It Started With A Tweet(42)

I detect the smallest hint of a smile on Jack’s face. He tries to cough to cover it up, but I’m sure it was there.

‘So who did The Price is Right, then?’ I try to go through my head with all the familiar faces of childhood: Bob Monkhouse, Michael Barrymore, Paul Daniels. But the more game shows and presenters, the more frustrated I get that I can’t remember.

‘What about Roy Walker?’ I say, clutching at straws.

‘No, he did Catchphrase.’

The walk back towards the farm seems a lot quicker as we pass the time chatting eighties and nineties game shows. It turns out we were both big fans of The Krypton Factor and Blockbusters. By the time we make it back onto the field that is officially the start of Rosie’s land, I’ve had three laughs.

‘You are allowed to smile, you know, I won’t tell anyone. Not even Liz or Gerry in the post office. Although I’m sure it would make their day.’

‘Oh, so you’ve already met them, then? No doubt I’ll get a full report next time I pop in there. Something to look forward to.’

I giggle. I can just imagine the reaction they’d get from him as they witter on about the village. ‘Yes, they were quite excited about Rosie doing up the farm, and a little pleased that they might have some tourists to sell their jams to.’

‘At least someone’s pleased.’

‘What have you got against tourists? It’s not like you’re a born-and-bred local, is it? Through all that growling and grunting, I can quite clearly hear a southern accent.’

I’m expecting a hint of bared teeth, like a dog issuing a warning, but instead I’m rewarded with a smile – a fleeting one – but a smile all the same.

‘You’re very right, I’m not from here – as Liz and Gerry will be the first to point out. I’m a newcomer, even though I’ve been living here for over ten years.’

‘So, what is it you have against others coming here? It’s a bit greedy for you to want it all for yourself.’

‘I don’t want it all for myself. I’m all for people coming to enjoy this part of the country, it’s just that I get a bit fed up with people coming and going. If you lived here, you’d know what I’m talking about. It’s bad enough when you get stuck in a traffic jam caused by a herd of cows, let alone when you are trying to get through a village in the Lakes that’s bunged full of cars, making it seem like you’re driving through Central London during rush hour.

‘And then there’s the fact that a lot of them don’t respect the land, and end up putting themselves, and others, in danger when they go off with their GPS-enabled mobile phones thinking they can call Mountain Rescue like they would an Uber taxi.’

I bite my lip and hang my head a little lower in shame, but out of the corner of my eye I can see that his frosty exterior has softened a little.

‘I mean, they do this stupid stuff like walking for miles to get a phone signal,’ he says laughing.

‘It’s not funny. Have you ever been separated from your phone for three consecutive days?’

‘I don’t have one.’

I look at him like he’s a Martian. ‘What do you mean you don’t have one? Everybody has a phone.’

He shrugs before conceding. ‘OK, I have one somewhere,’ he says, ‘probably lurking in the glove compartment in my car. A pay-as-you-go one.’

I shudder in horror.

‘As you found out today, the signal’s so hit and miss that it’s almost a hindrance having a phone when you’re out climbing and what not. You almost rely on it, and then if you were to get into trouble, chances are you’d be somewhere where you couldn’t use it. I prefer to use old-fashioned fail-safes, like I’ll usually tell Rodney from the farm over the valley if I’m climbing, and I’ll radio him when I get back safely. If ever I didn’t, then he’d pop over on his quad to see if all was well.’

‘I guess that’s smart. But what about the Internet, how do you cope?’

‘I don’t live in the Dark Ages, you know. I’ve got dial-up on the farm.’

‘Dial-up? Isn’t that from the Dark Ages?’ I try and recreate the squeaky noise that you used to hear in the days before broadband.

‘It’s more like this,’ he says, squeaking along in exactly the right pitch.

‘Oh my God, that’s it!’

‘I hear it a lot.’

‘Don’t you mind being somewhere so remote and cut off?’

‘Not really. I enjoy my own company, and I’ve got my work to keep me busy.’

‘What is it you do?’ I ask, but I trail off, as, bounding down the road, is Rosie’s green Land Rover.

‘Oh shit,’ I say, rubbing the phone against my hoodie like it’s a lamp with a genie inside. But I fear that as much as I rub it, there’s no one to answer my wish to magically teleport it back onto the kitchen table before they arrive.





Chapter Fourteen

Time since last Internet usage: 1 day, 21 hours, 21 minutes and 48 seconds

‘What’s wrong?’ asks Jack as he follows my gaze.

‘I borrowed Alexis’s phone and now he’s coming back and I don’t know how I’m going to put it back without him knowing.’