Page 32 of The Wishing Tree Beside the Shor
I lift my head and meet his eyes, and although I’m trying not to laugh, one look at him trying so valiantly to hold back laughter finishes me off, and we’re just lying there giggling.
Baaabra comes forward again and bumps her head against Ryan’s arm and bounces backwards. She looks at us with the sheep equivalent to a smirk, hoovers an unripe strawberry straight off one of the exposed plants, and runs away again.
‘And people wonder why sheep aren’t more traditional pets,’ I say. ‘Who’d have a dog when you can have that?’
He laughs, and I go to push myself up, but his arms tighten at the movement.
‘Don’t move for a second. I’ve got fifteen years’ worth of hugs to catch up on.’
I’d say I go hot all over, but I was already hot from the weed pulling and lying on top of Ryan is doingnothingto improve the situation.
I tell myself to relax. To be honest, I could do with the lie-down because it’s been alongtime since I did that sort of physical exercise, which he can undoubtedly tell with my podgy bits pressed all over him, and I’m hyperaware of being sticky and sweaty after a couple of hours of beating down bramble bushes, and there are probably thorns in my hair.
He thunks his head back against the ground, his body shaking with laughter that reverberates through me too. I can honestly say that if there’s one place I never thought I’d be, it would be lying on top of Ryan Sullivan on the strawberry patch in Lemmon Cove again.
‘Oh dear, are you okay? Are you hurt?’ Alys starts tottering towards us to help, and I quickly hold up a hand and reassure her we’re fine. Ryan’s arms release me and I stagger to my feet, bracing my knees to get my balance, unexpectedly out of breath.
Dignity, I have it inspades.
He folds his arms behind his head. ‘Think I might stay here for a bit.’
I hold my hand out to pull him up, and he slips his fingers around mine, and for one second I think I’m going to lose my balance and go careening into his lap again, but my feet find their bearing and I drag him back upright.
We stand there and look over the patch of ground we’ve cleared between us. There are still stray bramble branches and chopped leaves from what we’ve taken away, but the ground underneath is green, mossy in places, and there are tall strawberry plants with their neat clover-shaped leaves popping up all over, a mass of runner tendrils tangling each plant with the others near it.
It takes me a few moments to realise he hasn’t let go of my hand.
He peers down at our joined hands, and his fingers tighten instead of letting go. ‘We still make a good team.’
‘We always did,’ I whisper, like speaking in a normal voice will make him wrench his hand away.
I even manage to momentarily forget how sweaty my palms are. And how there are undoubtedly pieces of bramble stuck to my clothes, just to reinforce how much grace and finesse I have.
‘This was fun, right?’ He looks down at me and quirks an eyebrow. ‘It’s been too long. Inallsenses of the word.’
That fluttering takes off in my chest again, but I force it down, imagining myself stomping on the beating butterfly wings. Misinterpreting Ryan’s friendly flirtation was where I went wrong last time. I can’t make that mistake again. He doesn’t mean anything by it, just like he didn’t before.
‘We’ve got a lot more to do.’ I jerk my head over my shoulder, indicating the rest of the bramble-covered land.
‘Same time tomorrow?’ he says with a grin.
I look up at the sky. It’s late and dark clouds have rolled across the sun and the residents are starting to rub their arms and make noises about it being nearly teatime. ‘I’m in if you are.’
He grins. ‘It’s a date.’
Ryan Sullivancannotsay things like that to me. ‘Yes. The eleventh of August. That’s a date, right?’
‘That is, quite literally, a date,’ he says with a laugh and then ducks his head nearer to me. ‘But that’s not what I meant.’
My stomach rolls with an unease I haven’t felt for fifteen years. This is what he does – he’s just being friendly, but it’s easy to misinterpret. I extract my hand quickly, and remember we’re not the only people here.
Cynthia and my dad are admiring the flowerbeds now, Tonya is on her phone, and Ffion and Alys are deep in conversation about what gadgets the kitchen in Seaview Heights might have that would be impossible to guess.
No matter what I tell myself, I’m looking forward to coming back tomorrow. Working with Ryan again. Spending time with Ryan again.
I do know one thing though – I can’t remember the last time I thought about getting anyone to give up this protest.
Chapter 9
