Everyone is equal
until the day they’re born
a king is not a king
until his crown is worn.
Anything is possible
when nothing has been done,
I’m the unfired bullet
in the barrel of your gun.
‘That’s so sad,’ I say. ‘Beautiful, but very sad.’
Lucas flicks his phone closed. ‘None of it is a barrel of laughs, is it?’ He lifts his pale face to me. ‘On the bright side, I’m finding misery quite motivational.’
‘Oh, Lucas.’
‘Yeah, well, let’s face it, I’m never going to write bloody love sonnets, am I?’
‘You did very well with your cheery Christmas poem.’ ‘That was definitely a one-off.’
That makes me laugh, but Lucas doesn’t join in. ‘Oh, my darling boy, what can I do to cheer you up?’
‘Fuck knows.’ His eyes are bright with tears. ‘Just don’t be too nice or I’ll cry.’
‘We could decorate the inside of the caravan for Christmas. If you like. We are the only bit lacking festivity. Even if you don’t feel like it, I think it would be a good thing to do.’
Lucas shrugs his acceptance.
‘There are some spare Christmas lights from Bev’s splurge. That should do it.’
‘I’ll get the step ladders,’ he says.
So Lucas brings them from the barn and I find the Christmas lights. I hand them up to Lucas, directing him how to drape them into garlands round the ceiling of the caravan, hooking them onto whatever we can as we go.
‘I am an expert in this,’ he tells me.
‘I know. But let that bit dangle a bit more, just don’t cover the door.’
He’s in the middle of a heavy sigh when there’s the sound of a car in the lane and all the dogs go into a frenzy of barking.
I look out of the window and it’s Shelby. ‘Your dad’s here.’
‘Now?’
I don’t know who’s more surprised, me or Lucas.
‘Did you know he was coming?’ Lucas asks as he climbs down the ladder, lights put aside.
‘No. I haven’t spoken to him for a few days, but he didn’t say anything.’ If I’d know he was coming I might have done something with myself. ‘I’d better go and let him in.’
So I hurry across the yard to open the gate and Shelby pulls in, giving me a wave as he drives by.
‘Hey,’ he says as he climbs out of his unfeasibly shiny car. ‘Good to see you.’
My heart, as always, tightens when I see him. But now there’s a feeling behind it that I can’t identify. He looks vibrant, glowing and altogether too polished to be in our humble yard. His pristine jeans, black jumper and jacket make him look like he should be modelling designer clothes or flogging aftershave.
‘You should have told me you were coming,’ I say as I go to hug him. ‘I would have made something special for lunch.’
‘Flying visit. As always.’
Arm-in-arm, we walk across to the caravan and, inside, I announce, unnecessarily, ‘Look who’s here!’
‘Good of you to grace us with your precious time, Father,’ Lucas replies and, already, we’re off.
To his credit, Shelby ignores the barb. ‘You look a bit down in the dumps, Son,’ he says, cheerily. ‘Everything OK?’
‘Fine,’ Lucas mutters.
I look at Shelby and indicate with my eyes that he should keep quiet. But no, he’s not receiving my warning look.
‘How’s that hot girlfriend of yours?’ he asks and, unwittingly, digs himself deeper.
Lucas winces and two spots of red appear on his cheeks. ‘Fine,’ he says tightly. ‘Everything’s fine and fucking dandy.’
I think I should separate these two quickly before it ends in pistols at dawn.
‘We were trying to spruce up the caravan for Christmas,’ I explain.
‘Great idea. ‘Looks like you’re doing a good job there, Son.’
Lucas glowers at him. And Lucas does very good glower. ‘Stop calling me “Son”.’
‘You are my son,’ Shelby snaps back.
Oh my giddy aunt. I stand between them. ‘Speaking of Christmas, we need to decide where we’re going to spend it. I have to organise food and all that. I assume you’d prefer to be at Homewood.’
‘Ah,’ Shelby says. ‘That’s really why I’m here. We need to have a talk about that.’
Lucas rolls his eyes. ‘Count me out of that one. Some people embrace Christmas, some people have Christmas foisted upon them.’ He stomps back up the stepladder and snatches at the lights.
