“Yeah, yeah, I know. I didn’t name the place, one of the others did.”
“Others?”
“Yep.” Kim opened the gate. “Come on. I’ll show you.”
I followed him onto what at first glance looked a little like a farm. There were chickens pottering around, and a few veg patches my dad would be happy to call his own. To the left was a weathered shed, and a tatty motorbike outside a beat-up garage. All normal stuff, right? It took me a moment to realise what was missing.
“Where’s your house?”
Kim grinned. “You’ll see.”
I took his word for it as he showed me around the land he called home, and yet amongst the random sheds, greenhouses, and workshops, I didn’t spot anything that appeared remotely inhabitable. What Ididsee, though, was every contraption under the sun designed for eco-hippie-style living. Mini wind turbines and recycling bins. There was even a compost toilet. In fact, there were three of them, complete with solar-powered showers.
“How many people live here?” I asked.
“Permanently?” Kim closed the shed that housed a small generator. “About six, but others come and go. Since I’ve been here, the most we’ve had is twenty-one.”
“Twenty-one? Where the fuck do you all sleep? Outside?”
Kim shrugged. “Sometimes, least we did over the summer. These days I sleep with the apples.”
“Eh?”
“We sleep in the trees, Jas. Look.”
I felt like a right knob when I finally saw the stunning gypsy trailers nestled in the vast orchard at the back of what I was beginning to realise was some kind of commune. There were four of them in total, spaced far enough apart to ensure pretty good privacy, and they were just about the most wonderful things I’d ever seen.
“Wow. Those caravans are gorgeous. Which one’s yours?”
“That one.” Kim pointed to the most secluded trailer, beautifully painted and named—if the hand-carved sign nailed to the door was accurate—Kingfisher Cabin. “It’s got its own shower and toilet, a log burner, and a little bit of lekky when I need it. Wanna see inside? There’s an extension and a deck out the back.”
“Fuck yeah.” I followed Kim through the orchard and up the wooden steps of the decking that surrounded his trailer. He opened the door and my pulse quickened. We hadn’t made it out of the gig—a public space—without screwing each other’s brains out, and the current still simmering between us was so strong I was slightly terrified.
But it was impossible to feel anything but utterly at home as I stepped into the cosy trailer. Rustic and warmed by the deeply coloured rugs and throws that covered every surface, it was exactly as I’d expected it to be. I could see him everywhere—on the low squishy couch, at the beautiful wooden table. Stretched out in front of the log burner, naked, and—
“Jas?”
Kim touched my arm. I jumped. “Sorry, what?”
“I said, ‘Are you hungry?’ I’ve got curry and some random veg bits from the garden.”
My stomach answered for me, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since a bowl of cereal at arse o’clock the previous night . . . well, this morning, technically. As Kim moved to the trailer’s tiny kitchen area and took the lid off a couple of pans, the idea of not eating whatever he was cooking seemed preposterous.
“Curry and some random veg bits”turned out to be lamb madras, and an amazing cauliflower dhanzak I couldn’t stop eating. “Wow. This is amazing.”
Kim shrugged. “Not too hot, is it? I’m a bit of a spice freak.”
“It’s perfect. I spent my gap year travelling around India, and I’ve not had a curry as good as this since.”
“Really?” Kim’s eyes lit up in a way that made him appear suddenly younger. “I’d love to go to India . . . Thailand too. Can’t see it happening, though. Too old for that shit now.”
“Bollocks. You can’t be that much older than me.”
“Who says I’m older than you?” Kim’s lips turned up in a grin.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and regarded him in the twinkly light of the lantern-lit trailer, but his face revealed little certainty about his age. His eyes held a wisdom that led me to believe he’d a few years on me, but I wasn’t so sure now. “I’m thirty-one.”
“So am I.”
