Chapter 9
Rick needed coffee. Cursing the lack of power at the barn, he scratched the heavy stubble that had sprouted overnight and examined the log burner. Could he warm a pan of water on it? He’d have to find some kindling first. Dad had taught him how to light a fire years ago – on that disastrous camping trip. After the divorce, Mum had moved back to live with her parents in Scotland, taking Rick with her. Rick remembered her bristling with anger when Dad had arrived for a visit unannounced.
*
‘You can’t just turn up like this, Alan.’
Dad waved an apologetic hand. ‘Charlie lent me a car and I—’
‘I don’t care if he lent you a coach and horses. You should have called first.’
‘Please, Suzie – oh, hiya, Ricky, how are you? Look! I got you something.’
From behind Mum, Rick watched as Dad pulled a large stuffed bear from the back seat of the car. ‘This is Boo. He’ll keep you company when I’m not here.’
At six, Rick considered himself too old for teddy bears. Nevertheless, he squeezed past Mum’s legs, snatched the bear to his chest and threw himself into Dad’s arms. ‘I missed you.’
‘That bear isn’t going to fix anything,’ snarled Mum. ‘If it weren’t for the courts saying I have to let you see him, I’d not let you darken this door.’
‘Please, Suzie. I’m here on my own. I thought we could camp at that site up the road.’
Mum gave a bitter shout of laughter. ‘Now I know you’re mad for sure. It’s April.’
*
Back in Charlie’s barn, sitting on the sofa with Boo, Rick smiled.
That trip was awful, apart from building that fire to cook sausages.
His stomach rumbled at the thought. The next time Dad had come, they’d driven to a small hotel instead, watched movies and eaten junk food. All future Dad visits had followed the same pattern. They’d even played video games on a portable console plugged into the television of whichever hotel they were at.
It’s a shame I never met Charlie, given what great friends he and Dad were .
Rick vaguely remembered a man trying to talk to him at Dad’s funeral, but Mum had yanked him away. In all honesty, Rick had been in no fit state to register anything and… well… then he’d thrown himself into work to escape the grief. Rick shook his head. Working too hard had led to his own divorce. After that, work was all he had.
Only, he didn’t have it anymore.
Rick stared out of the window, fighting a dense, invisible fog of loss, his eyes roaming over the farmhouse opposite. It was in a worse state than the barn. Both driveways were in poor condition, with a preponderance of weeds and grass sprouting through gravel. The missing gates explained how the cows had been able to get so close to both houses.
I should sort something out to stop that happening again. A gate might deter other unwelcome visitors, too.
As things stood, the paparazzi could waltz right up to the door, unimpeded. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of strangers invading his sanctuary. Rick’s gaze tracked the likely route for trespassers across the yard and spotted a figure approaching the door. Striding to the door, he yanked it open.
The warrior queen managed a wooden smile. ‘It seems we’re neighbours.’ She thrust a plastic tub the size of a shoebox into his hands. ‘Welcome to Old Farm Lane. Sorry, I can’t stop. We’re late for school.’ She didn’t sound sorry. She turned on her heel and hurried away.
What can I say to repair this?
‘Thank you,’ he called, finding his voice far too late.
Intrigued, he carried the tub to the kitchen worktop and popped off the lid. Inside were half a dozen chocolate cupcakes. The enticing sugary aroma from the cakes made his head spin. An almighty growl from Rick’s mid-section announced his belly’s intention to crawl up his throat and eat him if he didn’t hand over the cakes right now. Stuffing an entire cupcake into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed. Slowly, the world reassembled itself around him in a more recognisable order as his blood sugar level stabilised.
Three cupcakes later, he felt up to making some decisions. Basic ones, admittedly, but it was a start. Opening his laptop, he piggybacked off the nearest – rather feeble – Wi-Fi connection. No doubt something else to thank the warrior queen for. Tamping down paranoid thoughts about being digitally tracked, he searched up local power companies. A miraculously short time later, he received the good news that power at the property could be restored later that morning. Thank heaven.
In the meantime, he still needed coffee. And, while he was at it, some basic provisions wouldn’t hurt. An online supermarket delivery to the barn was an option, but might give his location away. A local corner shop was a better bet. He searched up a map of the area.
*
Beth herded Daisy, Jack and Grace towards the door. ‘Come on, guys. We need to move.’
‘You’re the one who kept us waiting,’ grumbled Jack. ‘Where the f… uh, where were you?’
‘Taking a welcome gift next door.’
‘Are you crazy? After what he did?’
‘He’s our neighbour. We need to get on with him. For the animals’ sake, if not ours.’
