Chapter 7 #2
He laughs and then points towards a field to the right of the pub. ‘I might’ve been a gentleman, but that sheep over there was having a right good gawp.’
Sure enough, there is a sheep still staring over the nearest wall, and it does look a bit traumatised. I wave to it and when it sees me looking, it bleats forlornly but keeps watching us.
‘You’ve made a friend.’
‘Good, I could do with a new one,’ I mutter.
‘It’s a pervert sheep who likes seeing people naked. It hasn’t been this excited since the naturist ramblers group came through.’
‘Please tell me you’re joking.’
He does not confirm that, and the thought of naked ramblers and a pervert sheep is my undoing, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that bursts out if I tried.
I end up laughing so hard that he’s laughing too, but probably in that nervous way of someone humouring you when really they’re wondering if you’ve lost every single one of your marbles or only half of them.
He even laughs at my attempts to get myself back under control, but it’s too late for me. My eyes are watering and the more I try to stop laughing, the funnier it all seems.
His eyes are shining and his grin is impossibly wide as I take a deep breath and try to compose myself. No perverted sheep has ever been that funny.
I should go, but every time I see this man, I find myself lingering for longer than necessary. ‘Are you okay? It sounded like you hurt something then?’
When he raises a questioning eyebrow, I add, ‘There was a yelp.’
‘You’ll get used to it. I’m a very yelpy person. Generally, if you hear a yelp, just ignore it. If you hear uncontrolled screaming after the yelp, call for help because I’ll have accidentally cut off some vital limb or other.’
Again, I really hope he’s joking.
He’s leaning against the doorframe with his bad leg lifted off the floor, and I nod towards it, but he tells me it’s fine before I even have a chance to ask.
I hold his gaze for a moment, trying to think of something I can do for him, some way to repay his kindness, but he assures me he’s all set on the lukewarm tea and out-of-date Pot Noodle front.
‘I should go.’ I say it aloud this time to force myself to stop lingering and ignore the reluctance I feel at the thought of walking away. I like his bright-side-coded outlook; it makes me feel more capable of looking on the bright side too. ‘I need to figure out what’s wrong with the van.’
‘At a guess, the water tank’s empty.’
‘Maybe,’ I say, wondering how the heck you refill a campervan’s water tank and if my ancient laptop survived Jared’s throw-out so I can google it. ‘No, wait, there’s some sort of recycling system where it takes the used water and purifies it in an endless loop of water.’
Why didn’t I pay more attention to Jared when he was going on about the wonders of his beloved campervan? If only I had foreseen that one day I’d steal the thing and end up having to figure this stuff out on my own while pretending I know everything about my van that I own.
‘Ahh, I see.’ He rubs his chin like he’s thinking it over. ‘Powered by what?’
Why does no one coach you for situations like this?
I wrack my brain, trying to sift through Jared’s endless monologues that I filtered out because cars and vans have never interested me, and being in a relationship with a mechanic tends to come with a lot of info about things he understood and I didn’t.
‘Could it be the solar panel on the roof?’ Reece suggests, looking down the steps towards the van.
‘It could be…’
‘Ah ha.’ He holds a finger up like he’s had a lightbulb moment. ‘Pop quiz time – what are solar panels powered by?’
‘Sun… Daylight.’
‘Right. And where have you parked? Because from here, it looks like it’s under a ruddy great tree.’
‘Under a ruddy great tree,’ I echo in resignation as I follow his gaze down to the car park.
In trying to make the van as inconspicuous as possible, I’ve parked so far under the trees that all natural light is blocked out by the branches, stopping the solar panel from charging the battery that powers everything inside the van.
Reece pushes himself off the doorframe and steps outside, and I wince on his behalf at the limp and the intake of breath as he tries to disguise how painful it is.
‘If you turn it around and scooch it over just a bit, you’ll have full sun and no branches to stop you putting the pop-top roof up for the extra headspace.
You can stay there as long as you want with nothing obscuring the solar panel. ’
I stand next to him at the top of the steps and look down the grassy bank dubiously. ‘But that would mean moving it.’
