Page 33 of We All Live Here
She feels a sudden flood of love for Bill, for his unassuming affection. “I’m lucky to have him,” she says, when she can’t think of anything else.
He hands her his empty mug. “Yup. I’m still going to steal your car, though.”
She laughs. She has turned to walk back across the garden when he calls: “Hey, the thing I wanted to tell you—the shed…”
She feels it then, the sudden clench, the sense that she is never allowed just to have a few hours of uncomplicated joy. And it is out of her mouth before she even thinks about it.
“No,” she says.
“No?”
She stops briefly and turns. “I don’t want to talk about the shed. I don’t want to do anything about the shed. It can wait.” It comes out a little more sternly than she’d planned, but she feels it viscerally. She doesn’t want to hear what else she’s going to be on the hook for. She wants one smooth day. Is that really too much to ask? “Look, I get that this is your job. It’s a project for you. And there are probably things you think I should be spending to make all this better or more functional or more beautiful, but I can’t do it right now. Okay? I’m not even sure I can be doing this. I don’t have the bandwidth and I certainly don’t have the money.”
“I wasn’t—” he begins, but she cuts him off.
“The bloody shed has stood here for twenty odd years, by the look of it. Whatever is wrong with it can just…wait.”
This time the warmth has gone from his expression. He lets his gaze rest on her face for a minute, studying her, and then he compresses hismouth, lifts his eyebrows, nods to himself, and walks back to his barrow, brushing his hands together as he goes.
“I’ve got to go and pick up Violet,” she says, feeling somehow awkward. And then hating herself for it. It’s her house. She is allowed to place boundaries around what she’s willing to do.
“Thanks for the tea,” he says, raising a hand. He does not look back.
•••
It is, of course,a complete coincidence that Lila goes to pick up Violet wearing a full face of makeup, with blow-dried hair that has not yet been pulled into an old scrunchie. And maybe kept on the outfit she wore to visit Anoushka’s offices rather than her usual jeans or tracksuit bottoms (the writer’s uniform, as Dan used to call it). And it is also possibly not a coincidence that when she walks in and bears left toward the play equipment where Gabriel Mallory is standing alone, rather than right toward the school building where the other mothers congregate, he lifts his eyebrows slightly and says: “You look very nice.”
“Do I?” she says, sounding surprised. She has forgotten the awkward exchange in her garden. Gabriel Mallory is wearing a soft blue shirt and expensive trainers, an eco brand she’s read about in a magazine. He has neat wire-rimmed glasses, the kind she suspects makes a face look even more handsome, and architect-like.
“Oh, yes,” she says blithely. “I had a meeting in town this morning. Couldn’t be bothered to get changed afterward.”
“You should have meetings every day,” he says. “It suits you.Luminosa.” And then holds out a bag. “Oh, yes. For you.”
She looks down. It is a paper bag from Annika’s. The weight suggests two cinnamon buns.
“Well,” he says, with a lopsided smile, “for you and your daughter. Sorry, I’ve forgotten her name.”
“Violet,” she says, trying not to flush with pleasure.
“It was really kind. It gave Lennie a boost.”
“Lennie?”
“Well, she’s Elena. But she wants to be a boy at the moment so she demands to be known as Lennie.”
“I’ll make sure I remember.” She fiddles with the paper bag, trying not to look at him. There is something about this man that is physically overwhelming, as if her whole body wants to propel itself against him, crush her mouth against his soft shirt. It is a very unsettling sensation. “How is she doing?” she says, trying to disguise this inner turbulence.
He tilts his head slightly, looks over at the door to the school. “She’s…okay. She misses her mum.”
Lila opens her mouth to ask, but he gives her an awkward sideways glance and says: “She—she’s not with us any more.”
“You mean…”
He nods, and Lila feels briefly winded. “Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “Well, it’s not. It’s been pretty awful. But…it is what it is.”
“If it makes you feel any better, my soon to be ex-husband’s new girlfriend is over there. Pregnant with his baby.”
