’ I smiled, feeling surprised that she’d considered that.

Perhaps my thoughts that all might not be well in her world weren’t wide of the mark, after all.

‘A reputation for being a chatterbox isn’t the thing I want to be solely remembered for,’ she then said, making me feel even more convinced that something was amiss.

‘But you have such a talent for it.’ I nudged her, thinking this could potentially turn into the moment to ask her how she was really feeling about her move abroad. ‘And you’ve also had success with your matchmaking which is nice and will be fondly remembered, too.’

‘And I’ll tell you what else is nice,’ she then said, before I had a chance to work my way up to the more sensitive side of things, ‘working in the gallery. I know Lizzie has now asked you to consider working with her once I’ve gone and I really hope you are.’

‘She has,’ I confirmed, ‘and yes, I am.’

Whatever was bothering her, she clearly wasn’t wavering about actually leaving, which was a relief because the evening before, I had fallen to thinking that if I accepted the job and she then stayed, that could be awkward.

I knew Lizzie had said Joanne wouldn’t want the increased responsibility she was offering, but even so…

‘Good,’ Joanne said firmly. ‘I mean it. I know I’m not perfect for the role, but I couldn’t have worked for a lovelier team.

If I were in your position, I wouldn’t think twice about taking it.

Unless you’re thinking about moving on again, in which case you shouldn’t join her, because that wouldn’t be fair to Lizzie. ’

‘I’m not planning on going anywhere,’ I told her.

‘Does that mean that knocking the cottage about has helped rebuild your heart?’

I took a breath, but it didn’t abate the unusual subsequent flash of temper.

‘You just can’t resist the urge to say the wrong thing, can you, Joanne?’ I snapped, feeling cross with her again and just when I had thought how lovely it was that she cared about Lizzie. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my heart but if there was, you’d be the last person I’d tell.’

‘Oh,’ she said, sounding shocked to have been so harshly told off. ‘Right.’

‘I know for a fact that Ash has told you to stop poking your nose into my life,’ I said even more sharply as I screwed the empty brown paper bulb bag up with some force, ‘so if I were you, I’d take his advice to your heart and leave mine alone.’

I didn’t hang around to find out how she was going to react to that.

I very rarely lost my temper, but my head was still thumping and if I was being honest, I was still smarting over Ash’s frosty return.

None of that was Joanne’s fault, of course, but she did have a knack for winding me up and this time, I’d let her know it.

So much for seizing the moment and becoming a shoulder for her to lean on should she need it!

Early the next morning, and with thoughts of Ash’s lukewarm return and the ticking off I’d given Joanne firmly banished, I called Mum and Dad to talk about when would be best for them to visit and with a view to delaying them a little.

I wasn’t exactly regretting my former eagerness to show them what I had set in motion, but with everything other than the festival feeling in a muddle, I wasn’t sure I could cope with them descending and staying with me just yet.

‘But isn’t that when it’s all over and done with?’ Mum frowned, in response to my suggestion that they should come in November.

‘Not at all,’ I said, guessing that she’d been perusing the festival events pages.

‘The weekend I’m suggesting is actually the grand finale and there’s going to be all sorts of celebrations happening in the town along with a party in the pub.

And,’ I added, hoping it would be the clincher to delay them driving down and as a result, give me a little more time to get my ducks back in a row, ‘it will be the best chance I have of introducing you to everyone.’

Assuming I still had friends left to introduce them to by then…

‘But we rather fancied being with you for Halloween,’ Dad chipped in. ‘We could come for an even longer weekend then.’

‘Yes.’ Mum nodded keenly. ‘There looks to be loads organised for that.’

‘But it’s mostly kids’ stuff,’ I explained, which was true. ‘Films in the town hall, followed by a procession around the square. The finale events will be more up your street.’

‘I think Clemmie’s right,’ Dad said to Mum, after having mulled it over. ‘We want to get to know her friends, don’t we? And if the last weekend of the festival will be the best time to do that, then I think we should go then.’

Mum looked at me and smiled. ‘All right,’ she relented. ‘We’ll come then.’

‘In that case—’ I started to say, but then someone knocked on the cottage door and Pixie began to bark. ‘Oh, sorry,’ I apologised. ‘Someone’s at the door.’

‘We’ll talk later in the week,’ Mum said as I blew her a kiss and ended the call.

‘Just a sec!’ I shouted as whoever was visiting knocked again.

In spite of our former awkwardness, I rather hoped it was going to be Ash, but it wasn’t.

‘Can I come in?’ asked the gargantuan floral bouquet I found on the doorstep. ‘This weighs a tonne and my arms are about to give out.’

‘Joanne,’ I said, failing to keep the sigh out of my greeting. ‘Yes, come in.’

‘I hope these are okay?’ she asked, as she transferred the flowers from her arms to mine and I almost buckled under their weight. ‘I hope they’re the sort of thing you like.’

Given that they were an autumnal extravaganza of dahlias, chrysanthemums and grasses in my favourite colour palette, they were perfect.

‘They’re beautiful, thank you,’ I said, staggering to carry them into the kitchen with Pixie trying to jump up to see if there was anything hidden among them for her. ‘But what have I done to warrant them?’

I propped them in the sink and turned around.

‘Put me in my place, of course.’ Joanne blushed. ‘Given me the talking to that my mum then carried on with when I got home and told her why you’d snapped my head off.’

‘I see.’

I rather pitied Joanne’s mum. She must have needed the patience of a saint to cope with a full-on daughter like Joanne.

‘And you did it with good reason, Mum said.’ Joanne grimaced, puffing out her cheeks. ‘And I know she was right. I know you were right, too. I’ve had a think back over all of our conversations and I’m really sorry that every time we’ve talked, I’ve done little other than try to dig into your past.’

‘Well,’ I said, ‘you do sound sorry.’