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.’
‘Which Ryan is going to do,’ I say quickly before he can volunteer me. I’ve never been good at talking in front of people.
Tonya is handing out the sycamore leaves to colour in, and Cynthia is sitting on a flowerbed wall talking to a woman with her arms around a little girl who looks ten-ish, older than most of the kids here, and one of the nurses from Seaview Heights has come down to collect a bunch of flowers from her.
‘Is that Edie?’
‘It is. She’s waiting for you,’ Ryan says. It makes me feel important again, and like I matter here. I wave to Edie, and both she and her granddaughter give me a bright smile and a wave back.
‘If you’re looking for stories about your tree, one of the boys in my class says he was made here.’ Cheryl points out a little boy on the coastal path, currently using sticks to have a lightsabre fight with a friend.
‘Made?’ I say in confusion. ‘They built him like a robo— Oh! Oh! That kind of made!’
I blush because I’m such an idiot, and they all laugh, but it feels like they’re laughing with me, not at me.
‘His parents might’ve told him the stork who delivered him lived in the tree for all we know,’ she says.
‘Well, they might not want people knowing about the alfresco naughtiness they get up to, but pass on my email address, will you? If they’re happy for their young son to tell people that, maybe they’ll be happy to share it with the website.’
‘Will do.’ Cheryl salutes me.
There are masses of flyers all around, everyone seems to be holding a stack, and it’s the first time I realise how many Ryan must’ve ordered. If there’s a chance of getting even half of these distributed, we must be able to find more connections to the tree.
Mr Barley has gone to chat to Edie, and a couple of other teachers have taken flyers and are trying to direct restless children back towards the car park. Which is probably just as well because Mr Barley is now pointing out his latest creation to Edie – a Boris Johnson gnome wearing a bikini and having a swim in the bird bath. A goldfinch sits on the edge looking traumatised by the scantily clad interloper in his regular bathing spot. In the flowerbeds, at the edges of Mr Barley’s slug maze are a selection of rapidly deteriorating slugs in various stages of explosion that I can only hope the children didn’t see.
As Cheryl and the endless stream of kids wave goodbye and go off clutching their flyers and a stack of laminated leaves to tie onto bushes and branches, I go over to say hello to Edie and her granddaughter, earning myself a hug from both of them and Cynthia too. Everyone is so friendly here. I’ve never known anything like it.
‘Dad says he’ll pop down later,’ I tell Cynthia, thoroughly enjoying the way her face lights up almost as much as Dad’s did at the mention of her.
Edie and her granddaughter follow me down the now much wider and less treacherous path towards the tree. Baaabra Streisand lifts her head from Alys’s lap and regards us with interest.
‘Oh my God, a sheep! Can I stroke her?’ the granddaughter asks.
I go to advise against it due to her bloodthirsty tendencies, but Baaabra seems to understand and hefts herself up and trots over inquisitively. The granddaughter drops to her knees and starts stroking her neck and tickling her chin.
‘See?’ Ryan calls over. ‘She’s only scared of you if you’re scared of her.’
I turn around and poke my tongue out at him, making him laugh.
Now the kids have cleared out, it’s quiet at the top end of the strawberry patch again, and he’s already picked up a shovel and gone back to digging out rogue bramble bushes, moving full steam ahead with the plan of reopening the strawberry patch.
‘It’s a grand idea,’ Alys says, making me wonder if I said that out loud.
She’s looking pointedly between me and him, clearly having seen every second of that little exchange.
I direct Edie around the trunk, telling her to be careful of the roots that spider out from the base and the loose chain that’s draped around it.
The granddaughter has now got Baaabra’s head on her shoulder while she tickles her under the chin and the sheep looks like she’s about to fall asleep standing up. ‘Grandma, can we have a pet sheep?’
Edie laughs. ‘No, but how about we bring your mum back and visit this one? She seems to like you.’
‘She likes everyone other than Fliss,’ Alys adds helpfully. ‘Maybe she’s pre-emptively jealous of losing her owner to another woman.’