‘That would be the general consensus, yes.’ He’s much taller than me and he looks down with that curious look again, the one that says he can clearly tell that, until yesterday, I’d never driven anything bigger than a very small car. ‘If you tuck it in alongside the bank, it’ll be out of the—’
‘Tuck? You think I can tuck this thing in anywhere? It’s got the turning radius of the Titanic! And you appear to think I can reverse it without ending up in the river.’
‘Nah. River’s over there. If you were going to end up in it, it would be frontwards.’
‘Very comforting, thanks.’
He laughs at my sarcasm. ‘So when you bought this thing yesterday, it didn’t come with any form of instruction book? No manual for how to ensure the power stays functioning?’
‘I didn’t buy it yesterday.’ I give him a suitably scathing look. It’s not exactly an untruth. ‘But my driving skills are a little rusty, and last time I attempted to move it, I nearly killed you!’
‘Ah, I’m fine.’
‘You’re not fine, Reece! You’re hurting and trying so hard to pretend you’re not, but that leg must be making every moment of your day harder, and it’s okay to be annoyed or angry or upset.’
‘I’m not. And you seem like someone who needs a bit of kindness, so I’d rather choose that.’
The sob that escapes is unexpected, but suddenly tears spring to my eyes and my throat tightens, leaving me frantically swiping at my face. I’ve embarrassed myself enough in front of Reece for one day, I don’t need to cry as well.
He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder, hesitantly, like he’s well aware that we’re complete strangers, and yet, after his openness last night, I feel like I’ve known him for a lot longer, and his gentle touch makes me want to slip my hand over his and hold it there.
How much lovelier would the world be if more people were like him?
‘Sorry. It hasn’t been the best twenty-four hours.’ I sniffle and try to pull myself together. In the space of five minutes, I’ve gone from laughing hysterically to howling. He’s going to think I’m the strangest person who’s ever run him over.
‘Not all of it bad, I hope?’
I look up at him and hold his gaze, those twinkling blue eyes challenging me to focus on the positive parts. ‘Not all of it at all.’
‘Good.’ He does a decisive nod. ‘If even one hour out of twenty-four is a good one then no day is a complete loss.’
‘Some people would say that’s a pretty bad ratio.’
‘Eh, I’m an optimist, I’ll take what I can get. Sometimes one good hour is the best you can hope for.’
I’m intrigued by what’s gone on in his life to lead him here. The ‘bit of both’ comment he made last night replays in my head, about being lost or running away from something, and it makes me even more certain that his bright attitude is covering a sadness that he’s trying to keep hidden.
* * *
Half an hour later, after the world’s most chaotic parking manoeuvre, I’ve finally managed to get the van into the sunny spot and tucked neatly alongside the hill and the steps that lead up to the pub, facing forwards so I can make a quick getaway if need be.
I turn off the engine and sit there for a moment, my hands trembling.
Reece appears at my window, looking shell-shocked but still managing to smile. ‘That was… educational.’
Letting him stand on the steps and try to direct me was not one of my better ideas. ‘I nearly ran you over. Twice.’
‘Only twice? It was many more times than twice.’
I look at him through the open window – this remarkably optimistic man who’s just risked life and limb to help me park a campervan – and wonder how I ended up in this ridiculous situation. ‘Thank you for not laughing too hard.’
He lays his arms along the bottom of the open window and rests his chin on them.
‘Oh, I’m impressed. I’ve never known anyone with quite such dedication to mixing up left and right, nor have I ever met anyone who seems to think there are three lefts, and it is honestly inspiring that someone can make a three-point-turn into a three-hundred-point-turn. ’
He’s still grinning as he looks up at me through the hair blowing across his forehead, and it would be strange if I felt an urge to reach out and brush it back, wouldn’t it?
Instead, I reach over and extract a leaf belonging to the hedge he had to dive into to avoid being mown down. Again. I hold it up to show him, just so he doesn’t get any ideas about me being a weird stranger who thinks it’s okay to touch other strangers’ hair.
His warm fingers brush against my clammy ones as he takes it and I feel that little spark inside me. There’s something about this man that’s doing things to me.
‘Thankfully the village is within walking distance.’ He pushes himself up and throws the leaf upwards and watches it twirl to the ground. ‘And if you need anything else, we’re taking my car.’
A very good plan all round, I think.