Chapter 3
Now
‘The Thorogoods are coming for dinner.’ For the last ten years, that’s been a completely normal sentence in this house. So why does it now fill me with feelings I can’t quite explain?
The boys and their parents have become our extended family over the years.
Hope Farm is home just as much as this place is – there’s no need to knock on the door, just letting yourself in to grab a plate of food and lounge on the sofa is standard practise in both houses.
Never once have I felt out of place in the Thorogood family, so why did I have to ruin it all by kissing the one that meant the most?
Now back on the farm and with dinner prepped, I look out at the treehouse from the confines of my Peppa Pig bedding, counting down the minutes until their arrival.
Never have I been this nervous about seeing Jacob.
In fact, he was always the one person that just seemed to understand me, as though we are cut from the same cloth, sharing one soul.
From the very moment we met, I felt safe with him.
He was like another home, just as much as these walls with Granny and Grandad, this stupid childish bedding, and that higgledy-piggledy treehouse at the end of the garden.
That’s why he was the only one I could talk to, the only one who could comfort me after Granny’s death.
Even Callum, who is a mirror image of my own DNA, couldn’t get close back then.
Back before things got awkward, I’d have already been out to find him by now.
We’d hide under a blanket in the treehouse and I’d tell him all about Mum and Dad.
Tell him that I am afraid of the future, of love, of grief.
But things are so different now. The thought of seeing him only adds to my anxiety.
The constant nausea I’ve felt since Mum and Dad sat me down to tell me they’re divorcing only grows at the prospect of him walking into this house.
How am I meant to sit across from him at dinner and act like it’s all okay?
The doorbell ringing forces me out of my thoughts.
Sweeping away a stray tear, I straighten out my outfit as if it’s something fancier than just jeans and a t-shirt.
Normally, my outfits are the sunshine, even when I don’t quite feel so sunny myself.
Always drenched in colour, always layered with florals.
But I can’t bring myself to wear anything happy today.
Not in this house, not without Granny here.
I creep quietly down the stairs. My attempts to go undetected are futile as the Thorogood clan gathers in the hallway, each taking off their boots and wellies, their voices overlapping in various conversations.
‘Ava!’ Alfie, the youngest brother, spots me first and makes sure that no one else can be ignorant of my presence. I can’t help but smile at him. He must be seventeen now, a tall bunch of gangly limbs and a smile so lopsided, it’s impossible not to mimic him.
‘Hi Alf, how are you?’ Too impatient to let me reach them properly, he lifts me off the bottom step in a big hug, no doubt showing off his new muscles that have piled on since I last saw him, and I slap him on the shoulder to set me back down. ‘Been in any trouble recently?’
‘Only the same old stuff. That college don’t appreciate budding entrepreneurs.’ He huffs. ‘I got suspended for a couple of days for setting up a car wash in the car park. It’s not my fault they’re missing a trick! Could be making loads.’
‘What he’s not telling you, Ava, is that he did it only in his pants.
’ Will butts in and offers out his hand for me to shake.
He’s never been a hugger. He’s the oldest and most serious.
Will Thorogood was always King Arthur when we were kids – the boss.
Callum and I didn’t mind, but his brothers and Lizzie, the Thorogood cousin, were always desperate to usurp him for power.
‘You alright, Will?’ Seeing the two brothers’ faces softens a little of the storm in my stomach.
‘You know me, always just right. How are you, Matthews? We’ve brought you your favourite.’ He hands me a dish filled with Mrs Thorogood’s famous lasagne and I accept it with a grin.
‘I’m much better at the sight of this. Thanks, Sian.’ I raise my voice just a little so the parents can hear me from behind their sons. I catch Mrs Thorogood’s eye and thank her with a wink.
There is one face I don’t see within the family, which is strange, because I always seem to find his face first in a crowd, as though my body has a homing beacon attached to him, and vice versa. No matter what, we could always find each other.
Once, we got separated foraging in the woods on the edge of the Wolds.
I still have no idea how Jacob managed to find me the moment the panic began to set in.
I was sure my time had come. It must have been less than half an hour, but already I was panicking about having to eat worms and drink from a brook, but before I could stoop too low, Jacob emerged from the trees, sweaty from running.
He swept away my tears with his muddy hands, the held my hand the whole way home, just to be sure he wouldn’t lose me again.
‘Looking for Jake?’ Will asks slowly. I shake my head, but my red cheeks probably give me away instantly. ‘He’s not here. He’s … ill. Won’t stop throwing up. Sends his love though.’
‘I thought he was at the pub,’ Alfie juts in. Then he turns to me conspiratorially. ‘As soon as he turned eighteen, he’s pretty much started squatting in there. Still won’t sneak me a pint into the beer garden though.’
‘Come on in, come on in.’ Mum emerges from somewhere further inside the house and begins to shepherd the neighbours into the kitchen.
I’m grateful for the distraction before the boys can notice how my smile has evaporated at the mention of Jacob.
My stomach sinks and each step as I follow behind them feels heavier than the last.
Ironic, isn’t it? I was dreading seeing him, and here I am, achingly disappointed by his absence.
‘Oh, Pippa, how are you, duck?’ Sian asks as she sees Mum.
‘We thought you might appreciate some company.’ My hearts pangs once again.
What about Dad? What about his company? He loved Sian’s lasagne too.
He would always make sure to text Dave Thorogood ahead of time to warn them when he was coming up, just to make sure he’d dropped enough hints for her to make one specially.
Will and Alfie find Callum at the dining table, and they go through their typical boyish greeting of roughing each other up a bit – nothing says I’ve missed you more than minor aggression.
