The Things I Know(87)

Her mum’s rare compliment was as beautiful as it was heartfelt, confirmation that she was letting Thomasina spread her wings, sending her off with her blessing, and it felt like a gift.

‘Thank you, Mum.’

‘Do you think you might bump into Jonathan? Both my babies in America – what a thing!’

‘I don’t think so. Wyoming and New York aren’t close on the map. I did look.’

‘Well, Pops and I will be here, living it up in our new home, God willing. Life goes on, eh, my little love? Life goes on.’ It was her mum’s turn to well up. ‘Anyway, that supplement’s not going to get into those cows with you stood there snivelling! Do I have to do everything myself?’ her mum yelled with vigour as she made her way across the yard.

‘I do love you, Mum,’ Thomasina called out. Her mum ignored her, lifting her hand, as if catching the words. Thomasina smiled after her. She was right, of course. It was time to let go and move on.

Life goes on . . .



The lights in the mall at Cribbs Causeway were bright, the shop windows shiny. It was like another world, where everything was glossy and clean and everyone had neat hair and wore make-up, a million miles away from the mud and grime of farm life. This wasn’t the first time she and her friend had ventured here. On their first trip she’d acquired a bottle of plum-coloured nail polish and on their second a rich velvety hand cream that helped rid her hands of calluses and which had the most glorious scent of gardenias. She was getting her hands ‘holiday ready’, not wanting to step off the plane with cow shit under her fingernails.

‘What will you do first when you get to New York?’ Shelley asked, holding up a slinky dress with sparkles down one side.

Thomasina shook her head. ‘Ew, no – I’m not going to any discos. I’d never wear it!’

Shelley put the dress back on the rack as Thomasina considered her question.

‘I’m not sure what I’ll do when I get there. Probably walk for miles and miles and look at everything: the pavements – or should I say sidewalks – the skyscrapers, the “walk”/“don’t walk” signs, the stores, Broadway! And I’ll eat hotdogs and giant pretzels and drink cworfee as I stroll through Central Park. Ooh, and I have to jump in a yellow cab and cross Brooklyn Bridge and ride the subway and take the Staten Island Ferry and salute Lady Liberty. And when it’s dark I’ll go to the top of the Empire State Building and throw wishes off the top. It’ll be like living in a film! All the things I’ve seen in films and on the TV, and I will actually be there!’

‘Not that you’ve given it much thought,’ Shelley offered sarcastically, and the two giggled.

‘I can’t help it, Shell! A million images keep whizzing around my mind! I feel sick, I feel excited, happy, nervous, scared, you name it, but most of all . . .’

‘Most of all what?’ her friend prompted.

‘Most of all, I feel like me. The me I’m supposed to be.’

‘Your mum and dad are going to miss you.’

‘I know, but it’s only for six weeks, and missing me I can cope with. At least with the farm gone they won’t need me, and that makes it a hell of a lot easier to go.’ She thought of Grayson, as she did from time to time – about ten times a day, if she were being honest.

‘And they’re going to build on the land they hold back?’ Shelley was trying to keep up.

‘Yes. They’re retiring, but keeping a couple of acres where they can build a bungalow.’

‘That’ll be really weird when you come home and Tarran’s living in your house!’

‘It will be, a bit, but the thing is, Shelley, I’ve wanted change for so long in my life and this feels like my chance! I shall come back renewed and ready to start up my little venture. And I’m bloody hungry for it!’

‘You crack me up.’ Shelley laughed. ‘I’m bloody hungry now – fancy cake and a coffee?’

Thomasina nodded, and they abandoned their clothes shopping, or rather pretend clothes shopping, as neither had the funds right now for anything new, and headed to the food court in search of a bun.

‘Oh my God!’ Thomasina stopped in front of a window, drawn to the most exquisite pair of shoes she had ever seen. Her eyes drank in the sparkly toffee-apple-red fabric, bedecked with sequins, the neatly curved kitten heel, and with a bow no less, sitting on the front. They were the beautiful shoes of her imagination. Shoes that would never fit a foot like hers, but she loved them nonetheless.

‘Oh my God, Shelley, will you look at them?’

‘They’d be no good for mucking out the cows, but I can see you walking down Fifth Avenue in them.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t want to wear them, no matter where I was. I’d just love to own them, and I’d have them on a special shelf, on display like art!’

‘Well, that I understand,’ her friend said, laughing, peering closer at the price tag. ‘Holy moly! They’re nearly five hundred quid!’

‘As I say, art!’ Thomasina giggled and took a picture on her phone so she could look at the pair of beauties whenever the urge took her.

‘I can probably get you a few shifts at the pub if you like, before you go?’

‘Oh, that might be good. Thank you!’