I got here I thought I’d find you near the peony stall.’
‘Because they’re my favourite flower?’
‘No, because legend has it that mischievous nymphs like to hide in the petals of peonies, causing this magnificent bloom to be given the meaning of shame or bashfulness in the language of flowers,’ he replies.
Is he calling me a mischievous nymph? And if he is, is that a good thing? I shake my head. This is not the moment for innuendo and analogies; we’re confused enough. Another thought strikes me: since when did Adam know so much about flowers? I stare at him, dumb-founded. ‘How do you know that?’
‘You told me,’ he says, looking awkward.
Did I? I’d forgotten. ‘When?’
‘Forever ago.’
I blush again, newly doused with shame and regret. Is it possible we once talked about the meaning of flowers? How could I have forgotten that? How did I let that slip away?
Adam notices I’m scarlet and comments, ‘You look like one of these peony flowers, right now. You know, the same colour.’
He’s looking at me with an intensity that is making me wilt. I scramble about my brain for something neutral to say; something that won’t betray regret or wistfulness. Something that is impossible to misinterpret; a comment which cannot have a deeper meaning read into it. Some plain speaking.
‘Peonies tend to attract ants to the flower buds. This is due to the nectar that forms on the outside of the buds,’ I say authoritatively.
‘Are you calling me an ant?’
‘No!’ Failed there then – he still read more into my comment than I meant him to. I try to explain. ‘I’m just saying that however perfect they look there’s always a drawback.’
‘Are you talking about Scott?’
‘No! I was trying to talk about nothing!’ I sigh, defeated.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh, yeah, that’ll be right, you don’t do talking. You run, don’t you,’ says Adam. Oh bugger, didn’t see that coming. Adam glares at me. Any compassion I thought I detected has been swallowed by anger. He shakes his head wearily. ‘I didn’t know what I’d done wrong, Fern. I still don’t know what went wrong. I woke up one day and that was our last and I never even knew it. We were doing fine, Fern, weren’t we?’
I can’t answer. I want to look away from him because his pain is burning in his eyes and it’s obvious in the small, tight lines around his mouth too. But I don’t look away, it would be too selfish, I should see what I’ve caused. He continues.
‘Well, I thought we were and then you left. You just weren’t there any more. People shouldn’t just bale out when the going gets tough. People should stay put and work stuff out. People should talk things through.’
‘I tried to talk to you,’ I offer gently, weakly.
‘You gave me one ultimatum and you didn’t even stick around long enough to see how I’d respond.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Well, that’s good to know,’ he says sarcastically. ‘And now you’ve run away again.’
‘I thought you approved of me running out on Scott.’
‘I’m glad you’re not marrying the man but there were better ways to tell him.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I repeat.
‘Yeah, I’m sure Scott will be stoked to hear that.’
‘He slept with Ben,’ I point out.
‘You knew that yesterday. You could have called it off yesterday before the cameras were rolling.’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Life is.’ Adam spits out the words and stares in front of him. He looks irritated. Nearly all the flowers and stalls are packed away now; the warehouse looks bleak. I get the feeling that pretty soon someone is going to brush us up with the bits of stray foliage and sweep us into the bin. ‘Why didn’t you finish it yesterday?’ asks Adam.
‘Because you didn’t want me,’ I reply with a heavy sigh. I’m not delirious about admitting this but what is the point of trying to save face at this stage? ‘And I didn’t have the courage to leave without you. Or, at least, I thought I didn’t.’
We sit silently side by side. Him in a smarter suit than I have ever seen him wear – in fact, the only suit I have ever seen him wear – and me in a gown that cost six months’ salary, but we don’t look as grand and refined as we ought. We look bizarrely out of place in among the empty trestle tables.
Adam looks nervous but strangely elated. I can almost see his thoughts whirling around his head. I wonder what he’s thinking? I wonder whether he’ll let me move