‘You don’t seem fine.’
‘I am.’
‘You sure you don’t want to talk about it?’
‘No!’ Sarah turned back to her dirty dishes, but not before she’d registered the look of hurt on Fran’s face. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled into her soapy water.
The rest of the day held a veiled tension. Fran made her best attempt at cheeriness, but there was distrust in her voice, her eyes darting back and forth to Sarah as though she were a feral dog who could bite at any moment.
As the day drew to a close, Sarah rushed from the café, keen to escape the atmosphere she had created. In her bag were leftovers from the café; a sausage roll, cheese and pickle sandwiches and a slice of fruit cake. Hattie made sure all the staff ate a hot meal during their lunch break, then shared out leftovers between the staff at the end of the day.
There were still plenty of walkers and mountain bikers hanging about, so Sarah chose a path that rose from the valley, guarded on either side by rows of pine trees. She stopped halfway up to catch her breath, congratulating herself on the improvement. The first time she’d attempted the path, she hadn’t been able to make it halfway before thinking she was dying and panting back the way she had come.
Sweat prickled her skin, but rather than the heat of embarrassment, it was from achievement. She had pushed her unfit body through the pain barrier, ignoring the voice in her head who said she couldn’t do it. She was growing fitter with each day, and the thought made her smile.
The smile disappeared as she remembered the way she had snapped at Fran. Why did she have to do it? Fran was only trying to be a good friend. Without her, Sarah would be isolated from all the other staff. Hattie, who seemed incapable of hating anyone, seemed wary around Sarah, Felix was still ignoring her, and the Saturday girls didn’t know she existed.
At the top of the hill, Sarah turned to admire the view. Somehow, the forest was seeping into her bones, pulling her into a world of peace and beauty that was difficult to ignore. She sat down on a clump of grass, looking out at the valley spread before her. So far she had stuck close to the café, too unsure of herself to venture beyond its gaze. Even within the narrow confines she’d set herself, the view was ever changing. Trees were bursting with new life, leaves appearing in neon-green, banks carpeted by delicate yellow and white flowers.
‘Just wait for bluebell season,’ Fran had said, when Sarah mentioned her walks. ‘You’ve seen nothing like it.’
Sarah pulled out her food and looked around her. Would she still be here when the bluebells came? Would she be here when the leaves turned from green to burnt orange, or when they dropped to the floor, creating a crunching carpet under foot? She pushed the thoughts away.Take one day at a time, she told herself.And don’t forget to apologise again to Fran.
Chapter 24
Duringherfirstfewweeks living and working in the woods, Sarah dreaded Mondays. Too unfit to tackle anything but the easiest paths, she’d whiled away lonely hours in her tipi, watching the minutes tick by with painful lethargy. Four weeks in, and she looked forward to her day off. During the previous week, Sarah had forced herself to venture further into the woods, discovering new vistas, pretty clearings, and even spots she could swim should the weather ever be warm enough. By the time her fifth Monday morning rolled round, Sarah had highlighted paths to explore on her map, and had borrowed aguide to forest plantsfrom the café ready to learn more about her surroundings.
Several times Hattie had offered to drive her into Bodmin for supplies, but each time Sarah turned her down. Soon, she would need to accept the offer of a lift. She’d need to replenish some of her toiletries and buy a few more T-shirts to prepare for the warmer weather.
Sarah wasn’t looking forward to leaving the woods. As much as she’d hated them when she first arrived, the trees acted like a cocoon, an alternate reality where she could hide from the real world. In her tipi, or out on the forest trails, she could pretend her parents were still living together in her old house. She could pretend she was on holiday, or taking a short career break before returning to the real world.
The trees were becoming as familiar as friends. Although she’d never admit it to anyone, sometimes she spoke to them, telling them about her day, about her latest creation in the kitchen, or what she’d had for lunch. Surrounded by nature, the loneliness which haunted her waking hours subsided. As her heart rate increased with the gradient of a path, a fleeting feeling would pass through her. Was it happiness?
As the sun rose on her fifth Monday in the woods, Sarah pulled on her backpack and let herself out of the tipi. Telling herself the early start had everything to do with pastel skies, and nothing to do with avoiding Felix, Sarah made a quick detour to the compost toilet, before setting off through the undergrowth.
The morning air held a chill, but scrabbling up animal tracks made up for it. By the time Sarah reached a small clearing, her skin was sticky, and she removed her jumper and spread it across the ground to sit on. She pulled a savoury muffin from her cool bag, enjoying every bite all the more for having baked it herself. Any tension between her and Fran had dissipated, and as the weeks wore on, they were making a formidable team. Sarah worried that teaching her the tricks of the trade was giving Fran too much extra work, but she said she enjoyed it, and seemed offended when Sarah suggested they limit the lessons to every other day.
The days in the café were so busy with so little spare time, Fran had taken to staying behind an hour after each shift to teach Sarah a new recipe. Sarah was grateful, not just for the skills she was learning, but for the way her lessons shortened the long evenings alone.
With Felix showing no sign of thawing towards her, Sarah developed a routine which meant she spent as little time at the campsite as possible. It would be seven before she and Fran finished in the kitchen. After waving Fran off, Sarah took whatever she had made that evening out into the woods. It didn’t matter if it was raining; the trees provided enough cover so long as she found the right spot. Once she finished her food, she’d either lie down and read, or sit staring at the view, watching the tree branches as they danced in the wind.
After four hours hiking, Sarah descended a steep track, longing to bathe her tired feet in the shallow river which hugged the valley floor. When she reached the bridge, she stopped short. Felix stood leaning against a wooden fence, gazing down at the river.
Before Sarah had the chance to turn back the way she came, Felix turned his head and their eyes met. He gave an awkward wave. There was no way she could turn around now. Sarah scrambled down the last few metres of hill.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Sarah as she walked onto the bridge.
‘I heard you go out this morning and thought I’d come and find you. It’s about time we had a chat. I didn’t expect to be waiting so long. How far did you get?’
Sarah looked behind her, secretly marvelling at how far she had walked. ‘Oh, not far, just a stroll.’
‘It must have been quite the stroll,’ said Felix, following Sarah’s gaze to the line of trees perched on a far-off hill. ‘So you’re enjoying the forest now, are you?’
‘I never said I wasn’t.’
Felix laughed. ‘You know what you remind me of?’
‘Enlighten me.’
