Plight(2)

"What? Are you jealous? Don't be. You're still the love of my life. I promise  …  even if your breath is about as welcoming as an abattoir." I gently pulled him into my arms. "Come here. Check out Lots for yourself."

Reaching around Dudley, I positioned the phone so that we could both see the screen.

Ice-blue eyes stared back at us; ice-blue eyes that had always had the ability to mesmerize me for the smallest of seconds. They were definitely something that hadn't changed since childhood. They were also the very first thing I'd noticed about Elliot Parker the day he moved in next door. I remember thinking to my five-year-old self that he was some kind of secret mystical being, like a giant elf sent to mingle with humankind for the purpose of reporting back to the Elf King.

Those eyes had not been of this world, and they still weren't.

Unable to ignore the obtrusive Messenger red number two any longer, I tapped on Elliot's bubblehead icon.

The first message was in response to my expensive taste and expectation of an elaborate engagement ring, but it was the second message that had been sent a day later that piqued my curiosity.

Elliot:

I earn enough money to cater for that expensive taste, so don't worry. ;)





Elliot:

Have I freaked you out? Sorry. Maybe I should explain so that it doesn't look as if I've been stalking you for the past seventeen years, because I haven't. I just want to make that clear.

Do you remember the community garden built by both our mothers in memory of Mr Hillier? Well, the local council have issued a demolition notice for the site on the grounds that it was not adequately maintained. I lodged an objection and was granted a temporary suspension notice provided the site meets regulations within 60 days of the issue date.



       
         
       
        

When Mum mentioned that you and Mrs Cunningham were to be involved in the reconstruction of the new garden, I felt compelled to look you up. That's when I noticed the date and remembered our pact.





Again, what the actual fuck?

Firstly, this was the first I'd heard about my participation in what sounded like a huge project. Thanks, Mum. Secondly, I couldn't believe the council wanted to demolish our garden. That news hurt my heart. They couldn't tear it down. It was special. And, thirdly, his winky face emoji was the first sign that he hadn't lost his ability to joke around.

At least I hoped he hadn't.

As I was about to type a reply to that effect, my phone started dancing within my hand, my mother's picture staring me in the face.

I tapped speakerphone. "Your ears burning?"

"Why hello, dear. Saying hello is the correct way to answer your phone. I could've been anybody, you know."

I shook my head and smiled. "No, you couldn't have, Mum. I knew it was you."

She laughed. "Oh, so you're a Psychic now?"

"Nooooo … " I narrowed my eyes and shook my head again. "Never mind. So, what's this I hear about Mr Hillier's garden needing to be rebuilt or it will be demolished, and that we are rebuilding it? When were you planning on telling me this?"

"Now, as a matter of fact, but your new psychic abilities have allowed you to beat me to it."

"I'm not psychic, Mum. I found out from Elliot Parker."

"Ahh yes, Helen's boy. Such a wonderful young man he is. Did you know he's a famous lawyer? He stopped the demolition so that we could fix the garden." She sighed, sadly, kinda fake-like. "I always thought the two of you would end up getting married and giving me grandbabies, so did Helen." Mum's part witch, part sing-song cackle, momentarily broke her words. "I think she still does."

I snorted. Loudly. "Mum! The garden. What's going on?"

"Okay, okay. Gee whiz. As of this weekend, we are going to be working around the clock to rebuild the community garden. Seeing as Helen and I are listed as the garden's founders, it's up to us to make sure we succeed or it will be demolished."

"What happened to the garden? The last time I saw it, it was fine."

"When was the last time you visited the garden, Danielle?" Her all-knowing tone was critical of my answer because it was warranted; it had been a while.

"I don't know  …  maybe a year or so?"

"Try at least five."

"No way!"

"Yes way. It's been at least two years for me, and I live here." 

Hunching with guilt, I hugged Dudley a little tighter for reassurance. The garden was special to Elliot's family and mine, and we'd neglected it. I felt awful.

"How bad is it?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.