Page 50 of The Last Casterglass

Although it was nearing the end of January, the day was fresh, the sky clear, with the tiniest hint of spring in the air. The walled garden’s bushes were bare and neatly tended, but gorgeous clusters of snowdrops, like tiny white bells, were scattered across the emerald-green grass.

After wandering the twisting brick paths for a few minutes, Oliver finally found Seph sitting on a wrought-iron bench near an old summerhouse, her face tilted to the sun. She opened her eyes as he came closer, smiling at him in easy affection.

“I was just enjoying the peace and quiet.”

“Sorry, am I disturbing it?” he asked with a wry smile.

“You know you’re not.” She scooted over on the bench, to make room for him. “Were you looking for me?”

“Yes.” He tried not to gulp in his nervousness, and Seph gave him a curious look.

“That sounds awfully serious.”

“Not serious,per se.” She patted the bench and he sat down next to her. “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Oh?” Her tone managed to be both guarded and hopeful, and he wondered what she was thinking he’d ask. “My uncle would like me to come back to Pembury Farm for a visit next weekend. He said we needed to talk.”

“You think he’s going to tell you he’s selling it?”

“I’m pretty sure he is.” Oliver suppressed the inevitable sigh this thought caused him. “But what I wanted to ask you was, would you go with me? To Pembury, for the weekend? I know it’ll be gone soon but I’d love for you to see it.” To fall in love with it, the way he had, even if it couldn’t be his.Theirs.“And meet my uncle, too,” he added, an abashed afterthought, because perhaps he should have thought of her meeting him before seeing the house, but it was definitely the house that felt the most important. The house it seemed he couldn’t have.

It took Oliver a few seconds to realise Seph hadn’t replied. She was looking at him with a mixture of apology and dismay, and his stomach cramped because her expression definitely did not bode anything good.

“I mean, obviously only if you want to,” he said, forcing the words out. A few months ago, he might have tripped over himself to make excuses and apologies, but now he found he couldn’t stomach it. He couldn’t hide his hurt. “But if you don’t, then…” The usual words,that’s fine, simply wouldn’t come. “Then you don’t,” he finished flatly.

“Oh, Oliver…”

She sounded so sorry, that he couldn’t stand it. He rose from the bench, so his back was to her as he raked a hand through his hair. “I knew it was a big ask,” he managed. Even if he’d been ready for it. “If you don’t feel we’re at that stage…” He didn’t know how to finish that thought in a way he could bear.

“It’s not that,” she said quickly. “Oliver, please! Look at me. You’re jumping to all sorts of conclusions, thinking I don’t want to go with you—”

He made himself turn around and look at her. “Do you?”

“Yes!” She bit her lip. “And no. Of course, I want to see a place that’s important to you. You’ve told me so much about Pembury Farm. But…I’m not good in social situations. I’m not…” she shrugged helplessly “…normal.”

He couldn’t help but feel a bit exasperated at what sounded like an excuse. “Seph, you are definitely within the realm of normal, whatever that even means.”

“But I’m not! I can’t do chitchat. Social niceties escape me. I’m trying, but with strangers… I don’t know.” She looked up at him, her blue-green eyes pleading with him to understand. “I’m scared,” she said quietly.

Oliver stared at her, her wide eyes, her nibbled lip, and realised she was serious. For a few minutes there, in his own hurt and insecurity, he’d forgotten hers. “Okay,” he said at last. “I get that. And if you’re not up for it, that’s…that’s okay.”

She stared at him for a few seconds while he waited for the relief to break across her face, but it never did.

“Okay,” she said at last. “I’ll do it.” She made it sound as if she’d agreed to have her tooth pulled out with a pair of rusty pliers, and he found himself smiling.

“You will?”

“Yes. Because it’s important to you. And because I want to, even if I’m terrified.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Look, if we keep giving each other excuses, we’ll be here all day. I’ll do it. Let’s go. Next weekend, you say?”

“Yes.”

She nodded resolutely, now like someone facing the guillotine. “Okay. We’re on.”

Oliver sat next to her on the bench and gathered her up in his arms. He loved the way she nestled against him, her head tucked under his chin. “Thank you, Seph. This may be the only time you see Pembury Farm.”