‘Oh here, Sian, love,’ Grandad says as everyone funnels into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got all your dishes from last week.’ He swaps out the trays of fresh food for empty ones that he’s washed.
It’s nice to know that he’s had someone looking out for him. Granny meant a lot to everyone in the village, so it doesn’t surprise me that they’ve rallied around Grandad since she’s been gone.
This kitchen is the heart of the farmhouse; the Aga warms the whole thing through the winter, and no matter what the occasion, we all gather around the table that always has enough places to sit, even if we have to fashion more chairs out of garden furniture and old apple crates.
I’ve never seen anyone turned away from this table – even the postman has popped in a few times for tea and cake.
The surface is scarred with years of wear, the wood marked and stained from meals past, but to me it looks more perfect than if it was new.
Somewhere near the head of the table, there’s pencil marks from my year five homework.
I must have gotten a little too carried away and ended up shading the table as well as the paper, but Granny never fussed, she just tutted, shook her head and accepted that that was now part of her kitchen.
To me, this table represents all Granny stood for; her home would welcome anyone with a hot meal and pleasant company.
We all take our places at the table, and the seat beside me is empty.
These big inter-family dinners were a regular thing in the summers – we all had our own set places, and assigned jobs to do in the clean-up.
Jacob was always beside me, and we’d be tasked with taking the leftovers out to the pigs.
Losing myself in the memory, I tune out the voices that fill the room as dinner is dished out. It’s only when I hear my name being called that I snap back into reality.
‘How are you getting on, Ava?’ Dave asks as he tucks into his place. ‘You know what you’re wanting to do after college yet?’
‘I’ve, er, been applying to universities to study fashion.
I do – er, did – a course in it at college, back home.
’ The thought of swapping colleges and starting all over again makes me feel sick.
There is no fashion course offered at my new college, and I haven’t quite come to terms with the fact that I’m going to have to finish off the whole qualification by myself, with my tutor hundreds of miles away and only accessible by email.
I shove a fork full of pasta into my mouth before I can think about it too much.
I never expected to start a new school at eighteen. I certainly didn’t expect to start a new school, in a new town, taking completely different subjects because my Mum and Dad don’t love each other any more.
‘Fashion, eh?’ Dave replies. ‘That’s out there. You kids these days go to university for anything. Back in my day, you left school at fifteen and went to work with your old man or his mate.’
I laugh along to be polite. It’s the same sort of spiel I’ve heard from plenty of other people’s dads that are still stuck in the 1980s, including my own.
He works in business, the same as Mum. Both of them view the arts as a hobby, something fun to do after you’ve finished your ‘real work’.
I still don’t think that they’re convinced I could make a career out of this, no matter how many PowerPoint presentations I’ve given them on my employment opportunities.
It’s okay; they’ll see. I don’t need to waste any energy on people who aren’t actually that interested.
I’m grateful when the topic shifts to Callum.
‘You still collecting your mini figures?’ Alfie asks. He loves to tease Callum about his nerdiness, but he’s always the first one to want to have a look at his new collection.
‘Yeah, but I had to leave a lot behind in London. Couldn’t fit it all in the car, but brought enough models to keep me busy, and I couldn’t part with my lightsabres.’
‘I think we’d need a whole moving van just for his replica swords. Thankfully his dad was more than happy to keep hold of them for a while,’ Mum adds, seemingly unbothered by the fact that Callum’s swords aren’t the only thing left behind.
‘I’ve got a new PC though. I’ll show you and Lizzie once I get it unpacked.’ He tricked Mum and Dad into buying him a top spec computer ‘for his school work’. They had no idea that he’d actually use it for his late-night video game battles that he’d keep us all up shouting at.
‘Where’s your Jacob tonight?’ Mum asks once her son has finished another tangent about famous historical battles and how he has found ways to re-enact them on his PC through some game.
‘He’s si—’ Alfie begins, but his dad beats him to it.
‘—out with his lady friend, Prue?’ Dave says with a mouthful.
‘Pen,’ Sian corrects him with any eyeroll. ‘You see her nearly every day, Dave.’
‘Aye that’s it. Never at home that boy, always out and about.’
Will looks at me with a grimace, and Alfie shakes his head with a sigh.
I can feel all the blood drain from my face, and I have to grasp for my water to cool myself.
My hand trembles a little as I lift the glass to my lips.
I don’t know why I’m so surprised. I follow enough of their mutual friends on Instagram to have seen plenty of them in the background of photos.
Jacob and Pen have been a thing for a while.
Even before I left here the last time, they had something going on, and Jacob isn’t the sort of person to do anything by half, so of course they’re still dating.
I’ve met her a few times – she’s always been a friend of the family, to everyone really.
She goes to college with him, they both listen to music I’ve never heard of, and she has an eyebrow piercing.
Of course he’s still with her. He’d be a fool not to be.
I put a hand to my mouth to stifle a gag. I can’t seem to control it. My stomach doesn’t feel too happy either. It’s like when Mum and Dad first told me about the divorce – I could do nothing but dry heave for twenty minutes while sweating profusely.
‘You okay, Ava?’ Mum asks.
I nod, trying to swallow down my feelings.
‘You look awfully pale, duckie,’ Sian adds and now all of the eyes around the table rest on me.
‘I–I’m just a bit warm, I think,’ I reply, suppressing another gag. ‘I’m just going to get some air.’
Heading to the back door, I don’t bother to put my shoes on as I wander out into the garden and sit down in the earth beside Granny’s wilted roses. Jacob and I have never been anything, I remind myself. He owes me no loyalty after a stupid kiss, especially after disappearing on me right afterwards.
I just wish he’d have come over to say hi. He was once my best friend, after all.