23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
I ’d grown used to spending Friday evenings alone, while Rob toured the local boozers with his mates, so it came as a pleasant surprise when three weeks into our stay, Harry suggested a movie night and all residents agreed to participate.
It turned out movie night was a regular event at Lowen Farm, the residents taking turns to pick what film to watch. Our visit coincided with Pat’s turn to choose. Given its twelve rating, I wasn’t sure Forrest Gump was suitable for Bertie, but Pat convinced me it would be fine and I capitulated. I could always take Bertie up to bed if the film became unsuitable.
Pat was already setting up the DVD player when we arrived in the lounge. It was a cosy room, with an entire wall taken up with a long, squishy sofa. A selection of faded beanbags allowed for extra seating, Bertie jumping into one to claim it as soon as we entered the room.
Maggie and Stephan were the next to arrive. ‘Ta da,’ said Maggie, holding a bottle of Prosecco aloft. ‘I thought we should celebrate how well the meeting went today.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Pat, ‘I’d forgotten to ask how it went.’
‘Let’s just say I’ll eat my wellies if we don’t get planning permission. You’d think Liv had spent years as a project manager the way she answered all the bloke’s questions.’
‘It was a team effort,’ I said, experiencing a flush of pride at Maggie’s compliment. Facing the planning officer’s questions head-on had been exhilarating, a chance to exercise a mind that had lain dormant for years. For the first time in a very long time, I had felt useful, like Liv, rather than Olivia wife of Robert, a piece of arm candy good for parading around at parties and little more.
Harry carried a tray into the room, laden with glasses and bowls of crisps and nuts. ‘There are beers in the fridge, Stephan, if you want to fetch them?’
‘Sure thing.’
‘I’ve brought some too,’ said Seb, walking into the room and handing a bottle of bitter to Pat. Seb flopped down on the sofa beside me and held up his bottle of beer. ‘Cheers,’ he said, clinking it against my glass. ‘Here’s to getting the project off to a flying start.’
I looked up at him, and he smiled, holding my gaze. ‘I think celebrations may be premature,’ I said, taking a sip of my wine.
‘Who’s the pessimist now? You were amazing earlier.’
‘Thank you,’ I said, unable to look at Seb in case he saw how happy his compliment made me.
Andrea and Christine arrived, sitting down beside Seb. Andrea reached into her handbag and pulled out a box of chocolates. ‘It would have felt wrong to bring anything else, given the film we’re watching.’
‘Life is like a box of chocolates…’
‘Yes, all right, Pat,’ said Harry, sitting beside me on the sofa. ‘Give it a rest. You’ve been saying that all day.’
‘Well, I think we’re ready to hear it from the man himself,’ said Pat, pressing play on the DVD player. ‘Budge up everyone.’
Everyone on the sofa squashed together, leaving Seb’s leg pressing against mine, the smooth skin of his arm sending electric shocks through my own. Bertie shuffled his bean bag back until he was leaning against my legs. He had his own bowl of popcorn and had waded through half before the film had even started.
When it became clear, as much to Pat’s embarrassment as my own, that the film was not suitable for Bertie, he ran upstairs to fetch his iPad, then repositioned his bean bag so his back was to the TV, headphones on.
An hour into the film, I lost my battle against tears. I let them stream down my cheeks, hoping that in the darkness no one would notice. A hand reached up and I held my breath as Seb caught a tear with his finger, gently brushing it away from my cheek. I looked at him, the glare from the TV exposing the dampness in his own eyes. Without thinking, I reached for his hand, his fingers interlocking with mine. It felt so natural, I only let go when Bertie looked around to ask how much longer was left of the film.
By the time the end credits rolled onto the screen, the air was full of the sound of sniffing. No one moved to switch on the light, each needing a minute to hold a tissue to their eyes or blow their noses.
‘I’m sorry you had to sit out the film,’ I told Bertie.
‘It’s all right,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I didn’t like the kissing. That part was gross. Playing Minecraft was much more fun.’
‘Yeah, girls are gross, aren’t they?’ said Seb, winking at me.
‘Top up anyone?’ asked Pat, offering out a bottle of wine.
‘I’d better get Bertie into bed,’ I said, ‘but if there’s still some left by the time I come back down, I’ll join you in a nightcap.’
Bertie let out a dramatic yawn, stretching out his arms above his head. ‘I’m too tired to walk upstairs.’
‘You’re too big for me to carry, so you’ll have to. Come on.’ I held out a hand, but Bertie curled up into a ball, his fake snoring causing laughter among the assembled adults.
‘How about I help you up there?’ said Seb. ‘Has anyone ever given you a fireman’s carry?’
Bertie uncurled himself and frowned at Seb. ‘What’s a fireman’s carry?’
‘Stand up and I’ll show you. That is, if you’re not too tired to stand.’
Bertie climbed off his bean bag and stood in front of Seb. In one swift movement, Seb had a giggling Bertie thrown over his shoulder. Rather than despairing that I’d never get Bertie settled after the excitement, I relished the sound of his giggle. It was wonderful to see the recent change in him, from a quiet, brooding young boy, to one whose eyes sparkled, and who jumped out of bed each morning, desperate to see what the new day would hold.
I wasn’t stupid, I knew we were in a honeymoon phase at Lowen Farm and soon the realities of life would encroach on our state of happiness, but I intended to embrace every second while it lasted. It was the least we deserved after our recent stress.
Once in our bedroom, Seb leaned forward and lowered Bertie down. He pulled off his shoes and brought the duvet up to his chin.
‘Can I have a story?’
Seb looked at me. ‘No,’ I said, ‘it’s way past your bedtime. You’ll be in a terrible grump tomorrow if you don’t get to sleep now.’
‘What are we doing tomorrow?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
‘Actually,’ said Seb, ‘I need to go into town in the morning to run some errands. There’s a train from town straight to the beach. I wondered if you and Bertie would like to come with me? It seems a shame you’ve not seen any of the local area yet.’
‘Ooh yes please,’ said Bertie, answering for both of us.
I laughed. ‘It doesn’t look like I’ve got much choice.’
‘Goodnight, Bertie,’ said Seb, ruffling his hair. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Good night,’ said Bertie, his words caught in a loud yawn.
I walked over and kissed Bertie’s cheek. ‘Will you be OK here if I go downstairs for a little while?’
‘Mmm,’ said Bertie, already drifting towards sleep.
‘Are you sure you want us tagging along with you tomorrow?’ I asked Seb once we were back downstairs.
‘I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t. Bertie’s a great kid, which must make you a great mum, by the way.’
‘Thank you. Are you staying for another drink?’
‘No, I’d best get home.’
I hid my disappointment behind a smile. ‘OK, I’ll see you in the morning.’
I joined the others and topped up my glass. Whilst I enjoyed being in their company, I struggled to concentrate on the conversation, my mind straying to the feeling of Seb’s hand in mine. I told myself it was the gesture of a friend, and nothing more. But every time my thoughts returned to that moment, a frisson of excitement caught me off guard.
‘I’m going to head to bed,’ I told my friends. They wished me goodnight, and I made my way upstairs, hoping that a good night’s sleep would clear my head of all the foolishness currently filling it.