And then he was gone.
Chapter Twenty Seven
‘I made a mistake,’ Josh repeated, his words ricocheting among the tall trees and dragging me back to the present. ‘I said something that wasn’t true because I was stupid and petty and scared of losing your friendship.’
‘So you did the one thing that was practicallyguaranteedto make that happen? That row was savage, Josh. The things we said ...’
Josh ran his hand through his hair, clearly exasperated that I wasn’t dropping the topic the way he wanted me to.
‘I don’t remember half of what was said back then. It was all a long time ago. What Idoknow is that telling someone you love them when you don’t mean it and they’re about to marry someone else is a sure-fire way to ruin a friendship. And that’s what I’m sorry for.’
He lifted his head and there was a rueful look in his eyes.
‘I talked a lot of shit back then. I really thought you’d have forgotten it all by now.’
I thought of all the middle-of-the-night sleepless moments when his words had played like a recording on repeat in my head. I shook my head sadly.
‘I knew from the outset Adam was the right man for you. He was ready to be a husband, a partner for life. He was ready to be a dad, and we both know that’s something I never wanted.’ He gave a humourless laugh. ‘That at least hasn’t changed.’
It felt like a vault door was finally opening up, when suddenly a sound I hadn’t heard for three days echoed in the clearing. My mobile phone had just pinged back to life. My hand dove into the back pocket of my jeans and I pulled it out. Sure enough, in the top corner of the screen there was finally a symbol.
‘We’re back online!’ I cried, so delighted you’d be forgiven for thinking I’d personally invented the internet.
‘That’s great,’ Josh said, although he didn’t look anywhere near as pleased as I was.
Although I couldn’t hide the excitement that tiny sound had ignited, I was sorry it had come when it did, interrupting one of the most illuminating conversations we’d had since my arrival.
I clicked into my messages. There were a couple from Mum and Dad, and several from Raegan. But before I could open any of them the signal vanished.
‘Damn. We’ve lost it again.’
‘It’ll come back,’ Josh said, sounding unbothered. ‘They’re probably still fixing the mast.’
I held out my phone as though he needed to view it for evidence. ‘But I had signal. It was right there.’ I sounded as crushed as I felt.
‘The trees probably aren’t helping,’ he explained, ‘and we’re in a bit of a hollow here. You need height to pick up the signal when it’s this weak,’ he said, his eyes going skyward.
A sudden shiver went through me. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting scaling one of these pines, because my tree-climbing days are most definitely behind me. Yours too, I hope.’
Josh seemed to be wrestling with a decision, but with a resigned sigh he made up his mind. ‘There might be a solution, but it’s about a fifteen-minute hike from here over rougher terrain.’
‘I could do it ... with your help,’ I said, surprised how ready I was to trust him again. We really had come a very long way in a few short days.
‘Okay,’ he said, holding out his hand. Without hesitation I placed my own within it. Through the wool of our gloves his fingers briefly squeezed mine in the way they used to in another lifetime. I squeezed back.
The forest was growing denser, the pine trees giving way to mighty behemoth oaks and sky-scraping sycamores.
‘Not much further,’ Josh said. It was colder here in the thickest part of the forest where the wintery rays of sunlight were unable to penetrate. I snuggled deeper into Adam’s coat and was rewarded with a sudden and unexpected draught of his aftershave. It felt like he was sending me a message, but I had no idea if it was encouraging me onwards or urging me to retreat.
‘Here we are,’ Josh announced, directing the comment over his left shoulder, for the path had narrowed so much we were now having to walk in single file. Fletcher, who’d dashed on ahead, darted back through the trees, bouncing delightedly between us.
Josh stepped to one side, and I saw we had reached yet another clearing, although compared to the previous ones, this was no more than a large gap in the trees. It was shadowy here, with the ring of oaks blocking out the daylight. At first glance all I noticed were the stumps of several trees, presumably felled by Josh. As my eyes adjusted better to the filtered light, I saw that in the very centre was one enormous tree, its trunk so wide my arms would only havereached halfway around it if I’d been in the mood for a spot of tree hugging. But as my focus sharpened, I saw that encircling the oak was a floating spiral staircase, its treads individually notched into the massive trunk.
My eyes travelled step by step up the staircase until they came to a platform set about six yards above the forest floor, upon which sat a treehouse, so perfect it looked like something out of a fairy tale. There was no disguising my smile as I took in the mini cabin in the sky, with its glazed windows and pitched roof that hung over a narrow wraparound balcony.
‘It’s a treehouse. You built a treehouse,’ I exclaimed in delight, as though he might possibly have forgotten it was here.
‘I did,’ Josh said, his voice a curious mixture of pride and humility.
