Page 76 of The Art of Loving You

‘Yeah. Cheers.’

‘If you want to change your top before you leave I’ll try and get that stain out?’ I said to Liam and after he’d left I held Jack’s T-shirt against my heart and hurried towards the sink.

Later, the Levi’s T-shirt hung on the washing line. I’d scrubbed it until my knuckles were raw and red and finally the ketchup had shifted.

I pottered around the garden before dusk whisked away the remaining light. At the bottom of the plot, right where Sid said it would be, I uncovered a rusty bench. From the shed I fetched the shears and secateurs which were stiff through lack of use, and using force I carefully cut away the bush that had engulfed the seat before I scrubbed it with hot water and soap. It was still ginger with rust but at least it was clean. That night I carried out a cushion and a glass of wine and I sat in the same place Sid had told me he had sat with Norma at the end of a summer’s day. Landscapes had changed enormously in the majority of towns through the passage of time but here the sheep remained the constant. The sky turned from pink to lavender to grey as my thoughts floated towards Jack. About the future we thought we might have and the future I could have. The possibilities that this project might bring.

Deep in thought I barely noticed the sense of someone sitting beside me until I drained my glass.

‘Jack?’

I looked intently into the space beside me where he should be. Held my breath.

The wind in my hair, the soft bleat of sheep.

He was all around me and yet he was nowhere.

The next few weeks rolled by. My emotions were fierce and frenzied; despair I was doing this without Jack, bursts of joy as his plans took shape. Fatigue gripped me – a tiredness that seemed to bury itself deep into my bones but a desire to keep going, to keep building on the progress we’d made.

Pride.

I felt closer to Jack than ever, his sweet words of encouragement streaming into my ears while I slept. When I woke I’d catch glimpses of light in darkened corners.

Each night I pulled on one of his T-shirts and sprayed his aftershave onto his pillow.

Come to me in my dreams, I urged, desperate for another of the extraordinary experiences I had become an expert on. I was certain that if he was filling my mind when I went to sleep then he would surely fill my dreams.

But you know what they say.

Be careful what you wish for.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The August heat was sweltering.

It was nine weeks since we’d started and I was already in the garden when Liam arrived, carefully carrying a plant in his hands.

‘This is for you, Libby.’

‘We’re supposed to be giving you presents today. Happy birthday, Liam.’ I smiled. ‘Seventeen!’

He blushed as he thrust the pot towards me.

‘It’s beautiful.’ I crouched to sniff the red roses with the white centre.

‘It’s from me and Noah,’ Liam said, self-consciously. ‘It’s called “Little Artist”.’

I swept him into a hug. ‘It’s perfect, thank you.’

He wriggled from my grasp. ‘It isn’t just from me.’

‘I shall make sure I thank Noah. It’s great how close you’ve become.’ Since that awful, awkward first day they’d formed a strong bond, almost brotherly.

‘Yeah well.’ In a rare open moment he said, ‘You know, I thought after me dad running off and meeting Mum’s boyfriends that most men were, you know, wankers but Noah, he’s all right. Not as nice as Jack of course. Nor Sid, but you know?’

‘He’s not a wanker.’

‘No.’ Liam grinned. ‘I can plant the rose under the kitchen window then you’ll see it every day.’

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