The Things I Know(63)
With a swirl of resolve in her gut, Thomasina painted a picture in her mind of herself standing tall in a pair of sparkly red shoes. She was going to have to fasten her armour, determined that, even if things with Grayson did not turn out as she hoped, the wheels she’d set in motion would carry her forward to a different future, one in which she smashed through those fences and kept on going.
‘Dawtah . . . cworfee . . .’ she practised out loud.
Buddy began to run in circles in and out of the shallows; he didn’t want to sit still. ‘You want to keep walking, boy? All right then.’ She jumped down from the flat rock and dusted off the seat of her jeans. The day was slipping away and she wanted to make the most of the light, suddenly troubled by the realisation that there would be paths and lanes barred to her once the farm was no longer Waycott property. The idea was almost unthinkable for a woman used to roaming so freely and brought a lump to her throat that sat like glass. She’d reluctantly envisaged the farmhouse changing hands, but this particular thought had not yet occurred to her: that she would not be free to wander the land on which her family had toiled for generations, that she would have to use the roads and byways like any other person and that she would have to go the long way around. Her foot ached at the prospect. She called Buddy to heel and, with her spirits a little sunken, made her way home.
The sight of her message icon flashing when she woke the next morning meant she was smiling within seconds of opening her eyes.
SORRY. LOST MY PHONE. FOUND IT! THINKING ABOUT YOU. SHALL WE CHAT LATER?
She let her thumbs dance over the letters, firing off a reply as quickly as she could, with sweet relief and excitement in her veins.
YES! YES! YES! LET’S CHAT LATER. I’M THINKING ABOUT YOU TOO, ALL THE TIME. WENT TO THE FLAT ROCK. NOT THE SAME WITHOUT YOU . . . X
She felt bold adding the kiss, but hoped it conveyed what was in her mind, that she wanted nothing more than to kiss him and for him to kiss her in his own beautiful way.
He replied with:
X
Thomasina practically leapt from the bed, performing an elaborate dance in her pyjamas, her head nodding, feet tapping and arms flapping to music only she could hear in her head. This was what he did to her! And she liked it. She jumped into the shower with a spring in her step and a smile on her face.
‘Humming now!’ Addressing his wife, her dad jerked his thumb in her direction as Thomasina fried the bacon, enough slices for the lovely couple from Glasgow currently sitting in the dining room, as well as their own family.
‘Yep, and singing earlier. Dancing too. I heard her thumping around, thought she was going to drop down into the parlour through that rotted joist in the floor!’ Her mum joined in the ribbing.
‘Bloody racket is what it is! Think I preferred it when she was away in London.’ Emery did his best to draw the happiness from the room, but this morning he failed. It was a strange thing. They were inching closer every day to losing the farm and yet there was what could only best be described as a lift in the atmosphere of the place. She disliked the Buttermores, but the thought of them owning Waycott Farm was preferable to her cousin snaffling it from under Jonathan’s nose. Her mum and dad too were more relaxed than she’d seen in an age. It was as if they felt nothing but relief now that the thing they had feared and railed against for so long was actually underway. Without the fear of it, without the worry of uncertainty, there was room for the beginnings of peace and the chance to make a plan. Thomasina too felt a sense of calm. It was as if shackles were being unlocked and a whole new world of possibilities was opening its arms in welcome.
‘I’m off to market today,’ her mum said, slurping her tea.
‘Reckon I might come with you, love. I could do with nipping into Bristol on the way back. Hopefully, the trailer will be empty, if the calves go as planned.’
‘What d’you need in Bristol?’ Emery looked up.
‘I need to go and see the lawyer; the office is in the town centre. Just to talk a few things through. The farm valuation has come back and things seem to be moving on apace.’ He coughed.
‘When did they value the farm?’ Emery asked indignantly, and it bothered her, the way Emery assumed he could talk to her dad like that, as if he had any right to question him in that way. Who did he think he was? He wasn’t Jonathan!
‘Couple of days ago, while Thomasina was away in London. A man came round with a clipboard and I walked him over the farm and he took a look over the house and asked a few questions and whatnot. I had to fill out some forms.’
Thomasina liked the look of surprise on Emery’s face, a reminder to him that the three of them were a unit long before he pitched up.
‘What will you do if the Buttermores take over, Emery?’ She kept the questioning casual. ‘Reckon you’ll like working for Tarran? Sleeping in the shed? Doubt they’ll let you have a room in the house. Maybe we should leave the dog sofa in Big Barn for you?’
He stared at her, choosing not to answer.
She plated up the bacon and eggs, black pudding, fried bread and beans and whisked them into the dining room.
‘Good morning, Mr and Mrs Arbuckle. Did you sleep well?’
‘We did, dear, thank you. Like logs. Mind you, David and I can sleep on a clothes line. This is such a lovely place. We’ve been out early this morning, chatting to a very handsome pig over the road!’