It Started With A Tweet(67)

‘So, are you looking for a new job?’ asks Jack.

‘It’s too hard at the moment without the Internet. I should probably start looking soon, though, as I don’t want to have too big a gap on my CV.’

I sigh. Without the Internet I can convince myself that it was one tiny tweet and that everyone will have forgotten about it by now. I’m totally fantasising that I’ll walk straight into another job, when in reality I won’t know until I start trying if I’m going to be able to carry on in marketing. The digital detox and the renovations have been great distractions from the muddle my life is in, but sooner or later I’m going to have to face the real world. I can’t hide forever.

‘What is it that you do?’

‘I’m a marketing account manager, so I oversee the materials that clients send their customers or investors. You know, end-of-year financial reports and shareholder updates.’

It’s hard to imagine that something that sounds so simple could take up my whole life.

‘And that’s what you’re going to get another job in?’

‘Yes,’ I say without even thinking about it. ‘I mean, it’s the only thing I know how to do, and at my age I can’t really be changing careers.’

‘At your age,’ he says chuckling. ‘Aren’t you still in your twenties?’

‘Actually, I turned thirty-one last month.’

‘Right, well, you do realise that you probably still have another thirty-four years left of work? I’m pretty sure that gives you plenty of time for a career change.’

‘For a man maybe,’ I say rolling my eyes, ‘but if I started something new I’d probably have to retrain and then start at the bottom and work my way up. There’d be a drop in salary, which would mean having to live in a shared house as I wouldn’t be able to afford to live on my own. And not to mention that I’d want to be in a decent position when I go on maternity leave.’

‘Are you .?.?.?’ starts Jack as he looks at me in confusion.

‘Of course not, but I am thirty-one, so I’m guessing that if I do meet someone and we want to have kids, then I’m going to have to start in the next ten years.’

Jack’s quiet for a minute while he takes it all in. ‘You know, you could still do all of that. Maybe you just need to move out of London where things are cheaper and you might not have to give up so much.’

‘Oh right, I’ll just pack up my life and move somewhere completely random where I know no one,’ I say, half laughing.

‘That’s what I did. I came up here on a walking holiday with some mates, saw the cottage was for sale and bought it. Before that I lived in Islington.’

My eyes almost pop out of my head.

‘What?’ he says, laughing. ‘Do I not look like someone who could come from London? Believe it or not, I used to work in Canary Wharf.’

‘You were a trader?’ I say in disbelief.

‘No, far from it.’

I’m about to quiz him more about what he did, but we’ve reached the end of the wood and we’ve found ourselves on top of a ridge.

‘Now, this is Angel Hill,’ he says, walking along to get out of the tree line.

‘Oh wow,’ I say, as I spin round on my heels taking in the 360-degree panoramic views of the valley. I can spot the farm nestled in its dip and it looks the size of a piece of Lego from here. The village houses made up of the dark grey slabs seem to merge into one, making it look like one giant building.

‘This is incredible,’ I say. So much better than the view from the last hill, and as I’m not hanging precariously off a cliff, I’m able to appreciate it too.

‘I thought you’d like it. There’s a bench up here if you want to sit down for a bit?’

He leads us along the ridge until we get under an oak tree, and there’s a small bench carved from a tree underneath it. The brass plaque dedication reads ‘In Loving Memory of Angela’.

‘I wonder who Angela was,’ I say almost in a whisper.

‘She was Rodney’s wife. She died of breast cancer just before I moved here.’

‘I didn’t realise he was a widower,’ I say, realising just how little I know about him, and, again, making me feel even more guilty for trying to use him for his Internet the other day.

‘I can see why he picked this spot for a bench, it’s so peaceful here.’

Jack nods. ‘And they call it Angel Hill as you feel as if you’re looking down on everything from up here.’

‘It’s beautiful,’ I say, as it catches in my throat.

‘I know we all joke about him being an amorous farmer, but I think it’s only as he misses Angela so much. He still comes up here to be near her.’

I blink back a tear as I imagine Rodney sitting in this very spot.

‘So you and Rodney have always been close?’

‘Uh-huh, he took me under his wing when I arrived. He needed it as much as I did. He’d had a hard time grieving and when I moved here I gave him someone to look after. I think it was as good for him as it was for me.’

‘And now you’re taking me under your wing,’ I say almost without being able to stop myself.

‘Ha,’ he says laughing. ‘I guess I am. Although it’s going to have to be a pretty big wing with all the help you’ll need.’