Picnic prepared, we grabbed thick blankets from the lounge and left the warmth of the Willow behind, heading out into the gardens. We walked side by side down the cobbled path, past our usual smoking spot, venturing deeper than we ever had before.
Eventually, we hit a wall that separated the Willow from the outside world, its stone completely swallowed by thick ivy.
“Strange-looking lake,” I muttered, still a little grumpy about being outside instead of tucked up in bed.
Iggy rolled his eyes and held out the bulging tote bag. I took it without comment, watching as he stepped closer to the wall and plunged his hands into the leafy curtain. He rummaged around for a moment, then withdrew his arms and shuffled a few steps to the right. He tried again. Then again.
Finally, he let out a happy yelp.
“C’mere!”
When I joined him, Iggy pulled the ivy aside to reveal a hole in the wall, just big enough for someone to squeeze through if they ducked low enough.
My eyes widened. “The fuck? How’d you find this?”
Iggy grinned.
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
He giggled as I scoffed, then ducked through the gap and vanished. I followed, and when I straightened on the other side, I couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped out.
It was still dark, but the sky had softened to a pale blue, and the low light did nothing to dull the explosion of colour ahead of us. A field of wildflowers stretched as far as I could see, and in the distance, a dark line of trees hinted at woods beyond. The Willow’s gardens were beautiful in their pristine way, but after two months of the same sights, this felt like stepping into another world.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Iggy bumped my shoulder and set off through the flowers, the ground crunching beneath his feet.
“Yeah,” I said, following him.
“I found it a few weeks ago,” he admitted. “Skipped an afternoon dance session. Didn’t expect this much colour in February.”
“Proof there’s life outside the Willow, I guess.”
Iggy laughed, the sound light and bright against the cold air. “We’ll be re-entering the real world ourselves soon.”
My breath caught. He was right. We’d arrived only days apart and were almost at the end of our twelve-week programme. Soon, we’d be expected to walk back through those grand front doors and into our lives again. Clean. Sober. Whether we stayed that way was entirely up to us.
The rest of the walk passed in silence. The ground slopeddownward, and soon I heard water lapping softly in the breeze. The wildflowers thinned, revealing the lake Iggy had promised. Small—a puddle compared to Lake Michigan—but a lake all the same.
Iggy took one of the blankets from me, snapped it once, and spread it over the grass. Satisfied, he sat and patted the space beside him. I set the tote bag down, which he immediately attacked like a pink-haired raccoon, and lowered myself onto the blanket.
He poured steaming hot chocolate into the thermos lid, inhaled deeply, and hummed. Then he took a big gulp and winced.
“Fuck, that’s still really hot.”
I chuckled, taking it from him and sipping more carefully. “It’s been, what, twenty minutes since I made it?”
“Yeah, well,” he said, reaching for it again. “I didn’t expect the thermos to work that well.”
The sky was lightening now, bands of yellow and orange bleeding into pinks and purples, fading finally into soft blue as the sun erased the last of the night.
“Perfect timing,” Iggy announced, removing his mittens and opening the box of Jaffa Cakes.
He pressed one to my lips. I opened my mouth, and he shoved it in. The chocolate top melted instantly against the roof of my mouth, the cake softening against my tongue before the sharp burst of orange jelly cut through.
I held out my hand for another before I’d even swallowed. He grinned and obliged.
I could see why he loved them. Sweet, but not too much. I was quietly grateful they didn’t exist back home. If they did, I’d have to live at the gym. Iggy, on the other hand, seemed to runon pure chaos and good genes, since he was still just as skinny as when he’d arrived.
