He’s silent for so long that I start to think he didn’t hear the question.
‘I used to work in…’ There’s silence again, and I can see his face shifting as he tries to come up with the right words. ‘…a law-adjacent field.’
‘What’s a law-adjacent field?’ I ask, picturing a meadow next to a solicitor’s office, which isdefinitelynot what he meant.
The question hangs between us and his cheerful expression falters, and he looks around like he’s searching for an excuse to bolt.
‘Come on, Reece,’ I say gently. ‘I’ve trusted you with the worst thing I’ve ever done. You can at least explain what a “law-adjacent field” is.’
When he still doesn’t answer, I knock my arm softly against his good leg. ‘I won’t tell a soul, I promise, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘It’s not, it’s… Well, yeah, that too.’ He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair, scruffing it up and not bothering to smooth it down again. ‘I used to be a barrister.’
‘A barrister…’ I repeat, convinced I’ve misheard. ‘One of those solicitor-types who represent people in court? In the wigs and the gowns and things?You?’
He nods, and if he didn’t look so serious, I’d be certain he was winding me up. He seems like thelastperson who could ever do such a sombre job, let alone a job that’s such a world away from what he does now.
‘How does one go from being a barrister to being a builder?’ I ask cautiously, certain that he’s going to burst into his usual laughter at any moment and reveal he’s been pulling my leg all along.
‘I needed a change.’
‘Change of career?’
‘More like a change of life.’ He says it quietly and with a sadness in his eyes that he can’t hide.
I’m so surprised that I take a swig of my tea without thinking about it and then gag when I remember it went cold ages ago. My thoughts go to the first night again, and his words about everyone here being lost or running away. When he said he was a bit of both, I thought it was just part of his jovial personality, but now I get the sense that his brightness is covering something much darker, and there are a lot of layers behind that incessant smile.
I also get the sense that hereallydoesn’t want to talk about it.
We lapse into a comfortable silence, and I’m surprised that he hasn’t made any move to leave before I have a chance to ask any more questions, and it makes me think about his comment this morning about being isolated. He seems lonely. Sequestered away up here, not wanting anyone to gossip about him, but maybe missing a bit of company and community too?
Outside, the sun is setting over the Yorkshire hills, painting everything in a yellow light, and inside this small campervan, for the first time in days, a weight has been lifted. With Reece’s unexpectedly expert advice, I feel like the police might not be breathing down my neck after all, and as much as I know he doesn’t want to talk about it, it brings me back to the difference between working in law and working as a builder, and what Reeceisn’ttelling me.
‘How long have you been doing building work?’ I ask, trying to wheedle my way into understanding thevastjump between career paths. Maybe it explains why every time I go up to the pub, I catch him mid-disaster.
He tilts his head to the side and catches my eyes. ‘So what kind of café is a Nostalgia Café?’
I snort at the way he doesn’t even try to be less obvious. ‘You know, Lettie said earlier that you clam up, and I stuck up for you and assured her you were an open book. Now I see why she’s saying that.’
‘I’m not clamming up.’ He gives me a wink. ‘I’m changing the subject. There’s a difference.’
‘I can’t fault your directness,’ I say, even though it intrigues me even more. The fact he’s so determined not to talk about it makes it more obvious that there’ssomethingto talk about, but if I continue pushing, hewillget up and go, and I like him being here.
‘It was going to be the kind of café that makes you remember being seven years old and thinking the world was full of magic just waiting to be found. A way of tapping into the feeling I got when I came here on family holidays. Afternoon tea with mismatched vintage china, homemade cakes that taste like the ones your gran used to make, food we used to love when we were little, that sort of thing. Food that reminds you of being safe and happy, when the answer to all of life’s problems could be solved by slices of squidgy malt loaf with lashings of butter.’
‘And what now? Surely you haven’t given up on the idea?’
I almost laugh at the thought. ‘I couldn’t run an entire café on my own. I don’t have a head for business like that – Vickie was going to do the businessy side, I was going to do the cooking side. I wouldn’t know where to start, and apart from that, we’d been saving formonthsto rent the shop and buy everything we needed to start the business. I have nothing left to start again, and I’m living in a stolen campervan with no idea what to do about it. I couldn’t even get a job when my living situation is so temporary.’
Just thinking about it makes my heart start racing again, and I feel like my great escape has trapped me in a completely different way. Am I going to stay in Yorkshire or go back to Sevenoaks? If I can’t even drive the campervan, what do I do? Call Jared and get him to come all this way and collect it? And then what? I’ll still have nowhere to live and no income.
‘A conundrum.’ Reece forms a triangle with his hands and taps his fingers together.
‘You make it sound like a good thing.’
‘Anything can be a good thing with the right spin on it.’
‘I fail to see how—’ I was going to say thatnothinggood could come out of any of this, but the grin on his face makes me stop. Something goodhascome out of this, and I’m looking at it.
