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These adult-height handrails are my apology to Justin for having absolutely zero intention of seeking him out for a footy-related conversation. No need to revisit those bad old days, but I do hope he gets to use this place and enjoy it.
I also hope that Rae’s second pitch went better than his first one—that he got his big chance, even if I’ll never know which journey he picked to run with.
He mentioned so many kids he’d met overseas while he sketched at that wedding, always coming back to one he drew wearing a yellow life vest, her skinny little arms outstretched toa plane that flew away without her family. Rae drew a cape for that girl, and now I kinda wish I knew if she made the final cut in his story.
Maybe that’s a soccer hangover—a pang of sympathy for anyone left on a bench. Perhaps I’ll pass a bookshop one day and find out.
And perhaps one day I’ll figure out how my stepmum always knows when to reach out to me.
I sit on that storytelling throne and get the virtual kick in the arse I need from her.
Kirsty:I just got the girls’ savings account statements!!!
Kirsty:Seriously, love, stop adding to them.
Kirsty: Spend your money on yourself. We’ve all got everything we need.
Kirsty:Apart from seeing more of you.
She follows that with a screen full of emojis that blow kisses, and one random dollop of poop.
Kirsty:Sorry. Didn’t mean to send that emoji, but I do mean it about the money. Seriously. They’ll only spend it on clothes, and there isn’t room for any more!!!
She sends a photo of their bedroom, and yeah, it’s cluttered and chaotic, the triple bunks I built for them almost camouflaged by clothing, but it is also enough of an incentive to get my head on straight, even if driving tractors across bumpy fields so often lately means my fingers shake while I type this.
Hayden:I’ll build them a bigger wardrobe next time I’m up.
I tag on another message before she can ask when that will be, and I add a kiss for each of them.
Hayden:Soon xxxx
That might be much sooner than I want once harvest is over and I run out of too-busy-to-visit excuses.
I’ll also run out of money to send home.
I shove that thought away the same way I shove my hands deep in my pockets to still them.
Another thought won’t be shoved down. It clings like a burr while I sit on a throne in a kingdom I’ve spent a summer creating.
I do want to be who teaches the kids here.
Adam toddling up to me with his arms raised like the kid in that picture Rae sketched is only confirmation.
We have a quick play while a tired-looking Charles wheels napping babies. Adam likes the thin discs of logs that I’ve sawn. We count them. Make a path of stepping stones with them. He jumps from each one before we stack them into a tower, and I find a chrysalis hiding. I haven’t read a book about a hungry caterpillar to my sisters in forever. It comes back to me for Adam. I’m word-perfect while I sit on that throne with him, and when I finally exit the woods, I’m determined to try to stay for longer.
At least through the winter.
I march to the main school building, because Rae didn’t put off that meeting of his, did he? He got on that train because kids need the cash getting ayescould net him. Now I take a shortcut—no brambles here to snag me or ivy left to smother this natural beauty.
The woods look so much better, and so does the school without the scaffolding that covered it all summer. Now windows gleam with a golden sunset, and I should go straight upstairs to find Luke and ask him to let me lead those sessions for him.
What I actually do is hesitate on the threshold of the front door, feet planted on mosaic tile welcoming me to Glynn Harber, and…
Will I still be welcome, if he has done his research?
I backtrack and end up at the stables, which feels like a mistake as soon as I see what waits on my bedside table.
The fairy king that Rae left here for me stares out from a sheet of sketchpad paper. He’s confident and commanding, at peace with his scars.With his past. Even his gaze is calm, and fuck me but I thought I was calm too until someone said four little words within Luke Lawson’s hearing.
