it easy for him to get in touch with her. Perhaps, as Joel had suggested, Richard had been trying to.
But then again, if he’d been trying to find her surely Richard would have got in touch with her via Flick? She didn’t hold out much hope for him finding her through Facebook, as Richard didn’t even have an account. While he embraced modern technology for business, he was less keen on social networking in his personal life, claiming he’d rather speak to people face to face than online.
After some internal debate, she decided that rather than ringing him up again – she wasn’t yet ready for the humiliation of having him slam the phone down on her, or hearing that other woman on the phone again – her best bet would be to use the excuse of the Summer Fest as a reason for getting in touch, and to do it by email.
After much deliberation Kezzie sat down at Jo’s rickety desk with a glass of wine to write an email to Richard.
To: Richard.Lacey@L&GGardendesigns.com
From: [email protected]
Dear Richard, she wrote. And then got stuck. What to say next? I hope you’re missing me as madly as I’m missing you?
I know you said you never wanted to hear from me again last time we spoke but I thought I’d email anyway?
I think we’ve made a huge mistake?
No, she couldn’t say any of that. It was way too personal.
She started again.
To Richard? Too formal.
Hi, Richard? Too friendly.
In the end she went with,
Richard,
Kezzie here. Just wanting to pick your brains about a community gardening project I’m working on. We’re planning to overhaul a local park, and we need to raise a considerable sum of money. I know it’s cheeky of me after all this time, but I was wondering if you could think of anyone I could contact who might be able to offer their services.
Hope you’re keeping well,
Kezzie
She felt like she had been reasonably casual, and not too intense, while managing to maintain a friendly air. She read the email over several times, and took a great big gulp of wine.
‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained,’ she said, her finger hovering over the keyboard for a minute, before she decided she may as well just go for it, and pressed send. The minute the email had gone she regretted it, but it was too late now. Oh well. She’d have to deal with the fallout tomorrow. As she went to turn the computer off, an email pinged straight back into her inbox. Kezzie swallowed hard. She’d assumed Richard would have gone home for the evening, and hadn’t imagined he’d still be sitting at his desk. It was tantalizing to think of them connected by their computer screens. So close, and yet so far away.
From: Richard. Lacey@L&GGardendesigns.com
Kezzie,
If you want help with your gardening project your best bet is to contact the RoseThyme Agency who have a lot of gardening celebs on their books.
I recall from our last conversation I said I didn’t want to see you any more. That hasn’t changed. I think it advisable for you not to contact me again.
Richard
Kezzie felt as if a cold bucket of water had been thrown over her head. Seeing the words there so starkly in front of her was even more hurtful than it had been all those months ago. She let out a howl of anguish. Part of her wanted to launch a tirade at him, telling him how wrong he was, begging him to forgive her, but she was too proud. All that would do would make him hate her even more. Instead, she responded with a curt, I only contacted you for the information you gave me. Thanks for that. You won’t hear from me again. And then she deleted her hotmail account. It was one she didn’t use very often, but she couldn’t bear the thought of any more correspondence like that from Richard. Better if he didn’t know how to contact her. And now she’d opened the correspondence, better if she wasn’t tempted to contact him again.
Kezzie switched off the computer and stared out into the gathering gloom. Finally she had to face it, after all these months of pretending. It really was over. Richard was never going to take her back.
Lauren was having the opposite problem. After years of thinking Troy didn’t want her, she was being faced with the prospect that now, all of a sudden he actually genuinely did.
Lauren had been stunned by Troy’s revelation that he was missing her. It was what she’d wanted to hear for a long time. And yet now he’d finally recognized the error of his ways, she wasn’t convinced she wanted him to. She’d got used to it being just her and the girls. They’d been doing fine till Troy came along. And if she wanted a man in her life, she wasn’t sure it would be Troy she was after.
A picture of Joel swam unbidden in front of her eyes. Now that was ridiculous. He was good looking, it was true; you’d have to be a blind, hormonally challenged hermit not to notice that. But there was so much emotional confusion tied up in Lauren’s feelings for Joel. First, as Claire’s friend, she felt guilty for even thinking Joel attractive. She hadn’t paid any attention to Joel’s good looks when Claire was alive, but increasingly of late, Lauren had been aware that he was very, very, attractive. But she couldn’t possibly think about it because Claire had been her friend. Besides, Claire had painted a very warts and all picture of her husband, so Lauren was fully aware of all Joel’s faults. Claire had been running round like a headless chicken while Joel had ostensibly been doing up the house, but as far as Lauren could see, it was just an excuse not to be there at bath time. Joel probably wasn’t much of a better bet than Troy. Having a man in the house wasn’t a guarantee of support.
Lauren made her way reluctantly to the pub, knowing that tonight she was sharing another shift with Troy. Despite her anxiety, the sight of a new family of ducklings frantically swimming after their proud mother made her smile. Spring was definitely in the air.
Lauren sighed, enviously looking at the few stalwart smokers who were sitting under the patio heaters on the benches outside the pub. She would much, much, rather be drinking with them, but Sally had called and wheedled her into coming in this evening. ‘I know it’s short notice,’ Sally had said, ‘but I really can’t get anyone else tonight, and you’re always so reliable.’ For which read, I know you need the money. Which was true. Lauren always needed the money, and never felt she could turn an offer of work down. Mum couldn’t babysit, so Kezzie had stepped in, and now Lauren was hotfooting it – late – to the pub.
‘You’re late,’ Sally was on her case the minute she walked in the pub. Who was helping who out of a jam here?
‘Sorry,’ said Lauren, ‘you didn’t exactly give me much notice.’
Sally looked as though she was about to launch into a tirade, but Troy appeared like magic from his side of the bar, and said, ‘Oh, come on, Sal, you know that’s not fair, at least Loz has turned up.’
Loz. She liked the way he called her that. No one else ever did.
Sal was immediately flattered by Troy’s attention; you could almost hear her purr, and within seconds she’d forgotten that she wanted to bawl Lauren out,
