The Family. Louise Jensen
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impress people who didn’t give a toss about me. Joking all the time became a sort of defence mechanism I guess. Pretending I didn’t care. Of course now I do care, but I’ve realised I’m hilarious so the jokes have stayed.’ She laughed. I loved that she didn’t take herself too seriously.
I stopped worrying about the rain, my hair, as we started to walk again.
‘Living here has changed me.’ She was serious once more.
‘You’re lucky,’ I said. ‘I always wanted to live on a farm.’ I had badgered Mum and Dad endlessly when I was small, longing for piglets, lambs, chicks of my own. It wasn’t until Rhianon told me where meat came from that I stopped asking.
‘It’s not a working farm anymore. It’s a place for communal living. Do you know what that is?’
Instinctively, I started to nod my head the way I do when I don’t know something but don’t want to appear stupid. But something told me I didn’t need to try to impress Saffron.
‘No. What is it?’
‘We’re a group of like-minded people who have chosen to live together. There’re fourteen of us.’
‘Why?’ I was curious.
‘For different reasons. Some because it’s just too damn expensive to get on the property ladder. There’s a chance of a better quality of life here, splitting the bills, sharing the chores. Daisy is hugely into all that save the planet stuff. Hazel is here because she got divorced. We also get drop-ins. People that temporarily want to step out of their daily grind whether for a weekend or a week.’
‘And you? Why are you here?’
‘I lost my mum when I was small, and then later I lost my dad. I was confused. I wanted to find out who I was, away from all the pressures of society. Where I fit. What I want to do with my life.’
We were heading towards the farmhouse. Fields and sky merging on the horizon. Without the hum of constant traffic I got at home the world seemed slower. Stiller. Smaller. Or maybe I just felt bigger without the incessant noise and movement.
‘It’s hard to explain,’ Saffron said. ‘And I know it sounds a bit arsey to say I’d lost my identity, but that’s how I felt.’
‘Yeah. I get that,’ I said. It was how I had been feeling for months. Mum and Dad had been watching a documentary a while back when she said, ‘It must be nice to live without technology.’ I thought she was having a dig at me because I was on social media, but when I looked up I saw these women in long dresses and hats on the TV making a quilt. They looked so content and their happiness formed a knot of envy in my chest. I spent so much time taking selfies for Instagram. Running them through a filter to make myself as flawless as possible. Posting them with captions that had to be funnier, snappier than the previous one. It was in that moment I realised I had become a patchwork version of myself. Each photo, each square, had to be brighter, more vibrant, more beautiful than the last. So dazzling people didn’t know where to look first, didn’t see things too closely. The stitching coming apart. The hem where it’s starting to fray. The material dull and fading from constantly being in the light. What everyone saw on the outside never matched how I felt on the inside. I had become a black and white, washed out version of myself. Tattered and threadbare.
Thunder clapped. Saffron grabbed my hand. ‘Run!’
A stitch burned in my side as we tumbled through the door of the farmhouse into the kitchen.
I didn’t know what to make of what I saw inside.
LAURA
There’s nowhere to run to.
‘You can’t leave,’ Alex said. ‘I know it’s incredibly difficult to ask for help but you’ve taken the first steps coming here. Don’t go before we’ve talked about your situation. Seen if I can help.’ He waved the gun. ‘I’ll put this away. Sorry. I forget it’s there.’ He must have caught my horrified expression. ‘It’s Dafydd’s, he owns the farm.’
‘Is it loaded?’ I was repelled and yet strangely fascinated.
‘No. Do you want to hold it?’
I couldn’t help taking it from him. I’d never held a gun before and it felt cold and heavy in my hands. My finger curved around the trigger. Although it was harmless I couldn’t bring myself to squeeze.
‘Here.’ Abruptly, I handed it back to him.
While he took it out of the room I noticed the clock on the mantelpiece was displaying seven when I knew it was nearly lunchtime.
‘I think your clock needs winding,’ I said when Alex came back in.
‘I purposefully keep it like that,’ he said as he sat at the table, gesturing for me to join him. We’re too governed by time. When we should eat. When we should sleep. We should listen more to our bodies. Our instincts.’
‘I can’t see my daughter’s head teacher being pleased if I rolled up late because I hadn’t set the alarm.’
He laughed, although it didn’t reach his eyes. I could see a gap in the back of his mouth where he was missing a tooth, but it didn’t detract from the obvious. He was incredibly handsome.
‘Time is unavoidable in some circumstances, but life is a series of moments and if we clock-watch and plan, we miss the here and now. If you think about it, each moment could be our last and I don’t want to spend mine thinking about what I have to do next. It’s what I’m doing now that’s important.’
I couldn’t help trying to picture what Gavan’s last moment was like. What his final thought was. Me? Tilly? Did he know he was going to die as he plummeted from the scaffolding?
‘Sorry, have I upset you?’ Alex lightly touched my arm and I blinked away the film of tears glazing my eyes.
‘It wasn’t you. It’s just…’ The choke in my throat was held back by the rest of my words. I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and forefinger. It was several seconds before I could speak again. ‘God. I’m glad Saffron took Tilly to look around so she didn’t have to see me like this. Everything seems so hopeless.’
‘I know how that feels.’ This time it was his eyes that filled with tears.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes. Sorry. It’s been one of those weeks. What I was clumsily trying to say is that nothing is hopeless, Laura. And you’re not alone.’
There’s no one to help you. The sour-breathed truth in my ear so many years before had rung true again in recent months.
But perhaps, now, there was someone to help me.
‘Saffron told me you have a dispute with your insurance company. I’m so sorry. Let’s have a look, shall we? See what we can do?’ The way he said ‘we’ was as warming as the fire. He clicked the end of a ballpoint pen and flicked through his notebook containing rows of figures before he came to rest at a blank page.
‘I’ve been writing a business plan,’ he said.
‘Look.’ I was torn between need and good manners. Politeness won out. ‘I know this is an imposition. If you’ve too much on…’
‘Not at all. Sometimes helping someone else is just what you need to take your mind off your own problems.’
‘Oak Leaf Organics is a wonderful idea. It just needs time to find its feet,’ I said.
‘Let’s help you find your feet. Tell me all.’
‘We’ve been paying into a joint life insurance policy for years, and never missed a monthly premium. They’re supposed to pay out £500,000, but they’ve said