Chapter 17
Teddy
It had been harder to ignore the growing tension between Chloe and me at D a little too charged.
That first week, when Fatima had asked if I wanted to join them at the pub afterward, I’d looked at Chloe, hoping for some sign that she wanted me there.
Instead, she’d looked away quickly, and I’d taken that as my answer.
And though I hadn’t wanted to intrude, I’d felt the longing to be there anyway.
The feeling of being on the outside looking in was just familiar enough to be unsurprising, and just acute enough to be painful.
I’d started joining them a couple of weeks later, but only now was it starting to feel less like I was an interloper.
It was easier now that I was forming one-on-one friendships – kayaking with Jack, texting with Fatima – and I was getting more comfortable.
They were clearly making a real effort to include me, too; they explained inside jokes when they came up, teased me as much as they teased each other, and took it as well as they dished it out.
But also, they were just good people. Fun to be around.
Enough so that it made me wonder if maybe Jen had been right, and I’d been doing myself a disservice by isolating myself all this time.
The weirdest part of all of it, though? I really fucking loved D nothing we couldn’t easily come back from, anyway.
As it turned out, I didn’t like not talking to her. Not one bit. Which annoyed me, because I’d always been spectacularly good at not talking to people.
But we’d both been busy enough that it was easy to coexist without actually having to interact much.
I had plenty to keep me occupied – the hives needed splitting again after the warm weather had sent the colonies into overdrive, the flowerbeds were exploding with growth that needed constant management, and I’d spent the last two days planting out still more seedlings.
Still, despite my own to-do list, if I wanted to mend fences, I figured the best thing would be to lean in and help her get ready for the festival.
Even if that meant wearing a different coloured T-shirt in front of the camera.
So I determined that, as soon as she was done avoiding me, I’d be ready to play nice.
My phone buzzed while I was in the shed, examining a cross-bred peony I’d been experimenting with.
FATIMA
Hot teacher development
I sloughed off my gloves and sat down to focus. This was exciting. Fatima had admitted to me that she had a workplace nemesis, too: a relatively new teacher who was “painfully attractive” (her words) but being a dick at staff meetings.
TEDDY
You finally fucked in the supply cupboard?
FATIMA
No, but he did ask me to lunch on our inset day next month
TEDDY
And you’re going, yes?
FATIMA
Idk, he’s been so rude. I told you about how he made fun of me for spending my weekend planning a lesson, right?
TEDDY
You did, but I still think he was trying to give you kudos to the head teacher??
FATIMA
I guess he has been kind of nice. And he’s not as gym bro-esque as I’d originally thought
TEDDY
Maybe you were wrong about him?
Maybe he’s not such a bad guy?
And that’s coming from me, about a man.
FATIMA
Then maybe you should try applying it to the women in your life?
TEDDY
I haven’t the slightest idea what you could be implying.
FATIMA
Plot twist: people are more complex than our first impressions of them…
TEDDY
Revolutionary concept.
FATIMA
I know, I should probably write a dissertation on it
TEDDY
You’d get funding for that research?
FATIMA
Absolutely. Why Teddy Cooper Needs to Stop Being a Stubborn Arse: a Longitudinal Study
* * *
My dad called again one day around lunchtime, meaning he was up late. And maybe because I was still replaying what Chloe had said about her own dad – mine may have had his flaws, but he’d always loved me – this time I actually answered.
Big mistake. He was clearly drunk, calling from some bar, asking if I could come pick him up because he didn’t want to drive.
I could hear thumping music in the background, and a voice close enough that Dad must have been with the person speaking, saying things like “let’s have another” and “no, don’t go yet. ”
“Dad, I’m in Wales, remember?” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I can’t come get you.”
“Wales? What are you doing in Wales?”
“Working. Like I do every year.”
“Right, right. Of course.” There was a long pause, filled with the background din of the bar. “I just … I miss you, kiddo. I miss you both.”
My throat closed up at this, and I swallowed hard. When was the last time I’d seen him? Christmas, probably, when I’d been in town for all of three days before heading up north to work a New Year’s event. It had taken me until the end of day two to sober him up.
Sure, he missed me, but I couldn’t say it back – I couldn’t lie to him.
Maybe it made me a bad daughter, but part of the joy of being at Gwenynen was knowing that I couldn’t be held responsible for him.
That, when he called me like this, there was actually nothing I could do.
It wasn’t on me the way it felt when I was stateside.
“I know,” I said, ignoring the ache in my chest. “Promise me you’ll get a cab home.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll get a cab.”
I checked my phone obsessively, feeling sicker by the moment, until he finally texted that he was home safe nearly four hours later. Only then could I focus on anything else.
* * *
The weekend after the impromptu girls’ night was a washout – I had to cancel a camping trip I’d been looking forward to – and I quickly developed a serious case of cabin fever.
Willow and I were both desperate to get out for a ramble, but the rain came down in sheets, and I could barely even see my car out front.
I spent most of Sunday twiddling my thumbs, trying to drum up some computer-based work to keep me busy.
But summer was all about the outdoor work.
It was why my seasonal worker visa allowed me to be here for the summer, after all. So being trapped inside felt like hell.
I’d assumed Chloe would work from home on Monday; anyone sensible would have taken one look at the weather forecast and stayed in bed.
But, sure enough, at half past eight, I spotted a familiar figure trudging up the lane toward the farm.
Her yellow raincoat was clearly no match for the deluge, and she looked like she was fighting a losing battle against the elements.
I looked around for Jen, thinking she might want to greet Chloe with a towel or hot tea, but she wasn’t in her studio.
I looked out and saw through the barn window that she and Maggie were huddled together in the office, laughing at something on Maggie’s computer screen.
They looked so comfortable together, so unconsciously intimate, that I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt.
Instead, I put the kettle on myself and found the oat milk I knew Chloe preferred. By the time she made it to the front door, looking like a drowned cat, I was waiting with a steaming mug and what I hoped was a welcoming expression.
“Come on,” I called out, waving her toward the house. “Get in here before you drown.”
Chloe looked surprised to see me, but also genuinely grateful for the tea. She stumbled through the front door, dripping water all over the floorboards.
“I don’t suppose you have a towel?” she asked, pushing wet locks of hair out of her face.
“I’m not sure a towel would cut it,” I said with a laugh, taking her coat as she held it out. “At this rate, you need turbo jet air blasts from all angles.”
“Kinky,” she said, raising one eyebrow slightly, and I couldn’t help but grin. “Got any of that hidden around here somewhere?”
“’Fraid not.”
“Then a towel will have to do, if you’ve got one.”
“I’ll do you one better,” I said. “You can borrow both a towel and some dry clothes, and we’ll chuck those in the dryer. They’re soaked through.”
I ran upstairs to my room, pulling out a pair of my most comfortable sweatpants and a North Dakota State T-shirt that I’d had for almost a decade. I handed them to Chloe, who ducked into the bathroom under the stairs to change.