Page 47 of The Wishing Tree Beside the Shor
‘It would be nice to know I’m doing something to help the community. I keep our garden nice because your mother always did, but it’s only myself and random passers-by who appreciate it. I’m told you’re uncovering strawberry plants?’
‘And who would’ve told you that, I wonder …’ I leave nothing out of my voice, my tone clearly telling him I knowexactlywho told him that.
‘I may have had a little conversation with Cynthia on the phone last night.’ It’s really something when even your seventy-year-old dad goes the colour of a Parcelforce van.
‘It’s okay if you like her, Dad. Mum’s been gone for nearly twenty years. She wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life as alone and unhappy as you’ve been until now if there’s someone out there who you deserve a second chance with.’
‘You and your sister are just the same. I’ve already had this conversation with Cher this morning. I don’t know where you’re both getting these ideas from.’
‘And I guess that big grin you can’t get off your face wouldn’t have tipped us off at all, would it? Or the matching one Cynthia’s wearing around the strawberry patch …’
I go to the kitchen before he has a chance to respond, throw some cereal down my throat for breakfast, and pack a couple of slices of the lemon meringue pie Dad baked last night for Ryan too. I’m rushing because I can’t wait to get there.
I can’t wait to see him again.
Chaos. Chaos is what awaits me at the strawberry patch. The gate is open and there are at least forty children hanging around on the coastal path and a couple of the local primary school’s minibuses are in the car park with teachers trying to herd children into groups. Some of the children have filtered down towards the strawberry patch where Cheryl and a couple of other teachers are standing inside the gate, talking to Ryan, Tonya, Mr Barley, and Morys.
There are so many people that I seriously consider turning back, but like he’s got some kind of radar for my footsteps, Ryan looks up at that exact moment and catches sight of me. Or maybe it’s because the lower half of my hair is blue. I thought it blended in, but maybe it makes me impossible to miss.
He beams and waves, and the sight of his smile is enough to make me dodge my way through the groups of kids and teachers on the coastal path.
‘Like your hair, Miss,’ one of the little boys says, making me grin as I thank him. No matter his age, his simple compliment puts a spring in my step.
Ryan’s excused himself from the conversation and is coming over, and Cheryl waves to me, and I don’t miss the stealthy gesture as she points to him and then gives me a thumbs up.
Even though the gate’s already open, Ryan meets me there like he did the other day and before I realise what’s happening, he’s hugging me.
‘Good morning,’ he says in my ear as strong arms tighten around my body, making me feel steady despite the swirling in my head caused by his closeness.
I murmur something that might also be “Morning” as my hand drifts up his back and my fingers curl into his shoulder like a claw, involuntarily pulling him closer. He must’ve been home to change because he’s wearing ripped jeans cut off to mid-calf length, which don’t go at all with his usual black and grey hiking boots, and a navy vest tight against ample tanned shoulders that my chin is somehow resting against as I hug him.
His hair is still damp from a shower, and I know drying it in the sunlight will make the curls go mad, and he smells of shampoo and that green, herby cologne again.
This isn’t weird. He used to hug me when I got into work at Sullivan’s Seeds every day. I repeat it to myself until one of the little boys makes an “oooo-ooooooh” noise and I blush and push myself away rapidly.
Ryan rolls his eyes and looks at me with a grin, and for one second, I think he’s going to lean down and kiss my cheek, and thatwouldbe weird.
I take a step away from his arms, and then because I can’t keep my distance no matter who’s watching, I reach out and jiggle the soft fabric of his vest. ‘No chain today?’
‘Alys is on tree duty.’ He nods towards the giant sycamore where Alys is sitting in the deckchair underneath it, the chain wound around her, and Baaabra’s non-murderous head in her lap, like an overly large dog. ‘I thought I’d better handle flyer distribution to this lot.’
He looks around the sea of children. ‘Who’d have thought summer camp would be so busy?’
Even though it’s the summer holidays, the school stays open as a summer camp for children who have got nowhere else to go. All ages are mixed together, none of them are in uniform, and from what Cheryl says, it’s a lot more relaxed and fun than an ordinary school day.
Ryan takes my hand and pulls me along with him. ‘Everyone’s waiting for you. And when you get a minute, Alys wants your opinion on the latest round of “Guess the Gadget”. Her mate is winning and she knows you’ll be able to outfox her.’
I appreciate his faith in me, but it makes my stomach sink again. Lying to them all is making me feel worse every day. Ryan’s hand tightens around mine as he tugs me over to rejoin the group.
Tonya comes over for a hug and I have to let go of Ryan’s hand to hug her back, which is just as well because there is no universe in which I shouldeverbe anywhere near his hand, never mind holding it.
I feel welcome and wanted here. It’s something I haven’t felt in a long time. Every day at work in London is a dread. I’m wanted there an equal amount to how much I want to be there.
Mr Barley hands me a flyer. ‘Look, aren’t they brilliant? The printer delivered them this morning.’
They’re as perfect as the mock-up Ryan showed me a few days ago. It contains the mention of Godfrey’s story, and I wave to the elderly man who is sitting on his regular bench and holding court with a small group of children who keep asking him for his autograph on their flyers, and he looks the brightest I’ve seen him.
‘This lot are going for a nature walk,’ Morys says. ‘They’re going to put our flyers through every door they pass. Different age groups are going in different directions, and then they’re going to meet back here for their packed lunches and they want a talk about the tree for their summer projects.’
