Page 98 of A Colourful Country Escape
‘Oh my God, it’s here!’ said Grace, pointing at her phone. ‘A new blog post published five days ago, entitledAin’t No Sunshine. Squee!’
Lexie buried her face in her hands, dreading the thought of hearing more but resigned to the fact she was just about to. Grace began to read aloud.
Chapter 50
Ain’tNo Sunshine
Blog Post by Ben Carrington
Now and again, someone comes into your life and repaints everything. Four months ago, that happened to me. Her name is Lexie Summers.
Lexie paraded into my colourless life like a one-woman carnival, with her flamingo raincoats and lipstick the colour of the sun. You may know her as the enchanting woman who usually writes this blog. That was before she disappeared.
She burst into my world all those months ago in a crazy camper van, amid a whirlwind of peacocks. Bold, unique and beautiful. Every part of me tried to scowl at this intrusion, and yet my lips must have betrayed my secret smile. Lexie came to take the role of social media manager at Carrington Paints. Before I knew it, she was taking off with my heart.
At first, it seemed there were scarcely two people more opposite. Me, buried in my busy dull life of paperwork and money; Lexie shunning both in favour of gloriously empty pockets and a heart full of fun. But she tested me. She pushed my boundaries. Her spirit and ideas were infectious.
I did my best to resist falling for her. We were meant to be working together, after all. And what would a sunny soul like Lexie want with a sensible sort like me? But that’s the funny thing about opposites. They attract. They complement each other, like yin and yang. I was drawn to her; it was terrifying. Because this crab had become quite accustomed to the safety of his shell. He had not intended to be disturbed by something so trifling as affection.
And then, something went wrong. Lexie and I were due to go on a special date, but I received some news. News that brought everything crashing down. I should have communicated, of course. But I clammed up. Forgot myself. Failed to share what was going on in my head. I didn’t even turn up for our date. And then she disappeared.
You see, communications of the heart are not my strong point. Yes, I can shake hands in business. Make deals; talk shop. But when it comes to my personal life, my thoughts, my hopes, my problems; I shy away from sharing.
Can I tell you why? Although, God, this doesn’t feel easy.
But I’ve never thought of myself as interesting.
I’m good with numbers, paperwork and monotonous things. But what interest would anyone have in Beige Ben? People used to call me boring, and it stuck. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I believed I was dull, and so dull I became. I buried myself in work, closed the doors to friendship and kept love at bay.
Anyway, I can’t tell you what it was I couldn’t share with Lexie on that final night. It’s not my news to tell. But for now, all I know is my insides are dark with sadness.
So here I am, putting my heart on the line. Nailing my colours to the mast like a string full of socks in an orange camper van.
I’m not saying we can fix things – who can ever know? But we have words to exchange. Truths to tell. I don’t want to leave things like this.
Lexie, if you’re reading this, I have so much more to say. Will you let me say it in person?
I will be in our secret garden, on the bench, Saturday 5 September at 2 p.m. and every Saturday after that until you join me. Please be kind.
Yours hopefully,
Ben
Lexie finally peered out from behind her hands at the expectant faces of Sky, Grace and Mrs Moon.
‘The fifth of September is this Saturday,’ said Grace.
‘Or one of the other Saturdays?’ Lexie suggested.
‘No way – you’re going.ThisSaturday,’ said Sky. ‘Do you know where he means?’
Lexie nodded. ‘The secret garden with the wildflowers at Nutgrass Hall.’ She pictured it, complete with kissing seat. Would there be any kissing? What secrets were left to share? She wondered if she would accept them, and what he would say about hers.
‘Ooh, yes, dear,’ said Mrs Moon. ‘Do come. I’ll keep lookout at the gates.’
Lexie recalled the huge wrought-iron gates, frightening peacocks and ever-present danger of a certain Mrs Carrington-Noble. She gulped. This Saturday. Two days’ time. She was due to open the shop on Monday; there was so much to do. But yes. On the long list of priorities, this might be the most important. She just hoped the meeting wouldn’t be fraught with problems that would end up catapulting her backwards.
‘All right. But don’t tell him I’m coming or that I’m here in this shop. I want to be ready,’ said Lexie, steeling herself for the final quest.
