Keren laughed. “You started it! You’re the one who suggested Jonny show Robyn round town. You have no one to blame but yourself for the fact that they’re sitting there, nice and cosy and probably talking about where he’s going to take her out. This, my lovely, was all your idea. If he asks you to babysit while they go on a date, what will you say?”
Rayah groaned. “I’ll tell him to ask you because you need the practice at looking after grown children. I need another beer. Or maybe a shot. Tequila. Tequila is a good idea.”
“Tequila is never a good idea.” Keren eyed her. “You know this. Remember the two days you lost when it was your birthday? And how you had to buy a new duvet?”
Rayah stood up, trying not to look at Jonny and Robyn who were deep in conversation. “One shot and then I’ll burn it off dancing. Like I said the other night, it’s time to move on. I can’t keep mooning over a man who still thinks I wear my hair in pigtails.”
“Only in his fantasies.” It was muttered quietly enough that Rayah didn’t really hear. Plus, she was too busy making her way to the packed temporary bar.
After a harvest, it was tradition for the farmer to treat the workers to food and drink as a thank you for the graft they’d put in. Because Jake was now in charge, the treat had become a huge hoe-down in the largest barn that wasn’t used over the winter period except for storage for feed. While the fields had been emptied and the last of the fruit collected from the orchards, a group had set the barn up with hay across the floor and bales to sit, a make-shift bar and large pans containing chilli and potato hash. By the end of the night, Rayah knew there would be several people asleep or unconscious in the barn and in the morning they’d likely be woken with cold water hosed on to them.
She wasn’t going to be joining them.
The tequila tasted better than it should, so she took a second shot, putting Keren’s look of disapproval down to jealousy because she could drink, and hit the make-shift dancefloor.
Severton was not home of the Greatest Dancer. Most residents grew up on a combination of old nineties’ indie, rock and the odd pop song, none of which induced anything near stylised movement.
Rayah found a group to move with, trying not to watch Jonny, who was still talking to Robyn. She tried not to think about him, instead focusing on the bodies surrounding her, the laughter, the occasional joke and the odd hand that grazed her as they haphazardly shifted to the vague rhythm of the music.
A couple of colleagues from her school were there, a few parents, children out of the way in a smaller barn where some kind souls had offered to do chaperoning duty. As a rule, the kids were okay at these things. They were given freedom to run and climb, play hide and seek in the bales of hay and behind the animal feed that was stored there. It was idyllic. Rayah remembered the same nights when she, Jake, her cousins and Jonny had been kids. And the day when she’d broken her arm.
It had been Jonny who’d administered crude first aid, having half an idea of how to hold it in place in a sling while Jake was busy heaving behind a tree, having caught sight of an exposed bit of bone. Not his finest hour.
Rayah left the dance floor, thirsty and overly sober. She headed towards the bar, feeling the need for something refreshing and not tequila – even she knew to quit while she was ahead. A tall man with fair hair was standing next to one of the hay bales that demarcated the bar. She’d seen him around a few times, mainly because he was hard to miss, being so tall and wide to boot. His accent wasn’t local, not just to Severton, but to the Peak District area in general. There was a twinge of American – she had no idea which region – and she figured he was the man Jonny had mentioned had worked over in the States, specialising in the wild fires that were bad over there.
“Enjoying the local traditions?” She wasn’t one to leave a newcomer standing by themselves, she didn’t have it in her.
He gave her a slow smile. “Sure. It’s a bit like where I’ve come from.”
“Where’s that?”
“California.”
“Is it really like this back there?”
His grin was wicked.
She smiled back. He was fun. Potentially very fun.
“I’m Rayah Maynard. I teach school here. If I’m right, you’re the new firefighter.” She held out her hand.
He took it, shaking just as her cousins would’ve done, no simpering to kiss it.
“Will Curry and you’re right. I’ve just started here. You know Jonny, don’t you?” His eyes were appraising.
Rayah nodded. “Childhood friend. I’m one of the army who helps out with his kids. Still trying to repay him for the amount of times he helped me out of scrapes when we were kids.”
“He’s mentioned that.” There was a chuckle, deep and rich. “Said he fears whenever you and his daughter are off on an adventure.”
For a second, Rayah felt a wave of mortification, fear flying through her at the thought that Jonny thought she was irresponsible with his daughter. Then Will started to laugh.
“He wasn’t being serious. I think he really appreciates that she has a strong female under the age of sixty in her life. What can I get you to drink, Rayah Maynard?”
“Just a beer. Although you do realise it’s a free bar?”
Will gave that little chuckle again. “Free in the sense you don’t have to pay, but not in the sense that most people here brought a contribution? How about you tell me what I need to know regarding this place? You being the original farmer’s girl and all that.”
Rayah laughed, hearing the edge to his voice that told her he knew she was far more than a farmer’s girl. “Let’s get out of the way before the dancers come for refreshments and I’ll bring you up to speed.”
