“Hi, honey. It’s good to see you again. Thanks for the makeup you sent, you really didn’t have to.”
Summer waves her off, looking around. “I can’t believe how many people are here.”
Me neither. “What’s happening?” I ask Isla hoarsely.
She shrugs. “Posted in the village WhatsApp group that you needed a hand at the farm, and half the town showed up,” she says. She starts ticking off her fingers. “Dr Kenzie’s been keeping an eye on the sheep. The allotment club has been doing your vegetables. Lewis brought his sons over. They already cleared out that elm, and now they’re prepping to fix the barn. And of course, everyone brought their kids, who are just being nuisances, to be honest.” She pulls a face. “A lot of them just learned about Dolly the sheep in science class. Unfortunate timing. Don’t freak if you find some weird test-tube shit in your fridge.” She keeps going, telling me who’s been milking the cow and feeding the chickens and checking on the orchard.
I interrupt her. “And they all just…came to help?”
She gives me a pitying look. “Aye, Alec. They all came. Like everyone has been offering to do foryears. Because that’s what people do up here, you sad, lonely man.” She pats my shoulder and then smiles when a pink-haired girl approaches us. “Oh, Emmy, over here. Summer, this is my fiancée. Em, this is the English girl I told you about. The one who attacked me with something called akabuki brush.”
“Guilty,” Summer says, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you. You two look so good together!”
Emmy accepts Summer’s hug. “I have to thank you for whatever you did to Isla. She’s been so confident recently. I’ve been trying to convince her to do a boudoir photoshoot for months,and she always said no.” She gives Isla a sly look. “This past week, I couldn’t get her away from the camera.”
Isla goes bright red. “Em! She doesn’t want to know about that.”
“Oh,” Summer says wickedly, “but I think I do?—”
Suddenly, a streak of white barrels out of the open farmhouse door and flies at Summer, knocking her over. Summer lands on her behind with anoofas Crumpet jumps into her lap,bleating ecstatically. “Crumpet!” Summer gathers her up, letting Crumpet nuzzle her cheeks and tangle her hooves in her hair. “I missed you so much. I did, I missed you!”
“Seriously?Crumpet?” Isla asks me incredulously. I don’t respond, watching Summer play with the lamb. My throat feels thick.
“It’s good to have you back,” Isla tells Summer. “These men have been pure useless since you left. Hey, when are you gonna tell the rest of the village you’re dating them?Pleasedo it at the pub. The oldies are going to lose their minds. It’ll be the highlight of my year.”
Summer’s smile dims a few degrees. “Oh, actually, I’m not staying,” she says. “I’m just here to spread awareness of the survey online.”
Isla pauses. “Oh, I see.” I avoid her narrow gaze.
Summer stands, holding Crumpet to her chest. “We should actually get started. We need to get photos taken and posted ASAP. What have you done so far?”
I open my mouth, but Isla cuts me off. “Terrible, terrible clipart posters,” she says. “Looks like something a kid would do in Microsoft. But worse, ’cause he didn’t even do the wiggly rainbow WordArt.”
I sigh, pulling out my phone to show Summer. “I set up a Picturegram account. We weren’t able to get any real traction.”
She looks politely at the few bland landscape shots on my feed. “It is so good you tried,” she says encouragingly. “Hey, do you mind if I, like, wipe it completely and start you a totally new account? The algorithm will have decided that you’re really boring.”
“Go ahead,” I say roughly. She sets Crumpet down, takes my phone, and starts tapping at it. The lamb immediately plops down on Summer’s shoe, like she’s claiming her.
“Hey!” Isla calls to someone behind me. “Elliot, put the flask away. This isn’t happy hour.” She jogs off.
I stand still as people move and talk and laugh around me. For once, I have no idea what to do. Emotion is rising up in my chest. “I, ah…I’ll take the bags inside,” I mutter. I need to get away from all of these people.
When I get inside the farmhouse, I see that someone has tidied up. The fliers have been neatly piled on the kitchen table. The dishes in the sink have been washed. The floor’s been hoovered, and there’s a vase of bluebells on the coffee table. I stumble to the guest room, feeling like I’m in a dream, and sit down heavily on the bed. I close my eyes and listen to the sound of half of Dalbrae outside the window.
I don’t know how to process this.
I thought I knew how the world worked. My whole life, my father expected me to handle everything, no matter how much I struggled under the pressure.
You don’t get to ask for help when you’re the owner, son.
You can’t rely on anyone but yourself.
Everything that happens on this farm is your responsibility.
I never questioned it. I genuinely believed he was right. But now there are fifty-odd people outside, helping to hammer together everything I’ve broken.
I can’t help but wonder what else I’ve been wrong about.
