Chapter 15 #3
Guy is part of that family and I don’t want to let things fester between us.
I don’t want to feel awkward around him, or to have any doubts, or to do the stupid thing I’ve done in the past where I avoid a situation rather than deal with it, because it’s just too potentially painful.
I ran away from home when I was young, and that was part of my process – part of making me who I became.
Like my mum always knew, it was something I needed to do – to have my wild travels, to roam, to be free.
I was different than the others, and she was right – it was okay to be different.
But I stayed away for far too long because I was scared.
Of coming back to a place that reminded me too much of her and being overwhelmed by that loss.
Of coming back to people I felt I’d let down.
I didn’t feel I deserved to come home, and as the years went by that hardened into an emotional callous that I used to protect myself.
As those years passed, it got tougher and tougher to consider returning.
I was too afraid of facing it, too afraid of being rejected.
If I’d only reached out sooner, I’d have known that fear was unfounded.
I can’t change the past, but I can make sure that I don’t make the same silly mistakes again. I know what I have to do.
I go back to the café and find a tired-looking Sophie on duty behind the counter.
Apparently Connie and Sam are having a snooze in the stockroom, and I’m glad of that.
I feel quite determined right now, and don’t want to get distracted.
I order more coffee – black, no sugar, the way he takes it – and more sweet treats, including some extra for Evan.
I am very much the goddess of hot beverages and baked goods today, it seems.
I walk around the back of the village, seeing Archie and the girls as I pass the greenhouse.
He’s staring miserably into a big bag of compost, while Lilly and Meg copy dance moves from a video they’re watching on their tablet.
Their plaits are flying, they’re screeching with laughter, and I can hear the thumping beat of the music from here.
I wave to him and he manages a weak salute in return. His fate is sealed.
I stroll up through the field, passing the sunflowers as I go.
I pause to appreciate how majestic they are, swaying in the mild breeze, their bright orange heads bouncing on thick green stalks.
The day is fresh and warm, the hum of insects in the air, the gentle soundtrack of the waves rolling into the bay offering a murmuring backdrop.
I look up, feel the sun on my skin, and smile. Like Cally said, it will all be okay.
I spot Guy sitting outside the tent. He’s clothed this time, in a battered pair of Levis and a plain white T-shirt.
He’s holding a book but looks too exhausted to actually be reading.
I wave as I walk towards him, and he immediately holds his finger to his mouth in a ‘shush’ gesture.
I don’t usually appreciate being shushed by a man, but I know he had Evan overnight so there might be extenuating circumstances.
He points inside the tent flap as I approach, and I smile when I see Evan’s little blonde head poking out of a sleeping bag.
His arms are thrown out at his sides, and he’s wearing the cutest pyjamas covered in tiny dinosaurs.
His hair is ruffled, his cheeks rosy, and he’s letting out little puffing snores.
The very picture of innocence – while he’s asleep at least.
The two of us walk a few feet away and settle on the grass. I pass Guy the coffee and lay open the box of pastries between us. He pounces on both like a wild animal.
‘Thank you,’ he says between sips and bites. ‘I can’t tell you how much I needed this! I’m so wrecked this morning I couldn’t even figure out how to boil water, and I’ve been reading the same page over and over again since I woke up.’
‘You should have had a lie-in!’
‘It’s hard to have a lie-in when you’re being constantly karate chopped in the throat and then hugged so hard it’s like you have a life-sucking limpet attached to your body.
That child is unreal. He has more energy than the Duracell bunny, and sleep is his mortal enemy.
He only drifted off a few hours ago. I think he realised he’d broken me. ’
I laugh, picturing the scene. World traveller, former soldier, veteran aid worker Guy Keegan finally destroyed – by a two-year-old.
‘I think there are a lot of broken people knocking around the village this morning,’ I tell him. ‘It looks like there’s been a zombie apocalypse to be honest. Look, I wanted to talk to you about our conversation last night.’
It’s a sudden segue, I realise, but I don’t want to give myself the chance not to do this. It would be easy to do. He raises an eyebrow, his green eyes meeting mine. ‘You don’t have to. I know I caught you off balance.’
‘You did. You play your cards close to your chest, Guy, and all this time I’ve been flirting with you, I never imagined you might feel the same. And I do have to talk about it, because I care too much about you not to. I don’t want to fuck this up, to put it not very politely.’
I whisper the swear word, even though we’ve put some distance between us and the tent. I do not want to be responsible for teaching Evan his first profanity.
‘Really? Even after that time we, uh, got carried away? It was still a surprise that I was interested in you?’
‘Yes!’ I say enthusiastically, nodding so hard my ponytail flips around.
‘That was just a moment. And you rarely flirted back. And anyway, that happened just before I told you my up-the-duff news, and I assumed it was a one-off, just one of those weird things that often happen in tents! You know what tents are like – they’re dangerous places! ’
He’s smirking slightly as I rant, and I take a deep breath to calm myself. ‘Anyway. So. Yes, it did surprise me, and I want to clear the air because if we don’t, we’ll get all weird around each other and that would totally suck. Who goes first?’
‘I think you’re on a roll. Here, have some pain au chocolat.’
I take it from his hand and devour it. He’s right. I am on a roll, and that takes calories.
‘Okay,’ I say, once I’m done. ‘So I like you a lot. We’re different but the same.
I enjoy your company, and also you’ve not exactly been hit by the ugly stick.
But at this stage in my life, I’m not in a position to start something new.
Not something casual, and not something serious.
Just, not anything at all. In fact I’ve decided to become a born-again virgin.
I don’t want to lose your friendship, and I’m worried that if we take this any further right now, then I will.
