It Started With A Tweet(83)

I’m starting to get so nervous that I’m about to be one step closer to getting connected. The only thing stopping me from totally flipping out is the thought that even when I get the phone in my hand I still won’t get any signal here: phone or Internet. I just hope that I’ll be ready when we drive to somewhere with a signal.

In the old days I would have gone nuts if I didn’t check my phone every five minutes and now I’m going to be grateful for at least a five-minute respite of the time it’ll take us to reach the village.

All this time I’ve been craving logging on, but, now that I’ve actually got permission, I’m scared. It’s terrifying, not just because I have to think of what I’m going to find, but also because I actually have to figure out a plan for the future.

Receiving the letter from E.D.S.M. has made me remember that I have to go back to the real world, to find a job, and that means finding out what people have been saying about me and that awful tweet.

I turn and look over my shoulder at the ramshackle farmhouse opposite and I feel a pang in my heart. I feel far more at home here than I did in Erica’s flat, despite living at the latter for almost four months. The farmhouse has changed so much since I arrived, and I can’t believe that I’m not going to see the rest of its transformation.

I already sound as if I’m leaving, when I know I’ve only been offered an interview, and not a job, but I know that once I open Pandora’s box – aka switch my phone back on – I’ll have to face up to all I’ve been running away from.

‘Don’t look so down,’ says Rosie, slipping her arm around me, and I turn back to the well. I’m not sure when we got so tactile around each other as it feels so normal now. ‘We both knew you’d have to get back to reality at some point. And I guess you’ve managed the digital detox for three weeks; I’m sure your fingers have been glad of the rest.’

‘They’d be lucky; all that paper stripping has pretty much ruined them. I’m worried that even if they wanted to swipe my phone they wouldn’t be able to.’

‘See, I told you this type of break would make you a different person.’

I smile. I’m really going to miss my sister. I never really appreciated her when we lived in the same house, but now, in these few weeks, I feel as if I’ve realised what I missed out on during those teenage years where we spent our time arguing over who’d pinched whose belt or who’d ruined whose Heather Shimmer lipstick.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ I say, a little sadly.

‘You don’t have to go right now. I’m just letting you have your phone back. You know you can stay as long as you want.’

I smile, but she knows as well as I do, that as soon as I switch that phone on and my old life comes flooding back to me, I’ll have no choice but to go.

‘I have to stay, at least until Alexis goes, next week. I did promise.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ says Rosie shrugging. ‘Rupert’s barely speaking to me on the phone, so I doubt he’ll be rushing up here anytime soon. Besides, he thinks he’s your lover anyway, not mine .?.?.’

I look back at the well. With Rosie’s permission to go, all that’s keeping me here is my phone.

‘So how are you going to get them out, then?’ I ask.

‘Ah, I have a plan for that.’

She picks up a stick from behind the barn that has a large magnet tied to it.

‘Don’t tell me that’s been there the whole time?’

She shakes her head. ‘No, I bought the bits to make it this morning from the builders’ merchants. There’s a magnet taped to the box that we put the phones in.’

She lowers it down, and there’s silence as both of us hold our breath in expectation.

Any second now, and I’m going to get my baby back.

My stomach is well and truly in knots now. I can’t decide if I’m excited or terrified. Maybe I’m both. Excited to speak to everyone again, but terrified at what I’m going to find relating to #priceless.



‘I think I’ve got it,’ says Rosie. ‘Hang on, hang on. Balls!’

This time, I don’t even react. We’ve been trying to get the phone for half an hour to no avail. I should have known that she’d have been useless; she was always the one who could never hook a duck at the fair when we were kids.

We hear a splosh in the water at the bottom of the well.

‘I’m so sorry, Daisy, I thought it would work. I read about it on the Internet, and I guess the problem is all that rain. This well was supposed to be totally dry. I don’t even think a stronger magnet would help as it’s too difficult to line up the magnets under all that water. That’s if the water hasn’t lifted the tape off the box in the first place.’

My nostrils flare as I try to remain calm. It’s only a phone, it’s only a phone, I say to myself. These last few weeks have proved to me that I can survive without it, but it’s what’s on the phone that’s upsetting me.

‘Surely there has to be another way. What about getting a rope ladder and climbing down?’

‘I think you’d get stuck, it’s not the widest of wells.’

‘What about a hook? Or a stick? Or a .?.?.’ I’m at a loss.

‘I’m sure I can get it out .?.?. eventually,’ says Rosie. ‘I can ask one of the builders next week if they’ve got any ideas. They might be able to help.’