I choke on thin air. This place is hazardous for throat health. ‘I assure you, that’s not going to happen.’
‘Animals can sense these things, you know,’ Alys continues. ‘It’s been her and Ryan for years now, and look at how much he likes you.’
I follow the direction she points in and look across to Ryan, who’s leaning on his shovel and watching us with a smile on his face.
He lifts a hand and grins when he sees me looking, and then quickly looks away.
I don’t realise I’m still watching him until she clicks her fingers to get my attention back. ‘He’s lonely, Fliss. You’re the first woman he’s let in for donkey’s years. Well, of the non Ovis aries variety. Baaabra Streisand can sense it, I’m telling you.’
‘We’re just friends,’ I say assuredly, even though the words make me flush warm all over. ‘It isn’t like that between us. It never was.’
Baaabra Streisand chooses that moment to attempt to eat one of the granddaughter’s plaited bunches and the girl squeals in delight as she pulls it out of her mouth and waves it in the sheep’s face, teasing her like she’s dangling a toy mouse in front of a cat.
I’m once again grateful to the sheep for her excellent timing as it distracts the attention from anything to do with me and Ryan.
The granddaughter stands up and Baaabra trots happily behind her new friend. Edie has brought photos of her shop taken over the years, and I search out the daisy carving again and both she and the granddaughter and the sheep pose and let me snap pictures for the website, as they point at the carving and hold up the aged photos in front of the tree.
I keep glancing up at Ryan and meeting his eyes across the distance, smiling every time until one of us looks away.
‘Eager to get hot and sweaty with him?’ Edie says, ensuring I choke again.
‘There’s a lot of weed removal to be done if we want to reopen the strawberry patch,’ I say when I’ve recovered, deliberately ignoring the implication.
‘I can’t wait to come strawberry picking here,’ her granddaughter says. ‘Are you really going to reopen?’
‘As soon as we can. We’re hoping by the weekend. We need to get the rest of the ground cleared and a bit of sun on the berries, and we should be good to go.’
‘We’ll leave you to it,’ Edie says. ‘But let me know when opening day is and we’ll be here. Nothing better than a freshly picked strawberry.’
Before they go, Alys ropes us all into a game of “Guess the Gadget”, and Edie’s granddaughter wins by correctly guessing the image in question is a heated ice cream scoop and cheers like she’s won the lottery when Alys
’s friend messages back to grudgingly give her the point.
Maybe “Guess the Gadget” has the potential to catch on after all.
Alys assures us that she’s quite happy to stay chained to the tree with Baaabra, so I escort Edie and her granddaughter back to the entrance, and the sheep follows until she reaches the end of her lead, and the granddaughter runs back to give her another cuddle, and she bleats forlornly as she watches them leave, then she goes to sit by Alys but turns her back to show her annoyance at not being able to keep her new friend.
Ffion goes to sit with Alys to keep her company. Tonya is at one of the picnic tables near the care home sorting colouring-in leaves, laminated leaves, and flyers into some sort of order that only she understands; Godfrey is recovering from his new-found fame by reading his newspaper and sipping a cup of tea; Mr Barley is doing … something atrocious to a gnome version of Nigel Farage; and Ryan is leaning on his shovel, his forehead glistening in the good way under the morning sunlight.
I pick up a garden fork and go over. ‘Busy morning, right?’
‘Oh, that?’ He waves a hand in the direction of the gate. ‘Just a standard day at the office.’
It takes me a while to realise he’s joking and then I overcompensate by laughing way too hard.
‘Seriously, Fee. It fills me with hope. Everyone we just saw – kids and teachers, residents, Edie – they’re all so excited about the possibilities of this place. They all said they’re going to come here to pick strawberries when it reopens.’
‘A bit of rain yesterday and the sun today and these berries are ripening. Look at that one.’ I point out a glossy red berry not far from our feet. ‘We’re going to have a glut by the weekend at this rate. Do you honestly think we’ll be able to open in time?’
