Angel Kiss - Laura Jane Cassidy [19]
Love, on the other hand, was a totally different matter. I wanted that to be part of my life. I wanted it more than anything. I bent down and picked a daisy and pulled off the petals as I walked along. ‘He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not, he loves me.’
I hurried down the path to the garden entrance, pushed open the white painted iron gate and stepped inside. The garden was surrounded by a low hedge. It was small but perfect, with a wrought-iron bench, a water fountain in the centre and a picnic table down near the river. I was glad to be alone in this miniature paradise.
A family of ducks floated on the river, the smallest one diving beneath the surface every few moments. The water was still except for the ripples made by the ducks. I was tempted to skim a stone and watch it bounce along the surface, but resisted. I didn’t want to frighten them away.
A path led through the garden to the wrought-iron bench, which was under an oak tree. The iron felt cold against my back as I settled down, my patchwork bag beside me. Hundreds of people must have sat on this bench, each with their own stories, their own obsessions, their own pain. I took out my notebook and pen and started to write.
The words seemed to flow on to the page as easily as the river ran downstream. I like to just jot down whatever comes to me, not worrying whether it makes sense or not, and then work on it later. I read the words I’d just written, knowing that they were far from perfect, but knowing too that they reflected my feelings so, if nothing else, they were certainly honest.
When I thought about the last song I’d written it seemed like a lifetime ago. So much in my life had changed since then. I remembered it had been in Dublin, in my bedroom. I’d been so angry with Cian. I couldn’t believe what he’d done. When I thought back now I wondered if maybe I’d been angry with myself for putting up with his crap for so long.
I looked up at the sky with its patches of blue and vast white and grey clouds, and for the first time I felt happy to be living here. Maybe I could adjust to country life after all. I loved the quietness, the sense of peace. I began to understand why so many people moved away from cities. Mary had told me that there were lots of creative types living in and around the village, artists and musicians who had been captivated by its tranquillity. Maybe my songs would get better now that I had such an inspiring place to write.
I picked another daisy and began plucking off its delicate white petals. Each one spiralled in the air before dropping on to my notebook.
‘He loves me, he loves me not, he –’
The gate creaked. I looked up and was surprised to see Nick walking across the grass towards me, a guitar case slung across his back. Oh my god. I dropped the daisy to the ground and slammed the notebook shut. It was so weird to be thinking about someone so intensely, and then for them to show up out of nowhere.
‘Hi, Jacki,’ he said.
‘Hey.’ I was so surprised by his arrival that I didn’t have time to get anxious about it. Nick looked like he hadn’t got much sleep, but still managed to look irresistible.
‘What’s the story?’ he said.
‘Nothing much.’
‘Are you going to the table quiz in the parish hall tonight?’ He took his guitar off his shoulder.
‘I don’t know; maybe,’ I said. I remembered Mum mentioning something about it the previous week. The idea of it hadn’t exactly excited me.
‘Well, if you do go, you can be on our team if you want. Sarah has to work so we’re one short.’
I was suddenly most definitely going to the table quiz in the parish hall. I hoped that he hadn’t noticed my face light