I know what it is. I’m just not ready to face up to it yet.
It takes me until six o’clock. The lunch is over and I’ve cleared the table. Trish’s guests have wandered round the garden and had cups of tea and melted away. As I walk out into the soft, balmy evening, Nathaniel and Trish are standing by the pond, with a plastic tank by Nathaniel’s feet.
His face lights up as he turns and sees me—and something seems to wrench my stomach. There’s no one else whose face lights up like that when they see me. There’s no one else who manages to make me laugh and feel secure and teach me about worlds of which I knew nothing.
“This is a kumonryu,” Nathaniel is saying as he scoops something out of the tank in a big green net. “Want to have a look?” As I get nearer I see an enormous patterned fish flapping noisily in the net. He offers it to Trish and she hops back with a little shriek.
“Get it away! Put it in the pond!”
“It cost you two hundred quid,” says Nathaniel with a shrug. “I thought you might want to say hello.”
“Put them all in.” Trish shudders. “I’ll come and see them when they’re swimming about.”
She turns on her heel and heads back toward the house.
“All right?” Nathaniel looks up at me. “How was the great charity lunch?”
“It was … fine.”
“Did you hear the news?” He scoops another fish into the pond. “Eamonn’s just got engaged! He’s having a party this weekend at the pub.”
“That’s … that’s great.”
My mouth is dry. Come on. Just tell him.
“You know, we should have a koi pond at the nursery,” says Nathaniel, sloshing the rest of the fish into the pond. “Do you know the profit margin on these—”
“Nathaniel, I’m going back.” I close my eyes, trying to ignore the stab of pain inside. “I’m going back to London.”
For a moment he doesn’t move. Then very slowly he turns round, the net still in his hand, his face expressionless.
“Right,” he says.
“I’m going back to my old job as a lawyer.” My voice shakes a little. “Guy from my old firm came down today, and he convinced me—He showed me. He made me realize—” I break off and gesture helplessly.
“Realize what?” Nathaniel says.
He hasn’t smiled. He hasn’t said, “Good idea, that’s just what I was going to suggest.” Why can’t he make this easy for me?
“I can’t be a housekeeper all my life!” I sound more defensive than I’d like. “I’m a trained lawyer! I have a brain!”
“I know you have a brain.” Now he sounds defensive. Oh, God. I’m not managing this well.
“I’ve earned partnership. Full equity partnership at Carter Spink.” I gaze up at him, trying to convey the significance of this. “It’s the most prestigious … lucrative … amazing … I can make enough money in a few years to retire!”
Nathaniel doesn’t seem as impressed as he should. He just looks at me steadily. “At what cost?”
“What do you mean?” I avoid his gaze.
“I mean that when you turned up here, you were a nervous wreck. You were like some freaked-out rabbit. White as a sheet. Stiff as a board. You looked like you hadn’t ever seen the sun, you looked like you hadn’t ever enjoyed yourself—”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. Can’t you see how much you’ve changed? You’re not edgy anymore. You’re not a bundle of nerves.” He picks up my arm and lets it fall down. “That arm would have stayed there!”
“OK … so I’ve relaxed a bit!” I throw up my hands. “I know I’ve changed. I’ve calmed down and I’ve learned to cook and iron and pull pints—and I’ve had a wonderful time. But it’s like a holiday. It can’t last forever!”
“Why not?” His persistence is unnerving me.
“Because!” I say, rattled. “If I stay as a housekeeper I’ll be unfulfilled!”
“Is that what your lawyer friend told you?” There’s a hostile edge to his tone. “That you’ll be more fulfilled working twenty-four hours a day? That they’re only thinking of your own good?”
“No! I mean, it’s obvious. I can’t clean loos forever!”
Nathaniel shakes his head in despair.
“So after all this you’re just going to go back, pick up the reins, and carry on as though nothing happened?”