Page 91 of Mercury Rising
“Two and a half weeks?”
“That’s right.”
She took his hands and turned them over. “I’d hold off on the manicures for now.”
He snatched his hands back. “They’re not manicured. You’re going to eat those words.”
The next few hours were spent transferring who knew how many plants from little pots to big pots. Then taking little bits of big plants and putting them in tiny pots. Mercury had had no idea how much work was involved.
I must thank Mrs Wimpole for the work she does on the gardens. Why the fuck would anyone choose to do this?
He stood up. A pain shot up his side.
“Ouch!”
Over the course of the day, volunteers had drifted in. A lady called Vi had taken to him.
“That’s a muscle, my love,” she said.
A few of the others sniggered.
“Already?” Mercury replied. “When I think of the money I’ve spent on personal trainers. One day down here and I could pass for The Rock.”
They all hooted with laughter.
He smiled back. It was a relief that he was making a good impression. Yet everything was tinged with dark. Each story he overheard he wanted to tell Nick about. When he planted aseedling properly, he wanted to send him a photo. Every minute he yearned for him.
“Lunch break, Mercury,” Terri called from the polytunnel.
He wandered up. “What about the others?”
“They’re volunteers,” Terri explained. “It’s only you and me on the clock, my love. Come on.”
She led him through to the seating area where he’d left his bag. He’d opted for a supermarket meal deal for lunch. He thought coming in with a doggy bag from The Nickleby Hotel might be a bit showy.
“Brew?” Terri asked.
“I’d love a coffee. Black, please.”
She disappeared to the back. Mercury pulled his phone out of his pocket and settled back in the surprisingly comfortable armchair.
He had been wrestling with whether he should be the first one to break and just message Nick. He couldn’t fight it any longer.
Opening a picture of some of his gardening handiwork, he sent it with the caption “Learning new skills.”
It was a crap message but he didn’t dare use any humour.
Almost instantly, it was read. Mercury held his breath to see if Nick was typing.
He wasn’t.
A minute passed and nothing.
“Here you go,” Terri said, plonking a mug of coffee down on an upturned seed tray.
“Oh, thanks.”
Mercury rested the phone on the arm. He glanced. No message icon.
