Page 20 of The Wishing Tree Beside the Shor
‘They’re not even sure it’s all one tree. People think it might’ve combined with other smaller sycamores – probably the ones around it that grew from its own seeds in the first few years of its life, and they melded together as one and that’s why the trunk splits off like this. Three hundred years ago, it might’ve been seven or eight different trees.’ He’s looking up at the huge leaves in admiration as he speaks. ‘And where else in the world are you going to find a view like that?’
I shift around to face out to sea because I’ve been so focused on Ryan that I’ve forgotten about the view. The branches are high enough above us that the view is unobstructed and the Bristol Channel is spread out in front of me. So clear and for so many miles that I’m surprised I can’t see Devon on the horizon. The water is purple under the night sky, reflecting the twinkling of a million stars from above, and it’s absolutely motionless. There isn’t a breath of wind to disturb the water’s surface.
I hear the rustle behind me as Ryan lets the branch go and the thud of his boots against the wood as he sits and pulls the blanket around.
It’s so peaceful. Even the sheep has stopped snoring so the only sound is the gentle lap of the waves below. The tide has reached its highest point and is retreating down the beach, leaving darkened damp sand behind.
‘Bit different to your usual views, huh?’
Views. I remember them. I remember being really taken with the view across the Thames when I started my job, but now … I can’t remember the last time I had a chance to look out a window. I’m always rushing from one thing to the next. I never have time to stop and stare for a few moments.
I turn around to see he’s settled back. He’s still holding his plastic cup of tea, but he’s reclining half-upright against the junction where one of the trunks splits away and the blanket is pulled over his legs. He pats the spot next to him and smiles when he catches my eyes.
It’s a nice idea, and it’s so serene up here that it would be easy to crawl across and forget everything that’s happened between us and snuggle up beside Ryan, but I shake my head and cross my legs under me.
He throws me the other end of the furry fleece blanket and I drape it over my crossed legs and lean forward with my elbows on my knees and both hands wrapped around the plastic cup.
‘I guess we could say you’re in bed with me.’
‘My teenage self can die happy,’ I say, feeling braver than I could ever have been all those years ago.
He looks like he’s about to say something, and I wonder if my inadvertent reminder of the teenager who had a crush on him is going to prompt him to say something about the kiss. Even though I’d like to never think about it again, I can’t work out if he’s genuinely forgotten it or if he’s just being polite by not mentioning it, and it’s got to the point where I want to know one way or the other. He couldn’t have forgotten it, could he? You don’tforgetyour friend throwing herself at you underneath the branches of this very tree.
He smiles at me. Or maybe you do.
‘I heard the company you moved to went under …’ he says, and I can feel his eyes burning into mine.
‘Yeah. About a year later. But you knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?’
Ryan had told me not to go. When I left Sullivan’s Seeds, it was for one of those “too good to be true” opportunities that did, indeed, turn out to be exactly that. A London-based plant and seed company who’d heard about my success at Sullivan’s Seeds and wanted me to work for them as a plant finder. A job that would involve moving to London and travelling – my two biggest dreams in life. I was going to be responsible for finding new and unusual plants from across Europe, testing them for UK suitability, and working with a team of scientists to crossbreed them into hybrid versions that would suit the UK climate. Ryan tried to talk me out of it. He thought there was something dodgy about the company, and it turned out he was right. But I knew I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t take the opportunity. I reasoned that even if it fell through, I’d have got out of Lemmon Cove – and staying here, never managing to escape this tiny coastal village, was my greatest fear.
He gives me a sad smile. ‘I nearly phoned to say your old job was waiting for you a hundred times, but then I thought it might look like an “I told you so” and it wasn’t intended like that. I thought about you all the time.’
What would’ve happened if hehadoffered me my old job back? Would I have taken it? I’d been homesick as all hell. I hated London. It was nothing like the dream city I’d always imagined. It was crowded, stinky, noisy, and expensive. The world wasnotat my feet while I sang songs from musicals and lots of friendly strangers joined in as I skipped along golden-paved streets. Instead I huddled into myself while I dodged crowds and felt guilty for not helping homeless people because I didn’t have enough to get by myself.
‘But it’s a good job I didn’t because you clearly found your calling as a chef.’
I’m so lost in the past that it takes my brain a few moments to catch up to what he means. ‘Oh! Yes, right. That.’
‘Did you go to culinary school or something?’
Oh God, am I supposed to have gone to culinary school? ‘No. Er, just learnt as I went. Like an apprenticeship!’
‘Because you didn’t used to be able to cook a Pot Noodle, it must’ve been quite a discovery to realise you could cook. Like Harry Potter getting his Hogwarts letter and discovering he’d been a wizard all along.’
‘Oh yeah, there were owls delivering letters and everything.’
We smile at each other, and I have an overwhelming feeling that he knows something’s going on. I was the worst cook in the universe. Iamthe worst. Baaabra Streisand could cook a better meal than I can. And Ihadto mention the fancy restaurant that caters for celebrities, didn’t I? Only the most dis-believable place in the country for me to work.
‘What happened to Sullivan’s Seeds, Ry?’ I ask, mainly to stop him thinking about my cooking ability.
‘In a word – cucurbit poisoning.’ He thinks for a moment. ‘Technically two words.’
‘Is that when the level of cucurbitacin is too high and makes squashes inedible?’
He drops his head into his hand and nods. ‘Yep. And you don’t know there’s anything wrong with the produce until you’ve eaten it.’
My face screws up in sympathy. ‘You poisoned people?’
