It Started With A Tweet(29)

‘So why didn’t you ask me?’

‘Because I knew you’d say no.’

‘That’s not true,’ I say, lying.

‘Of course it is. I could barely get you to make the two-hour train ride to Manchester where you’d get to stay in our luxury penthouse. Do you think I’d honestly have been able to convince you to willingly come here?’

I purse my lips. She’s right.

‘But helping me aside, I genuinely believe this is the best place for you with everything that’s going on at the moment. It’s perfect for your detox, there’s no mobile signal around here at all.’

‘What?’ I snap. ‘Then why is my phone lying ten metres down the bottom of a well?’

‘So that you’re not tempted to go hiking up the fells to find a signal. Believe me, it’s in the best place. We’ll get it out in a week or two.’

‘How are you going to get it out? I cut the sodding rope and there’s no International Rescue Team to save it like I’d been led to believe.’

And fishing with a stick doesn’t work.

‘Relax, I’ve got a plan.’

‘You and your bloody plans are what got me into this mess in the first place.’

‘Look,’ says Rosie, who’s stopped rocking and is leaning towards me. She grabs my chair and stills it. ‘This hasn’t changed anything. We’re still on a digital detox. You’re still getting away from modern life. It’s just that there’ll be less pretend meditation and more helping to pick out paint colours and curtain samples.’

I gaze around the bare room. ‘I think it’s going to take a bit more than a lick of paint and some curtains.’

‘I know, but it’s all under control,’ she says.

I hate to side with her husband, but I get the impression that this project is far too big for her. A small terraced house is one thing, but a run-down farmhouse and barns is quite another.

‘Rosie, there’s way too much work for the two of us, even if we knew what we were doing.’

‘Ah, well, I’ve got builders coming, and then I’ve got a French help-exchange coming to give us a hand next week too.’

‘A help-exchange?’

‘Yeah, I provide food and somewhere to live and in return they work. She’s called Alexis, seems very polite and formal in her emails.’

‘Um, are you sure that you can class this place as somewhere to live?’

‘I know it’s a dump now, but I’ve got a week to sort out one of the bedrooms so that it looks habitable. You’ll soon see that everything looks a lot worse than it actually is once we get stuck in,’

All the way up here I thought I was the broken one who needed to be fixed, but having listened to my sister, I get the impression that this trip is just as much about her fixing the farm, or, more accurately, her marriage.

It suddenly puts my phone addiction into perspective. Unlike me not being able to snapchat a photo of myself with cat ears to Erica, this is real life-changing stuff for Rosie. And there was me thinking she had the perfect life. For once my sister is the vulnerable one, and having seen a chink in her armour, I’ve realised that she might need me.

I guess a week off from my phone isn’t going to kill me, and it might let the dust settle after my tweet. As Erica kept saying, it will probably all have blown over by then. Meaning that I’ll get my phone back, contact some agencies, and will be sure to have a few interviews lined up for the week after.

‘It’s going to take a hell of a lot of work,’ I say to her, shaking my head.

‘But you’re going to stay and help for a bit, aren’t you?’ she asks, looking at me as if I’m her last hope.

‘Of course I am. I can’t go anywhere until I figure out how to get my phone out of that sodding well.’

Without thinking, Rosie hugs me with relief, and I hug her awkwardly back. I’m reminded of the times that Mum used to force us to hug goodbye when we visited her at uni, and the thought of hugging my sister in public was more embarrassing than the hand-me-downs she forced me to wear.

‘This time next week you’re going to have forgotten all about it. I may have made up that this was a real-life retreat, but I’m still going to take your digital detox very seriously indeed.’

‘Unfortunately, I don’t doubt that for a second.’





Chapter Ten

Time since last phone usage: 24 hours, 8 minutes and 19 seconds

I’m definitely going to have to be more careful what I wish for. First, I wished for sleep and I ended up losing my job, and then I wished for direction in my life and my sister presented me with a DIY project that would have Nick Knowles running for the hills.

‘And with a separating wall here,’ she says, flinging her arms out wide down the centre of the barn, ‘we could turn these two into self-contained lets.’

Since my sister told me the truth about her homestead she’s been animated in a way that I haven’t seen for years. Probably not since she was in her early teens. The sparkle that used to dance in her eyes has taken up residence once again, and she’s positively glowing.

‘But,’ she says shrugging, ‘we need to get the main house done first. I can rent that out and then do this up in the background.’