‘Yes.’
‘That simple?’
‘We make a good enough team to do anything.’ He grins and I have to lean on my fork to make sure no one can tell how shaky my knees are. ‘All we have to do is clear out the last of these brambles today, and then lay weed-suppressant fabric down so they don’t regrow, and it gives people a stable surface to walk on.’
‘Did someone say something about the first strawberry?’ Godfrey is behind us even though I’ve been so swept up in Ryan’s pale blue-grey eyes that I didn’t hear him move. I’m also fairly certain that those things in their ears masquerading as hearing aids are actually some kind of radio-controlled signal amplifier that ensures they never miss a word spoken between me and Ryan.
‘What a moment!’ Tonya shouts, jumping up from the table fast enough to send her neat piles scattering again. ‘We need to record it for posterity. Someone special should eat it and we’ll take photos and put them on social media.’
‘Godfrey?’ I suggest. ‘That could be a nice “circle of life” moment? The ex-owner eating the first strawberry from the newly restored patch …’
‘No.’ Tonya sweeps both hands out to the sides. ‘You two!’
I glance at Ryan and he raises an eyebrow. ‘Us?’
‘You two are the brains behind this operation. It’s only right. Here, I can’t bend that far – you pick it and give it to me, and I’ll go and give it a nice wash while I collect my camera.’
Ryan meets my eyes doubtfully, but Tonya is a difficult woman to argue with. I bend down to do her bidding, plucking the ripe berry and dutifully handing it to her. She thrusts it into the air in victory.
‘Why don’t we all do it? I’m sure we can find a few other ripe ones.’ I look around the carpet of strawberry plants in hope, but she’s already retreating up the garden towards Seaview Heights.
‘No, no, just one will do,’ she calls back. ‘A strawberry is meant to be shared!’
Godfrey goes to talk to Mr Barley, leaving me and Ryan alone.
‘Ever get the feeling they’ve been waiting and planning for this moment?’
‘Very much so.’ I nod in agreement. ‘Although I think Baaabra Streisand’s already eaten the first ripe strawberry, but it seems cruel to spoil her fun.’
‘Judging by what I’ve had to clear up, I think Baaabra Streisand’s eaten several ripe and unripe strawberries.’
It makes me laugh out loud but he goes red and looks away. ‘I’m still an expert on ruining the moment and know just the sophisticated and refined topics to make women swoon, obviously.’
I still can’t stop laughing because he’s hilarious, no matter what topics he’s talking about.
Tonya comes back with a camera around her neck and a piece of tissue paper cradled in both her hands. She’s also got a trail of people following her like some Pied Piper jiggery-pokery is going on. Nurses from the care home and some of the other residents. I spot Steffan lurking behind the hedge as the rest of them come into the garden.
‘Here to witness such a special moment,’ Tonya trills. She’s holding the tissue-wrapped strawberry like it’s made of paper-thin glass.
In the background, there’s the tell-tale beep of someone’s phone recording video. With a bit of luck, it’ll be angled wrongly to face the ground or the corner of a flowerbed or something. I don’t fancy being on video. Again.
My dad appears in the gateway, and Cynthia makes a noise and rushes over to him so fast that she forgets all about the Zimmer frame and leaves it rocking in her wake.
‘Has some sort of alert gone out or something?’ I say to Ryan.
He shakes his head, looking bewildered. ‘I guess it’s a good sign if this many people are so interested in the first strawberry …’
‘Here, now, take it gently.’ Tonya approaches us using much the same tone you’d use when training a puppy. ‘Someone take a picture of me handing it over!’ She barks at the group and several camera flashes go off again as she holds out the strawberry on a bed of tissue paper. It’s been washed and sliced in half.
‘I’m not photo-ready,’ Ryan protests, pushing a hand through his hair self-consciously.
‘I haven’t been photo-ready since 1992.’
It makes us both giggle and a camera flash goes off.
