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Rose book in hand, a beaming Anca stepped out onto the terrace and sat down next to him. “I placed the order.”
Clueless, Nicks just sipped his lemonade.
“The roses. The English roses.”
“More roses?” He wasn’t exactly enthralled. They were a tad tricky to mow around, even with his new battery-operated lawnmower. But she loved roses, and she planted theirs reverently, almost as a gift to him, which was laugh-out-loud ironic and at the same time devastatingly endearing.
“I ordered a Gentle Hermione – isn’t that a lovely name? – and one named after an Iranian princess, and a Scepter’d Isle.”
“A septic what?”
They both laughed, and he kissed her hand, apologetically. “Is it important I know the name of all these roses? Can’t you just tell me what colours they are?”
She smiled and shook her head. “They’re called cultivars. And it’s not that simple. Anyway, this way, I’ll know we were together when I ordered the roses, and it will feel as if you were still here with me when I plant them.”
Nicks raised a mock-concerned eyebrow. “Do you know something I don’t?”
With a half-hearted smile on her face, she reached into the pocket of her cargo pants and handed him the ‘job’s’ phone. Wanting to say something but unable to find the words, Nicks just took it from her.
It was Simon. ‘n2cu f2f ‘. Strange. Not the usual official notification from ‘Aunty Dot’.
He typed ‘y?’
Almost instantly the reply. ‘Cnt say n2cu f2f urgent we hve bg prob’
She looked at him. “You have to go, don’t you?” He could see her eyes misting up already.
He nodded.