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Put a unique spin on a journey.
The train hurtles towards my second shot at getting this right.
And as for me?
I get busy drawing.
8
HAYDEN
I leave Rae at the station, then keep myself busy all week long. That isn’t hard as Cornwall shakes off her summer greens for autumn metallics. Wheat ripples in the sea breeze, a golden ocean I sail through first on combines and then on tractors, baling straw.
I do that all over again the next week too on a different farm, sprinkling in a few of the last tasks left to complete at Glynn Harber—tasks that Luke told me to press pause on, which is proof that he’s a local. He told me the weather waits for no farmer, and he wasn’t wrong about that, but that repetitive work of driving up and down fields only gives me time for wondering how Rae’s meeting went in London.
So what if we only had a one-off that always had a deadline? Now I can’t help wondering how things panned out for someone I’m pretty sure was desperate to score long-term funding for his project and wasn’t as fully prepared as he could have been.
Because he helped me.
Fourteen days after we said our goodbyes, I’m also unprepared for a message pinging my phone.
Not from Rae.
I’ve had plenty of time to regret that we didn’t exchange numbers, even if our weekend together was a one-and-done, fleeting but so fucking good. I’d still much rather read a message from him than from who sends me this one.
Luke Lawson:We should finish our talk.
I know which conversation he will want to revisit.
It won’t be about that clearing I made for his students, which I keep circling back to between farm work. Charles says the nature-based activities I’ve added are proof I’d be an ideal candidate to work here full time. He insists all I’d need is a formal Forest School qualification, and that I should ask for a chance to run classes here while studying for it.
Last year, I wouldn’t have wanted that full-time commitment even if I had the right teaching credentials. I still thought my camping business had a future. Now, after spending a single night under canvas with Rae and remembering how that stove only took the edge off the cold last winter, I’m tempted to ask for what Charles says would get me a guaranteedyesand a permanent place at the stables. Even if that means sharing with a happily humming fucker.
Only I’m almost certain that Luke hasn’t messaged about me sharing the stables with Rowan for any longer.
He’ll want to revisit a conversation that a hectic wedding and a couple of busy weeks interrupted. His next text feels like confirmation.
Luke Lawson:Come and find me as soon as you can.
I can also guess what that means.
He’s had time to research what kind of tests players take before big matches. I even confessed to getting marched off a pitch in front of thousands, didn’t I?
That doesn’t happen for minor reasons.
Run classes for him? There’s no chance, especially now his school is full of students.
Charles has mentioned that some are fragile. Others are apparently volatile enough that Luke has had to stagger their arrivals. That has been a partial blessing—those new kids trickling into his school have kept Luke too busy to track me down and ask for my key for the stables back.
He’ll want to end my contract right now, even if I haven’t completely finished.
I get busy then too, only I spend every last minute in the woods doing what Charles suggested to extend learning.
I hear that in his posh accent—help the children to need each other—so that’s what I do over and over, creating natural teamwork chances with logs and tarps. With spoons and jars and buckets, and planks it will take two to carry. And with a storytelling chair that I turn into a real throne by carving a crown, a finishing touch I can’t help wishing Rae knew he inspired with his king of the fairies drawing.
Of me.
I add more finishing touches for both kids and adults, all while picturing an unsteady little girl who spilled her wedding petals and a brain-injured man I made feel bad but didn’t mean to.