Jack flared his nostrils at her. ‘You’re soft in the head, you are.’
Beth secretly agreed. Common sense insisted that a placatory gesture was necessary and she didn’t have the energy to argue with herself. What a shame her Wolverine was such a disappointment. He hadn’t exactly welcomed her or her gift with open arms and there was none of the easy connection they’d had the first time they’d met.
It just shows dreams should stay dreams . More fool me for getting my hopes up.
‘What’s done is done.’ Beth rattled her car keys. ‘Let’s hit the road. No. Hang on. Grace, you can’t go dressed like that. Mrs Fintan will kill me. No, don’t look like that… I don’t mean she’ll actually kill me… but she’ll tell me off, again. You’ve got to wear your preschool T-shirt.’
‘I am.’ Grace pulled up her glittery jumper to reveal the blue T-shirt with the gold preschool logo.
‘Swap the jumper for a cardigan, so the T-shirt shows,’ said Daisy. ‘But defo keep the sparkly tights and the tiara. You look epic.’
Grace did as Daisy suggested, glaring at Beth as she did so. Then she grabbed her coat and stomped outside, only to stop on the doorstep and gasp. ‘Wow! Look! There’s cow poo everywhere.’ Grace skipped over to the car, waving her arms around and singing at the top of her voice. ‘Poo, poo, poo. Everybody, smell that poo!’
The trail of mess left behind by the herd made Beth sigh. Yet another job to do .
Daisy, tiptoeing around a particularly large cowpat, yanked open the rear passenger door. Jack folded up his long legs and inserted himself into the front passenger seat along with a backpack and a stack of lever-arch files. Fortunately, the engine kicked into life without its usual objections and they were soon trundling down the hill towards the village.
Used to stony silence from Daisy on all car journeys, Beth was astounded when the teenager spoke.
‘I’m going around Noah’s after school today, yeah? Like, to study.’
‘He’s in the year above and you aren’t doing the same subjects. How you going to study?’ scoffed Jack.
‘Shut up, Jack!’
‘Hasn’t Noah’s mum just had a baby?’ asked Beth.
‘I love babies,’ declared Daisy.
‘No, you don’t,’ said Grace. ‘You hate babies. You said so.’
‘Well, maybe I do, but I love you, Grace – you know that.’
‘Of course you love me. I’m not a baby.’
Beth met Grace’s gaze in the rear mirror. A flare of alarm shot through her chest as she recognised Daisy’s defiant attitude reflected in the younger girl’s eyes. ‘No. I want you home at the usual time today. No going to Noah’s.’
‘You’re not my mother. You can’t stop me.’
‘I’m the adult responsible for you. You can see Noah at the weekend.’
‘I heard he went clubbing last Saturday and got totally bladdered,’ said Jack.
Daisy slapped the top of her brother’s head. ‘Butt out, Jack.’
‘Stop it, both of you. Daisy, you’re coming home and that’s final. You need to study. Think of your future.’
Daisy huffed. ‘At least I’ve got a future.’
Jack whistled. ‘Savage.’
‘I beg your pardon, Daisy?’ asked Beth.
‘Just because you’re old and your life’s over,’ Daisy hissed, ‘doesn’t mean you can wreck mine. If I want to go out, I will. So there!’
‘Yeah!’ chimed in Grace. ‘So there!’
Enough . Beth hit the brakes and swerved into a lay-by.
‘Hey! Go easy,’ protested Daisy. ‘Why are we stopping?’
Jack shot Beth a look. He opened his mouth, then very sensibly closed it again and hunched down in his seat.
Beth gave Daisy a steady stare via the rear mirror. ‘You’ve got two choices. Apologise and agree to come home at the usual time, or get out of the car.’
Grace’s eyes ping-ponged from Beth to Daisy and back again.
Daisy frowned. ‘You can’t—’
‘I can.’
‘But…’
‘Try me.’ Beth crossed her fingers.
‘There’s no need to get salty. I was only saying—’
‘I’m not remotely interested in what you were saying. Are you in or out?’ I’ll feel so guilty if I actually make her walk .
‘In, okay? In. God! Sorry. Alright?’ The defiance in Daisy was heavy enough to crush concrete. ‘Can we go, already?’
Beth took her foot off the brake and eased the car back onto the road.
Silence reigned for a few minutes before Grace spoke. ‘Mummy?’
What now? ‘Yes, Grace?’
‘Why is there a sofa in that field?’
‘What?’ Beth glanced over. Sure enough, in a field to her left sat a battered brown sofa, a similarly worn footstool and an old fridge-freezer lying on its side with the door hanging open.
‘I have no idea, Grace. Let’s just get to school, shall we?’