Page 31 of The Wishing Tree Beside the Shor
‘Ry!’ My dad throws his arms around Ryan like he’s a long-lost son.
Cynthia looks miffed at the interruption as Dad and Ryan have a quick catch-up and my heart is warmed by how genuinely pleased they are to see each other. I’d forgotten how much Ryan was like part of the family.
Eventually Ryan excuses himself, holding up the armful of garden tools he’s got with him, and Dad makes a move to follow him, but Cynthia yanks him to the bench and forces him to sit down. Dad finally spots me and waves hello. I wave back, but I’m still not going to rescue him. Cynthia asks Mr Barley to fetch them tea and cake and when he goes to object, she bangs her Zimmer frame on the ground and Mr Barley gets up and scuttles back towards Seaview Heights.
‘Brambles, prepare for death.’ Ryan approaches with his loot of various garden tools – a scythe and machete, a garden fork and spade, a couple of saws, secateurs, and long-handled loppers, and dumps everything in a pile on the ground along with two pairs of gardening gloves.
His arms slide around me from behind and he fumbles to undo the chain clasp. I’m sure he could’ve done it more easily from the front, but there’s something about Ryan’s arms around me that makes every other thought in my brain disappear. All I can concentrate on is the feeling of his solid forearms pressing against my sides, under my ribs, as he unclips the chain, standing so close that I can feel his body heat and his breath stirs my hair, and I get the feeling he’s lingering. The chain loosens a long few seconds before he unhooks it and pulls away.
When I come back to myself, Tonya, Ffion, and Godfrey are watching us with knowing looks. Alys has picked up a scythe and is brandishing it at the brambles.
‘Ooh, I could do with getting some aggression out.’ She swishes the blade at a thin shoot and squeals in surprise when it slices through and falls away.
Ryan takes the scythe carefully out of her hand. ‘How about a cup of tea and some of those cakes Mr Barley’s bringing out? Me and Fee will tackle this.’ He hands the scythe to me and locks the chain back around his own waist.
It’s been a long time since I used a garden instrument of any sort, but the handle fits perfectly into my hand and I give it an experimental slash at the brambles in front of me once Tonya and Alys have escorted Godfrey safely back up the path. It slices through easily and I put it down to pull my gloves on.
‘Sorry, I kind of volunteered you for this. You don’t have to stay; I can manage.’
I test the weight of the scythe in my hand. ‘No worries. I’d like to. It’s been a long time since I did any outdoor work. It’ll be a welcome change.’
‘Good to see your dad,’ Ryan says. I can hear something unsaid behind his words.
‘Yeah. I don’t think he gets out much. And he looked unexpectedly glad to see Cynthia.’ We both look towards the bench where they’re now deep in conversation over tea and homemade butterfly fairy cakes. Dad looks more animated than he has since I arrived. ‘Is she single?’
‘Yeah, her husband died years ago.’ He stops slashing at the brambles and looks over at me with a raised eyebrow. ‘That’s relevant information then?’
For some unknown reason, I blush. It must be the chat with Tonya just now.
‘I don’t know.’ I glance at my dad and Cynthia. ‘It could be.’
We’re both slashing at the brambles, chopping the tangled bushes away and watching them fall to the ground. We’re almost back to back, Ryan’s doing huge sweeping motions and I’m being more careful and cutting the longest parts of the bush away before switching to the secateurs to chop the thicker stems down as far as possible, until I can see the anaemic green of strawberry leaves standing above their crowns, lighter than their usual deep green from the lack of sunlight, but there are berries hanging over from chunky stems.
‘Isn’t nature wonderful?’ I murmur to Ryan as I stand back to look at them.
Under all this debris, strawberry plants are thriving. Even in the shadow of huge bramble bushes, they’re still there, going about their lives like nature intended.
I crouch down and start untangling the brambles from around the plants. They’ve only rooted in sporadic places and the rest of the tangled mess of spiky branches can be easily pulled away and gathered up.
‘You’re going to get scratched.’ Ryan crouches down beside me. ‘Let me help.’
‘I have more sleeve than you do!’ I nod towards the line of his blue vest over his shoulders, and yep, I really shouldn’t have drawn attention to his biceps againordone anything that would get his eyes on me, because I feel him looking up and down my arms too.
Between us, we pull out clumps of scratchy blackberry that snags on everything and take armful after armful across to an ever-growing pile behind the hedge. It’s a while since I did proper physical work, and it feels good. We regularly dug over patches of land when I worked with him, just the two of us, usually with one of his Nineties playlists playing as we sang along to Steps and the Spice Girls, complete with dance moves at any opportunity. Spending time with Ryan was always a conundrum – I was so afraid of making a fool of myself in front of him, and yet I felt totally at ease with him. At ease enough to sing at the top of my voice – always dangerous lest it set off car alarms and send small rodents running for cover – and risk dance moves to Gina G’s “Ooh Aah … Just A Little Bit” in the middle of a muddy field.
He crouches down beside me. ‘Who knew strawberry plants could survive against the odds like that? Do you really think the rest of the land will be the same?’
‘Well, there are plants over here, there, and over there too.’ I wave a hand behind me, towards the part he started cutting down and the general direction of Baaabra Streisand who has disappeared into the bushes again. ‘When the strawberry patch was here, the plants stretched right the way across to that crumbling wall …’ I point to the farmer’s fields that join the patch of land to the right in the distance.
‘We’ll be overrun with strawberries,’ Tonya says, making us both jump. I’d been so focused on Ryan’s proximity that I hadn’t noticed she’d returned.
I reach out and touch a reddening berry, still white on the underside. They should be ripe by this time of year, but the lack of sunlight has set them back. Now they’re uncovered, a bit of sun on them will soon turn them red, and the mass of plants we’ve found are covered in small green berries, which need time to grow, and plenty of dainty white flowers with yellow middles waiting to be pollinated. On cue, a bumblebee buzzes across to visit one and I pull my hand away to give it space.
There’s a rustling in the bushes behind us and we both go to turn around, but before we get even halfway, Baaabra Streisand appears through the brambles and runs at us, headbutting neatly into the space between our knees and I squeal as the impact sends both of us sprawling. Ryan lands on his back and I topple forwards to land smack against his chest.
The sheep backs away with a self-satisfied look on her face.
Ryan’s arms automatically snap around me and hold tight to prevent me rolling off onto the ground that’s covered with leaves and thorns. I’m half frozen in surprise and half warm from being pressed against his body. My initial instinct is to scramble away, but it’s not an entirely undesirable position to be in.
