“I sort of like winter, though,” I tell her.
Her smile is all sympathy. “We’ve not started clearing out the dike system yet.”
•••
The morning is spent erecting a fence line with posts and stockproof fencing wire, which is terrifying in a high-tensile kind of way. I’m petrified of getting it wrong and ricocheting one or more of my workmates into the back of an ambulance. But the trepidation invigorates me—it’s an unexpected stimulant, having to focus so hard on not decapitating someone, or driving the tractor into a bog, or losing my footing and falling into a dike. It’s like the adrenaline shot I’ve been craving since the day I started working at the paint-tin company.
•••
We take lunch on top of reed stacks, deep in the middle of the fen. Hot and heaving from the morning’s work, we shed fleeces and jackets, even though it’s not far above freezing. We watch the pivot and plunge of a hunting kestrel, the cold air washing like water over our sweating skin. From a nearby belt of bare-branched trees, the chipping of jackdaws falls like rain.
As we inhale our soup and sandwiches, the conversation turns to wanderlust. Dave, a volunteer and recent ecology graduate, is leaving next week to work on a conservation project in Brazil, monitoring and researching wildlife at a state park reserve. I’ve been completely in awe since the moment he told me.
Fiona asks us all for our bucket-list destinations.
“Latvia,” says Liam. Blunt and broad-shouldered, with hair the color of honey, he’s Fiona’s permanent assistant, coming on board five years ago after realizing exactly how bad he was at financial auditing. “Beauty, peace and quiet, no one around to annoy you.”
“You’ve already been to Latvia,” Fiona points out. “That doesn’t count.”
I smile, think of my guidebooks back at the flat, wonder if Liam and I might turn out to have a lot in common.
Liam shrugs. “Don’t want to go anywhere else.”
“Not somewhere more exotic?” Dave says, though the smile in his eyes tells me they’ve had this conversation before. “Africa maybe?”
“Nah. You know I’m cold-blooded. Anyway, I’ve seen as much of the world as I want to see.”
Fiona turns to me. “How about you, Callie? Dream destination?”
“Lauca National Park,” I say. “You know, in—”
“Chile,” everyone choruses.
I lean forward slightly. “There’s this bird there—”
Dave starts laughing. “Ah, the famed diademed sandpiper-plover.”
Liam snorts, upturns his crisps packet toward his mouth. “You’ve got a better chance of seeing a snow leopard.”
“Or a unicorn.” Dave chortles.
“I know someone who’s seen one,” Fiona says.
I nod eagerly, remembering the girl on my course at uni. “So do I.”
Dave smiles. “Well, if you ever get a picture, make sure you send it to me.”
Fiona meets my eye. “Take no notice. My friend says the place is stunning, real once-in-a-lifetime stuff. And that bird would be an epic find.”
“Right,” Liam says, crushing his empty packet and checking his watch. “This is all very nice and everything, but that fence line needs finishing off.”
“You’ll have to get used to him, I’m afraid,” Fiona says to me, with a wink. “He’s a bit like a husky. Always itching to keep moving.”
I like Liam already—he seems like my sort of guy. So I’m first to jump eagerly down from the reed stack and follow him back to the fence line.
•••
I knock on Joel’s door when I get home, smiling as he winches me into a hug. “Sorry—I’m all sweaty and horrible.”