I turn to Shelby and grimace. As always, stuck in the middle. He’s looking stony-faced.
‘Shall we have a cup of tea or a walk across the fields?’ A cup of tea equals not so bad. A walk, something terrible coming.
‘A walk, I think,’ Shelby says.
‘I’ll get my coat.’ I smile and brace myself for the worst.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
We go over the stile and, instead of taking our usual route over the fields, I turn right and head into the woods that border our property on one side. The mulch of damp, fallen leaves is turning to mud. I’m glad that Shelby put on his wellington boots, even though they don’t look like they’ve seen much in the way of mud action. Possibly another pair purloined from the Flinton’s Farm prop store.
The dogs run ahead, picking their way along the path and through the trees. Betty Bad Dog bolts after every squirrel that she sees, ever hopeful that one day she might catch one. As she’s so over-excited and uncoordinated, I think the squirrel population of Buckinghamshire is quite safe. Every now and then, Little Dog comes back to check that we’re still here as Shelby and I follow on behind. The trees are bare skeletons, black silhouettes against the clear blue sky. I like the stripped back minimalism of nature at this time of year but, nevertheless, look forward to spring and wonder what next year will bring for us all at Hope Farm.
When Shelby fails to start a conversation, I revert to my stock question and ask, ‘How’s the panto going?’
‘Good. Good. I’ll be glad when it’s done. This far into the run, the jokes are starting to wear thin. At least I don’t get a custard pie in my face twice a day.’
‘Not long until you finish now.’
‘No.’ He lapses into silence again.
‘Penny and Jess have settled into the cottage,’ I tell him. ‘I can’t thank you enough for that. They’ll be so much safer there.’
‘Not a problem. Glad to be able to help. I haven’t been home yet. I’m pushed for time, so I’ll head back after a bite of lunch.’
‘So soon?’
‘Stuff to do tonight,’ he offers.
‘Oh.’
We walk on, quiet again. I feel the weight of many unspoken words hang in the heavy air between us. Sometimes, when Shelby doesn’t have a pre-prepared script, he seems at a loss. When we are deeper into the woods, he takes my hand in his. ‘This is tough,’ he says.
‘You’ve taken the LA job.’
‘Yes.’
‘There’s no surprise there. I know how much it means to you.’
‘I’m planning to stay for a year. Initially. I want to make my mark while I’m there.’
I nod. ‘Initially’ is a big word.
‘I’ll get a nice place out there. The studio are being very generous. You can come out as often as you like. With Lucas too,’ he says. ‘And, of course, I’ll come back regularly.’
But he won’t and we both know that. It’s been hard enough for him to find time to come back from Birmingham to see us.
He rubs at his chin, frowning. ‘How do you think Lucas will take it?’
‘As always with Lucas, that’s anyone’s guess.’
‘Will you tell him?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘You’re his dad. You need to sit and discuss this with him.’
‘Huh. You’re so much better at talking to him than I am. I just make him cross.’
; ‘You’re going to leave him here with me, though?’
‘If he wants to stay.’
I experience a moment of dread. I’m sure that Lucas will want to remain here at Hope Farm. He has me, Alan and Bev, the animals, his studies. Surely, he won’t want to go? But Lucas is in a fragile place right now and he might think that a change of scene might do him good. Perhaps, like Shelby, his head will be turned by the lure of Hollywood. I simply don’t know.
‘They want me there as soon as this run has finished.’ Shelby wrings his hands. ‘Ideally, I’d take the flight on Christmas morning.’
‘But you don’t finish in panto until Christmas Eve.’
‘That’s the difficulty.’
‘I see.’ I jam my hands into my pockets. ‘So you have no plans to see Lucas and me at all over Christmas?’
‘I’m trying to juggle everything,’ he pleads. ‘It’s just another day. I’d like to get out to America with a bit of time to spare. Filming starts straightaway and I need to get over the jet lag. I don’t want to be going into the studio feeling fuddled. I have to be straight out of the starting gate. It’s ruthless out there.’