‘At least we’re non-photo-ready together?’ I offer with a shrug, and he meets my eyes and smiles that soft understanding smile that I always felt I was the only one who got to see.
We both reach out to take our halves of the strawberry at the same time and our fingers brush. It shouldn’t be weird, not after I stroked his hair and got so close to him last night, but the touch of his fingertips still makes something spark inside me, and when I look up at him, he’s looking down at his hand like he’s feeling it too.
I pull my hand away quickly and can’t help noticing that Tonya hasn’t taken her eyes off our fingers either.
I wave the strawberry half around in front of me, and Ryan holds his half up too. ‘All this for half a strawberry.’
‘Wait, wait, let me get the perfect frame.’ Tonya moves backwards like a movie director lining up a shot. ‘Ryan, inch a bit to the right. Fliss, you step forwar— No, not that much! Now turn to face each other …’
We do as she says and all the while she’s making “hmm, hmm” noises and holding her camera up to look through the viewfinder.
‘Yes, that’s good. We’ve got the sun off to one side and the edge of the tree in the frame. Now link arms like you were taking a sip of champagne at your wedding …’
I snort. ‘Seriously?’
‘Of course.’ She looks like she doesn’t understand the problem. ‘Quickly, before the sun moves and I have to reposition you. There will only ever be one “first strawberry” – we must get this right.’
‘No one would ever know if it was the seventh or eighth strawberry.’
She puts a hand on her hip and frowns at me. ‘Some of us believe in honesty, Felicity. Now, are you helping or hindering?’ She claps her hands together and makes a shooing motion.
Ryan’s biting his lip to stop himself laughing, and failing fast. ‘Careful now or she’ll put you in detention.’
It makes me laugh again as
he holds his arm up, strawberry held by the stem between thumb and forefinger, tanned forearms flexing in a way that makes me blush for no reason, and I slide my arm through his so they hook around each other’s inner elbow and aim the strawberry halves towards our own mouths.
His skin is warm against mine and I can feel every tiny flex of solid muscle that makes me feel a lot hotter than the sun beaming down on us.
‘Hold position!’ Tonya yells, and a load of shutter clicks go off from the gathered residents.
‘Do you ever find yourself in weird positions and wonder how you got there?’ I whisper.
His eyes crinkle up as he laughs, and I know we’ve both got the overwhelming urge to ram the strawberry up each other’s noses. ‘I can’t think of anyone better to be doing this with.’
It makes me go flushy all over and I’m sure my cheeks are so red that they’re going to struggle to tell them apart from the strawberry.
He untangles his arm to knock his strawberry half against mine. ‘Cheers.’
‘Happy strawberry patch reopening,’ I say, wondering what exactly people are supposed to say in these situations.
‘I’m just celebrating having my partner in crime back.’ He gives me that look again, the one that makes me feel like the only person in the universe as he winds his arm through mine again.
‘And, action!’ Tonya yells before I have a chance to get more overheated.
Ryan squeezes my arm using only his muscle power and it catapults me back to the present with the gathered crowd and Tonya doing a countdown.
On one, we both take a bite out of our respective strawberry halves, and I close my eyes as the sweetness bursts across my tongue.
‘Mmm,’ Ryan whispers. ‘I’m not sure it’s worth all the fuss, but it’s good.’
‘Let’s not use that as a marketing slogan.’
He laughs and opens his eyes. ‘Good, but not worth a fuss. Story of my life.’
I blink at him curiously. I want to know everything about his life. I know this isn’t what he had planned, but I also get the feeling he’s happy here. We spent a lot of time talking about places we wanted to go and things we wanted to see. Before, he was raring to get away, but he seems different now. Settled, secure in his own skin, which is something he never was before, and something I’ve never felt either. That sense of being happy where you are, a feeling of home … I left here to go looking for it, but never found it. It seems like Ryan found it without ever leaving.
The Wishing Tree Beside the Shore: The perfect feel good romance to escape with this summer! Page 18
