Nearest Thing to Crazy by Elizabeth Forbes Page A

familiar slumbering quality that I often felt when I returned alone, as though it was shrugging off the inconvenience of our presence, settling back into itself and making almost imperceptible little sighs and creaks of contentment, stretching and relaxing like a host body free at last of its irritating little parasitical fleas and bugs. I went upstairs to the bathroom, keeping my footsteps light in deference to the mood of the house, past the open door of our bedroom and the bomb site of a bed that Dan had been the last to vacate. I made a mental note to tidy it up once I’d been to the loo. After I’d flushed, and rinsed my hands, I heard a dog barking. I looked out of the window and saw Dan by the woodshed, an axe dangling from his hand. Ellie was walking towards him, striding out with her long hair flowing in the wind. She had come from the direction of the footpath which ran along the fields between us and the Gales’ barn. Her cheeks were glowing and she was smiling. I took a step back instinctively, so that they couldn’t see me watching them. She kissed Dan on the cheek, and then placed her arm on his, and left it there for a moment. Dan ran his fingers through his hair as she talked. He said something and she laughed and then he gestured to the woodpile and shrugged. He leaned the axe next to the pile of logs and looked at his watch, and then put his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and rocked on his toes, as if he was thinking, and then he spoke again, his arms spreading in wide gestures which took in both her and the house, as though he were sweeping her towards it. She looked at her watch and she nodded. I could see her smile getting wider, and they both started walking back towards the house.
    I flew into the bedroom and flung off my baggy jersey, exchanging it for one of my best cashmere V-necks, and dragged a brush through my hair. I could hear Ellie’s voice filtering up the stairs. And I could hear Dan’s dark-chocolate-coated baritone filling in the gaps. He sounded animated and engaged. The smell of coffee combined with cigarette smoke hit my nose as I pushed the kitchen door open.
    ‘Hi!’ I said. ‘What a lovely surprise!’
    Ellie was leaning with her back to the Aga, in my favoured position, clutching the rail with one hand and holding a mug of coffee in the other. Dan was sitting at the head of the table, also drinking coffee, and stubbing out a cigarette. I noticed that Ellie’s terrier was sitting on his lap, its head resting comfortably on the table. We had never had a dog because Dan thinks they’re unhygienic, even though Laura had been desperate for one.
    ‘It’s so lovely to see you . . .’ She moved towards me, and as my lips almost met her cheeks I sensed her recoil slightly so that I was left kissing the air. ‘I was walking Coco along the footpath and didn’t realize it cut through the bottom of your garden.’
    ‘I’m just really glad you’re all right,’ I said. ‘I was really worried about you when you didn’t return my calls. I popped round but you were obviously busy. I feel awful now about taking you on the garden tour . . . that it might have been difficult for you . . .’
    ‘Difficult? Why would it have been difficult? I loved it. All those characters . . . It was huge fun, and great research material for me. I’m just one big sponge, soaking it all in. I knew I’d get loads of inspiration in a place like this.’
    ‘So you’re okay then, and the writing’s going well?’ I said.
    ‘Yes, really well thanks.’
    ‘I’ve just seen Amelia at the village market and she said you all had a lovely time at the cinema.’
    ‘On Thursday night. I’m really sorry you didn’t join us.’
    ‘I would have loved to, but I didn’t know about it.’
    ‘Oh no! You obviously didn’t get my messages. I just assumed you were busy.’
    ‘Messages?’
    ‘Yes. I left a couple on your mobile, saying give me a call if you wanted to come . . .’
    ‘I didn’t