And yet he’s choosing it over his own son, over me.
In the middle of the path, I stop and look at him. I have loved this man so much. He has taught me a lot about myself over the last six months. ‘I want this to work for you with all of my heart,’ I tell him. ‘Really I do.’
He places his hands on my arms, his face the picture of relief. ‘I knew you’d understand, Molly. You always do.’
‘I do understand and hope you do too.’ A feeling of calm descends on me. ‘Shelby, we both know that this is the end of the road for us.’
He looks appalled. ‘Why would you say that?’
‘You want to be free to fly high and I don’t blame you.’
‘But what about you and Lucas?’
‘We’re happy here. If Lucas chooses to stay with me, I’ll look after him to the very best of my ability. I couldn’t love him more than I do. He’s the closest to a son I’ll ever have.’ I get stab of pain in my heart for the child I’ve lost, but that’s something that Shelby will never know about. ‘Yet, we both have to face it, this isn’t your ideal life. I think you like the idea of a quiet, natural existence without the trappings of fame and fortune, but it’s an act.’ Something that Lucas has always pointed out that Shelby does so well. ‘It’s something that you want on occasional weekends, whereas I’m grounded here and this is where I want to stay. I don’t want to come to Los Angeles. I want to be here with my animals, up to my elbows in mud and manure. That’s what I do best. It’s who I am.’ He goes to open his mouth to speak, but I press on before I lose my nerve. ‘You love the person you are and the life you lead. And that’s fine by me. That’s a good thing. But my part in it ends here.’
‘I love you.’ His expression is bleak.
‘And I will always love you,’ I promise. ‘But sometimes love isn’t enough.’ Shelby has been my first love. I think as it came later to me in life, I have cherished it all the more, but I can also recognise when it’s over. For him and for me. ‘You’ve been one of the very best things to happen in my life. I hope we’ll stay the closest of friends.’
Shelby looks flabbergasted, but surely he must have seen this coming?
When he manages to speak, all he has to offer is, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Be happy. We have one life, Shelby. Go and enjoy yours.’
‘This isn’t over for us, Molly. I have to do this. You know that. If I don’t, I fear I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. But I promise you, I will come back to you.’
But what I can’t tell him is that I don’t think I’ll be waiting.
Chapter Seventy-Nine
When we get back to the caravan, Lucas has strung up the Christmas lights and it looks amazing. They criss-cross the ceiling, giving a multi-coloured disco effect. There’s a mini fake tree set up in the corner that’s hung with baubles that are too big for it. A gold star shines out from the top.
‘Behold,’ he says, ‘Yonder Christmas caravan!’ He sounds chirpier now; sometimes, his mercurial moods catch me off balance.
‘All this looks wonderful, Lucas.’ I squeeze his arm. ‘Very cosy.’ ‘I got a bit carried away,’ he explains with a shrug.
‘Well, I’m glad that you did.’ I try to respond to his brightness. ‘Fantastic job!’
Yet, when he sees our faces – or our body language – he frowns and says, ‘What?’
‘Your dad is going to take you out to lunch,’ I tell him. ‘Just the two of you.’
‘Without you? Why?’ He looks to each of us for an explanation.
‘We’ve got things to talk about,’ Shelby says.
‘Then let’s talk about them here.’
‘Lucas, please go with your dad,’ I beg. They need time together, and I know that sometimes Shelby says all the wrong things, but I can’t do this one for him. He has to step up to the mark and be a proper parent to his son.
‘We’ll just go to the local pub,’ Shelby offers. ‘Come on. Let’s have a bit of time to ourselves.’
Lucas looks horrified. ‘Are you two splitting up? You are, aren’t you?’
Shelby and I exchange a glance, both of us worried.
‘I knew it.’ Lucas huffs at us both. ‘Well, I’m staying here with Molly. Whatever’s going on, I’m not budging. This is my home now.’
My relief is palpable.
‘Come to the pub with me,’ Shelby cajoles. ‘We can discuss it properly.’
‘No,’ Lucas says. ‘Everyone will be looking at us. It’ll be a fucking circus like it always is.’
