‘So come on, what’s it like there?’
‘Good, I think. Everyone seems nice…’
‘What are you not telling me?’
I let out a long sigh and perched myself on the toilet seat. ‘You remember when you turned eighteen and took me to that festival?’
‘I don’t remember as much about it as I probably should… for obvious reasons.’
‘Granted, but do you remember the boy I met?’
‘The one you went stupidly soppy over, then cried about for weeks when we got home?’
‘Yeah, him.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s here. Or, at least I think it’s him. I could be wrong. If it is him, he’s a lot hairier than I remember.’
‘Why don’t you just ask him?’
‘Ask him? Cass, he totally ghosted me. I thought I was falling in love. He’d promised to keep in touch, then on the last day…poof… gone.’
‘Liv, I know your emotions are heightened at the moment, but don’t you think you’re being over dramatic? After all, you knew him for what? Twenty-four hours?’
‘Forty-eight.’
‘Exactly. Don’t let it bother you. Maybe mention it to him, make a joke out of it?’
‘Yeah, maybe. I’d better go in case Bertie wakes up and I’m not there. I’ll call you tomorrow.’
‘No, don’t. Give yourself time to settle in, give yourself some space to think. I’m always here on the end of the phone, but leave it a couple of days, yeah?’
‘OK. Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
I hung up the phone and sat down on the toilet. Cass was right, I’d hardly known Seb, if indeed he was the boy I remembered. And she was also right that I was a mess, and dwelling on irrelevant feelings from over a decade ago would do nothing to help my situation.
With a clump of tissues pocketed as a precaution for my nightly breakdown, I crept back along the corridor to our bedroom. Inside, I found Bertie sprawled face-down on his mattress. Taking care not to wake him, I pulled blankets up over him and crouched beside his bed, watching him sleep.
My life so far may not have amounted to much, but if I achieved nothing else, the beautiful boy in front of me would have made my time on earth worthwhile. Whatever happened with me and Rob, together we’d created Bertie, and nothing andno one could take that away. Somehow we’d have to find a way through together, for our son’s sake, if not our own.
I climbed into bed and checked my phone. Nothing from Rob, not that I expected there to be. I switched off my phone and tried to sleep. After half an hour of tossing and turning, I picked up my book, grateful that Bertie had insisted on keeping the light on.
Flat on my back, I looked up at the ceiling. Brown tide marks stained the once white paint, and at one corner paint was peeling. From what I’d seen of the farmhouse so far, it could do with some money being spent on it before it fell down around their ears.
If only I could afford to give them something for my stay. I knew Cass had handed over an envelope on my behalf, but it couldn’t have contained much, given her own perilous finances. My last thought before finally giving in to sleep was that I’d find Harry first thing the next morning and offer my services in any way I could.
Chapter Fifteen
‘Where is everybody?’ I asked Harry. Beside me Bertie spooned cornflakes into a bowl whilst I waited for my toast to pop up.
‘Andrea and Christine have already left for their walk, Maggie and Stephan rarely surface before nine, Pat never eats breakfast, and Seb always sorts himself out in his cabin. You still all right for your tour of the farm today?’
‘Yes, but I can stay here and help with some chores if that’s more useful?’ I crossed my fingers behind my back.
‘No, you go and get a feel for the place. I prefer people to offer help once they’ve seen the full range of what needs doing.’
