“What! What for?”
“Well, I can’t drive a tractor.”
“I wouldn’t worry about not having a special tractor license, Jones—this is Ormer. Haven’t you seen the licensing prices?”
Pointed to the sign that had once lived stuck inside the farm shop window, now pinned to our community noticeboard. Toby’s idea, actually—sweet, conscientious Toby, who still has no idea he’s going to be a father.
The sign reads:
GET YOUR LICENSES FOR 2025 NOW.
Available in the Constable’s Office 2 p.m.–4 p.m. Tues and Weds.
Carriage Driving: £12
Tractor: £15
Firearms/shotgun: £5
Whenever I see it, it reminds me how this island looked when I first arrived on the Rue in the dust and sunshine. A tiny Wild West.
“I don’t actually have a driving license at all, though,” Jones said sheepishly.
“You don’t drive!”
He shook his head.
“I wonder whether Jerry would ask.”
“You’d hope.”
“But…”
“Yeah. Probably not.”
We grinned at each other. Uh-oh, prolonged eye contact. Absolutely deadly. I looked away instantly, but he’d already made me go hot again. Was thinking about the way he’d felt on top of me, the hungry kisses against my neck, my jaw…
“I’m making us stew tomorrow,” he said, with a decisive nod. “Lots of vegetables. Maybe some cavolo nero. You look a bit peaky.You need to make sure you’re getting enough iron, and since you don’t eat meat…”
Am slightly surprised—not by the comment about iron, because you get this about twice a week if you’re a vegetarian, but by Jones’s sudden interest in my diet. Cannot decide if this is oddly paternalistic or quite sexy. Probably a highly problematic combination of both.
“Have you had your booking appointment with a midwife yet?” Marly asked me when I arrived at the farmhouse to see Red a few hours later.
Was still quite grumpy. Has been that sort of day. Cannot seem to win: am either getting flak from Bri for being insufficiently pregnant or from Marly for being pregnant and not doing enough about it.Hatethis lie. Want to be up at the B&B checking on Red as much as I can, but that means being around Marly and Rosie, who both keep mothering me and my painfully nonexistent baby—Marly has obviously shared with her wife, which I do get, but only makes this harder. Rosie and I arefriends, and now I’m lying to her as well.Morelying.
Though, since finding that bizarre list of Charlie Joneses, am pretty sure she’s lying tomeabout something, too. And I’ve still got no plausible explanation as to what.
When did everything get so messy? It’s all lies and secrets and people pretending to be things they’re not. Where’s my beautifully simple new life gone??
From:Charlie Jones
To:Charlie Jones
Subject:Day fifty-eight sober
Pregnant.Pregnant.
It’s been almost a week since I found out, and I’m really not sure I’m any closer to processing this. Meanwhile harvest festival is occupying every waking thought that isn’t dedicated to Charlie, because she has the most ambitious plans for this barn dance, and I have become a person who cannot say no to her. So anyway, I’m off to try and catch a donkey now.