I’m not good at relationships, and as you’ve said yourself, neither are you.
We’d be like, disaster squared. To infinity. Times a million.’
‘That bad, you think?’
‘Possibly worse. So, I’d like to keep this platonic, and I’ll even stop flirting with you to prove it. That’s my piece, well and truly said. Your turn.’
He shrugs and simply says: ‘Okay.’
‘Okay? I give you my full speech, and all you’ve got is okay?’
He runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head.
‘Look, first of all I’m operating on maybe two hours sleep here.
Secondly, I’m me, and talking about my feelings isn’t something I find easy.
Last night, I was high on cave magic, and I said what I said without planning to.
I don’t regret it, and I meant every word, but I also don’t want it to be a huge deal.
I like you too. In fact, I more than like you.
But I also completely understand what you’re saying, and you’re probably right. Hence, okay.’
Huh. That took the wind out of my sails. I’m not sure what I was expecting. Drama? An argument? Him begging to become my sex slave, or him telling me he never wants to see me ever again? None of that tracks with the kind of man Guy is, and it all says more about me than him.
I turn what he has actually said over in my mind and come to the conclusion that ‘okay’ is actually okay. We have both been honest, and although there is more that we could add, it wouldn’t change anything. It would just cloud an already complicated subject.
‘Okay,’ I tell him firmly. ‘Good talk. I’m not great at discussing my feelings either. I think people communicate way too much these days.’
‘I know, right?’ he replies, grinning. ‘So, have you given any thought to what you’re going to do when the baby arrives?’
‘Cry and have a nervous breakdown, I suspect. I was really unsure about coming back here, as you know, and it’s not been completely plain sailing – but it’s been better than I thought.
I’ve been happier than I expected. Part of me wondered if I’d be here for a few days and then decide I couldn’t hack it, but here I am.
Still here. It feels like a good place to have a baby, doesn’t it?
Or am I just desperate for some kind of stability? ’
‘No, you’re right. It does,’ he says. ‘It’s a beautiful place, full of kind souls. The way they took Miranda under their wing, looked after her and Evan… The people here are as much her family as I am, maybe even more so. You could do far worse than stay here. What about longer term?’
Longer term. For me, that’s never been a solid concept.
Maybe when I was with David and expecting our twins.
We’d talked about what we’d do, where we’d settle, what our future would look like.
We’d even talked about coming back here, at least for a short time, so he could get to know my family.
That was the last time I dared to imagine what long term might look like, and it did not end so well.
Now, I am measuring time in the development of my baby – this week, he or she is the size of a peach, and is starting to hear.
Next week, an avocado. It’s exciting stuff, and it’s measurable – I can look at a website and find out what is happening and what is due to happen.
It is miraculous but reassuringly predictable.
I wish there was a similar website for my own life, because I don’t have huge amounts of clarity about that right now. I have ideas, but they’re not well formed – not even an avocado. Possibly a grape or a cherry.
‘I don’t really know, Guy,’ I reply. ‘The near future seems challenging enough really. I’ve spent years on the move, travelling, doing different things and meeting different people.
The thought of standing still is an odd one, but not all together unappealing.
I need to figure out what I’ll do to be useful though.
If I stay, I have to be useful. I can help out in the village, do yoga classes and the like, but longer term I was thinking I’d maybe look at teacher training. Does that sound stupid?’
He thinks about it, and I realise I am keen to hear what he thinks. That I value his opinion so much that he is the only person I’ve even mentioned this idea to. It’s only half baked anyway, but I did enjoy working with children in India, and I do have a degree that I’ve never even used.
‘No. Not stupid at all. I think you’d be great,’ he says eventually. ‘Wasn’t your dad a teacher too?’
‘He was, among other things – he dabbled in the stock market as well, which was always a surprising thing about him. He’d be thrilled if I stayed, thrilled if I became a teacher.
I hope I don’t let him down. I never want to let him down again.
Anyway. Enough about me, fascinating as I am – what about you?
You said last night you’d stay for as long as you were needed… ’
I don’t specify who by, because we have cleared the air, and I don’t want to pollute it again. He nods and finishes his coffee.
‘Yeah. I’m staying, for now at least. There’s plenty of work around here, and Archie says the village committee is looking at taking on a handyman as well.’
‘That could work,’ I say, gazing at him thoughtfully. ‘You are a man, and you are indeed handy…’
‘Are you thinking about me in a tool belt again?’
‘Absolutely not. That would be flirting, and I don’t do that any more, remember?’
The slow, indulgent smile he gives me is enough to make me reconsider that vow.
In fact it’s enough to make me reconsider everything – including my recent vow of chastity.
Week sixteen of pregnancy, the internet tells me, is when I might see an increased sex drive.
The internet is obviously wrong, because I feel like I’ve had that since I met this man.
The man I have literally just told is firmly in the friend zone. Ah.
Luckily, I am saved from my sick temptations by the arrival of a now wide awake two-year-old boy in dinosaur pyjamas.
He crawls out of the tent flap, looks around with bleary eyes then spots us.
He makes a tottering beeline in our direction and climbs straight onto Guy’s back.
Pummelling his shoulders, he yells: ‘Aeroplane, Grandad, aeroplane!’
Guy laughs and hoists him up onto his shoulders, spreads his arms out like wings, and zooms around the field at top speed making revving noises. Evan clings on for dear life, chuckling so much he can barely breathe.
I lie back on the grass and watch, laughing at their antics. The bigger picture is too much for me to really comprehend – but the little picture? The tiny details, the sweet brush strokes of life like the sound of a child’s giggle? That will do for now.