Chapter 5 – Pumpkin Spiced Lattes
Hadley – 22 years old
T he “-Ber” months have always been my favourite. As a kid, I would watch out the window in the summer evenings, willing God to hurry up and turn the leaves orange so I could run around in the cool autumn breeze with my wellies, hat, and scarf on.
As an adult, I crave it even more. There’s so much to look forward to coming into September with my birthday, then Halloween in October, Fireworks Night in November, and Christmas in December. How anyone can enjoy blazing summer heat and wet and rainy spring seasons, I will never understand .
I wrap my gloved hands around the plastic coffee cup the waitress handed me and step out into the icy air outside. Sipping my pumpkin spiced latte, I hum. Tastes like happiness.
I smile and nod as I walk along the pavement towards the riverbank, giving a few “Good mornings” as I pass the locals in my hometown.
Harpsden is a rich-person place but none of the people living within it act like it. Everyone is polite and kind; it’s a small community that looks out for one another.
With Halloween only two weeks away, people have started to decorate the fronts of the shops and their homes with pumpkins, skeletons, spider webs, and fake tombstones.
I grin wider during these months.
“Morning, Miss Jones,” Trevor calls, and I turn around slowly.
“Moooorning, Trev,” I singsong as his cane smacks against the concrete, his breathing becoming a little heavier as he catches up with me.
“You walk too fast,” he mutters.
“And you walk too slow.”
Giving me a sideways glance, he bursts into laughter. Trevor has been my boss since I was fourteen. Falling in love with the job, I decided to work on Trevor’s farm after high school as I went to college to study agriculture for my first-year courses, and now I’m in my final year of study for my degree.
Luckily, since I already worked on a farm when the practical side of study was required, I was able to do them at Trevor’s.
This week is placement week before we break for half-term holiday.
“So, what’s on the agenda for learning this week, Boss.”
“Dad, I need a—” Margo stops midsentence when I walk through the back door into the kitchen, her nose scrunched, and brows furrowed.
“Dad, scrap that. I need a fucking nose job. Bloody hell, Hads, you stink.” She grabs her notebook from the kitchen table and fans it in my direction. Giggling at her antics, I turn and flick the kettle on.
“No to the nose job, Margo, and Hadley, did you fall into pig shit again?”
I laugh.
“For goodness’ sake, language, everyone!” Mum shouts as she swans into the kitchen, then stops when my stench invades her nose.
Grinning at Dad, I say, “Horse shit, actually.”
He laughs before pulling Mum into his lap, demanding she protect him from the gases my body is letting off. She giggles and swats his hands away before turning to me and ordering one hot shower and a check-up at the doctor for being nose blind to the horror I’ve unleashed in the house.
I smile widely as I head up the stairs and into my bedroom. My peace is short-lived as my younger sibling enters my room.
“Shower and talk,” she orders me.
I turn my back to hide my smile and walk into the bathroom. Ever since we were kids, if one of us had to get something off our chests, we would wait until the other was in the shower, that way the one showering couldn’t get away from the other and avoid answering questions or listening. After turning on the shower, I enter, then pull the frosted, tinted shower door closed behind me.
As Margo sits on the floor, I lather the soap in my hands and wait for her to talk.
It doesn’t take her long to open her mouth. “Don’t get pissy with me on this, but have you thought about Luke recently?” I drop the soap and take a deep breath. Bracing myself on the wall, tears angrily fill my eyes as my heart rate picks up pace at the mention of his name.
I should have seen this coming; she always does this, bringing him up in conversations .
I say nothing, and Margo sighs.
“Hads, you are still alive in there?”
Ignoring her second question, I jump back to her first. “Why do you ask about him?” I snap.
“Okay, soooo you’re still alive, thank fuck,” she says deadpan. “And I ask because I know you loved him, and you haven’t dated … ever. So, I guess I’m just curious as to why?”
Every time she does this, I brush it off, saying I will find someone once I finish college, but this time around, her question was different. Usually, it’s “Have you met anyone yet?” and when my response was “No,” she pushed back with “Is it because of Luke?” It’s invoked an entirely new feeling in me. Anger .
I swipe tears from my cheeks before replying with “Does it matter? Why do you ask? You interested in him? Well, don’t, cause nothing good ever comes from it, and for the record, I work, I study, I’m fucking busy, Margo!” Every word gets louder until I’m shouting at her. I’m not sure why I’m taking this out on my little sister, she simply asked a question, and after six years, you’d think it wouldn’t be an issue, but it is.
The wounds Luke left me with haven’t healed. I’ve just learnt to live life with them.
I should get out there; I should have fun, party, and meet new people, but I just don’t see the appeal in it.
Deep down, I know the answer. If it’s not Luke, he’s not the one for me .
Margo says nothing for a while, and I think she’s left the room until she pipes up, “How’s all that work going for you? Your problem is that you hide in that work, so you don’t have time to think about him, right? It’s why you still work on the farm, right? You won’t go out there and do you because you’re so scared of leaving that part of you behind, that part of you on the farm that’s Luke’s.”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer before she carries on. “I just want you to be happy,” she states, then the bathroom door closes, and I know she has left the room.
I am happy … I was … I think?