‘I can’t help that,’ Shelby says crossly. ‘It’s my life.’
‘That doesn’t mean it has to be mine,’ Lucas snaps.
As usual, I end up refereeing. ‘Let’s scrap the whole pub idea,’ I suggest, placatingly. ‘I can make us some sandwiches and we can discuss it together.’
Lucas gives me a thankful look. Shelby also seems grateful that he won’t have to do this with Lucas alone.
‘Sit down, both of you, while I make lunch. Talk.’
Lucas goes straight on his phone and ignores his father while Shelby sits and looks as if he’s no idea what he’s doing here.
So, muttering silently to myself, I bang out some sandwiches and a big pot of tea. Then we sit awkwardly at the table beneath lights which are flashing on and off in random patterns, while Shelby explains that he won’t be home for Christmas and that he’ll be leaving us both behind to head to Hollywood for a fantastic role that will make his fame and fortune.
I thought he might come back to pack up his stuff, but apart from one suitcase, Ken will see to it all and ship it on to him. Ken, it transpires, will be joining him out there for the foreseeable future.
Lucas sits and calmly takes it all in. He doesn’t rail or rant and I’m so proud of the mature way in which he handles this news – another blow, no doubt, on top of everything else. Shelby, on the other hand, looks devastated. Now that he’s said it all out loud, perhaps it seems more real to him. He comes to the end of his speech and we all fall silent.
I jump in and say, ‘It’s a great opportunity for your dad.’
Lucas rolls his eyes at me and picks up his phone again.
Shelby looks at me, eyes pleading – for what, I don’t know. He’s leaving. There’s very little else to be said.
Conversation is, at best, strained as we finish lunch and, as soon as we’re done, we both walk Shelby to his car. He hugs Lucas and, for once, his son doesn’t resist. Perhaps there’s a small sign of capitulation here.
Then it’s my turn and I step into the warmth of Shelby’s arms. I remember how all this started and how I had so much hope for us all. For a moment, I’m almost undone. From the way that Shelby is holding me, I feel that he might be regretting accepting this move which has been on the cards for so long.
‘I’ll message you on Christmas Day.
’ He looks like he might cry or change his mind and not leave at all.
For a moment, I think about begging him to stay. Parting isn’t ‘sweet sorrow’, Mr Shakespeare, it’s bloody agony. The pain threatens to take my breath, but I don’t want Lucas to know that I feel like this, so I hold it all together for his sake.
Shelby kisses my hair before reluctantly letting go of me, and climbs into his car. As he passes us to go out of the yard, Shelby leans out of the window and says, ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘Have a safe journey.’
We close the gate and Lucas climbs on it as we watch him go. As the car turns out of the lane, he looks at me and sighs. ‘We’ve both been dumped.’
‘I let him go, Lucas. It was the right thing to do.’
‘He’s a knob,’ Lucas says as he jumps down next to me. ‘He thinks it will make him happy out there, but it won’t.’
‘You might well be right,’ I agree.
‘It will be better with just you and me,’ Lucas says. ‘You wait and see.’
I think he’s right about that too, but for now, my heart feels shattered into a thousand pieces.
Chapter Eighty
I have very little time to nurse my broken heart as Christmas Eve is, somehow, suddenly upon us. It’s the last day for us to have students on the farm and I’m very pleased to say that we’ve got a full house. To celebrate, Bev is cooking us a veggie Christmas dinner with her special nut roast and, thanks to a generous donation from a local supermarket, Christmas pudding to follow.
Everyone is in an excitable mood. The tea room is full to bursting. The tables are laid out in a long line and are set with all the festive fripperies. Crackers that the kids have made in their craft sessions are given pride of place and are adorned with holly, berries, angels and stars. They are, without exception, totally wonky and all the more adorable for it. There are pretty centrepieces fashioned from holly that Anna has made in a much more professional style and Bev has splashed out on some red paper napkins. Everyone is wearing the traditionally awful paper hats – also handmade. The weather has been terrible for the last few days, so there has been a lot of indoor activities which are now in evidence.
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