The Little Barn of Dreams

by Lucy Knott

  ‘I’m well thank you, love. And you?’ he returned, plating up a croissant and adding it to a tray holding two cups and a teapot.

  ‘Just fine, thank you. Could I place an order for two bacon butties to go please?’

  ‘You’re not eating with us this morning?’ Sal questioned, busying himself by waving at one of his waiting staff. He motioned for them to take the tray to an elderly couple who were sat on a couch doing a puzzle together. He did not meet Florence’s eyes.

  ‘Erm, no. I’m heading to the barn,’ Florence said, her voice a little less chirpy than before.

  This time Sal met her gaze. Florence felt like she was thrust into an impromptu no-blinking contest, until Sal shook his head and said, ‘Of course and that’s no trouble. No trouble at all.’ Florence didn’t miss the resigned way in which his words came out. She bit her lip in thought.

  ‘Sal, I don’t mean to impose but are you mad at Jo? I mentioned the barn and it seemed to cause friction between the two of you and I never meant for that to happen,’ Florence said, resting her interlocked hands on the counter. Sal looked to the floor and then back to Florence, his grey eyes turned from sad to happy and his lips curved into a smile.

  ‘Pay no attention to me, Florence. All is well and you did nothing of the sort. I knew that kid when he was in nappies. That’s how long I’ve been here.’ His words began to trail off like he was telling someone else and not Florence, then he seemed to catch himself. ‘I won’t be a moment with your breakfast,’ he said, with a wave of his hand as he disappeared to the fryer.

  Sal had wished her a productive day when he handed over her breakfast and she left the café feeling positive with a hint of curiosity as to why Sal sounded so disorientated. But she could not pry anymore; it was not her business. Unable to resist the freshly fried bacon, Florence ate her butty while taking in the scenery on her route to the barn. The trail filled with a scrumptious smell of crispy bacon and hot buttered bread.

  Having already devoured her breakfast when she reached the barn, Florence got to work removing the remaining mess from the back of the large open space. Her hot bath had loosened up her tight limbs as had the walk this morning, so she made quick work of a rather tangled set of branches. As she pulled them up from the ground, she suddenly noticed something in the floorboards. A patch stood out unlike the rest. It was glistening gold with not a spec of dirt and there in the middle was a lock. She leant over closer to inspect it. Its obscure shape and rustic appearance made her wonder how long it had been hidden. Was it a trapdoor to another world or a hiding place for someone’s treasure? Should she investigate? Well, that was a silly question; of course she had to investigate. She had to know what was below it. But wait, where was the key? She took a step forward; maybe it had fallen under the debris. Without warning, she felt a pain shoot up her ankle, her foot was caught in a trio of knotted branches and she could feel herself falling.

  Bracing herself to hit the floor, a cry escaped Florence’s lips as two arms wrapped around her tight, stopping her from hitting the ground and shocking her out of her daydream.

  Peeling open her eyes she came face to face with Jo, who had caught her in a dipped position almost like they had been dancing.

  ‘Well at least we know one of us will be there to catch the other when they fall,’ Jo remarked with a friendly smile.

  ‘I got you breakfast,’ Florence retorted as if it was consolation for not taking his hand yesterday and letting him fall into the mud.

  Jo tilted his head from side to side, exaggerating his thinking over Florence’s apology. ‘You’re forgiven,’ he said, pulling her upright, with a chuckle.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘for saving me and for forgiving me,’ she added, shoving him in his bicep.

  The sun’s rays were already beaming through the cracks, making Florence glad of her lighter outfit. Today she wore a dusty brown playsuit with white polka dots that allowed her to move a little smoother and not trip up over a long skirt, there were enough things to trip over as the branches just proved. Jo wore a grey T-shirt that was baggy on his frame but suited him with his worn jeans.

  ‘I don’t think it will take too long today. The floor should be free of debris in another hour or so. We could get a few cleaning products, give it a mop and a polish. I can nip into the village when we’re done here and pick up a few things. I mean, if that’s what you think we should do – you can clean it however you’d like,’ Florence said, telling her thoughts to Jo and suddenly panicking that she was intruding on his project. She hadn’t mean to come across so bold but something about the barn lit a spark inside her and she couldn’t contain the inspiration or excitement. Having found his bacon butty that Florence had perched on a relatively dust-free rock by the door, Jo was munching away at it thoughtfully, while listening to Florence.

  ‘I’ll go with you; we can drive in as it is a fair walk,’ Jo said after finishing another bite. Florence’s worry that she had overstepped instantly went away with Jo’s calm response, but her pulse spiked at his suggestion of driving. ‘And I’m grateful for your enthusiasm,’ he added with a smile.

  ‘No, I mean great but honestly it’s fine. You don’t have to drive,’ Florence said, aiming for her voice to sound casual, like she didn’t want to be a bother, but she could hear the higher pitch the words came out in.

  Jo stopped eating his sandwich. ‘How do you plan on getting there when there are no buses around here?’ he asked, tilting his head. His face was a picture of puzzlement. ‘It’s a thirty-minute walk or do you really own a magic carpet?’ He raised his eyebrows with great curiosity.

  Florence would have laughed if her palms weren’t sweating. With her words lodged in her throat, she looked down at her feet and gave her legs a wiggle. This was one area she didn’t feel ready to unload on Jo, but Jo was being frustratingly kind. ‘I’m not having you carry heavy cleaning supplies back on your own, nor am I having you doing a job that is mine to do. I can go and get supplies and you can come if you’d like,’ he said, resting a hand on his hip.

  ‘I’d very much like to come but I’d like to walk please,’ she said. Her voice shook when she spoke. Then she quickly turned away, going at the branches with a vengeance, aware that her stance was now closed off. She just had to steady her pulse and cool down. It helped that Jo didn’t question why she didn’t want to drive. Instead, he started eating his butty again and gave her space.

  As she gathered some of the smaller branches by the window, Florence’s mind caught up on the overthinking she had been having some success avoiding. She hadn’t meant to shut Jo out. Yesterday, he had proven to be a good listener when she had spoken of her theatre days. But the fact remained that she had only known him for one day. There were moments where she felt like she knew him and saw a caring soul but then there was the argument with Sal. Could she really trust Jo completely?

  Besides, some memories were too hard to share. Some memories couldn’t be made less painful by putting on an accent. In addition to her having a break and taking some time for herself, she knew that was part of the reason for her nanna sending her here; so she could create new memories and not see this place as the horror movie she had built up in her head. Though Margot hadn’t voiced it, Florence knew she didn’t want Florence ending up like her and hating this place forever. Being at the camp, Florence felt that the scary movie posters she had pinned up for Camp Calla Lily were starting to peel away, but she couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge or talk about the reason for them having gone up in the first place, at least not yet.

  The images she had seen on the road to the camp were not images she wanted to revisit anytime soon. The barn was a helpful distraction and Jo could be too if she just kept him at arm’s length. She would address her lessons on her own and in her own time but for now she wanted to focus on the fresh air and breathing new life into this old barn.

  A little time had passed rather peacefully. Just the birds singing in the trees and the shuffle and thud of de
bris being thrown onto a pile could be heard.

  ‘Did you have a nice lie-in this morning?’ Florence asked, breaking the silence, and wanting to show Jo that she was fine. ‘I never lie in, but even I snuck in a couple extra minutes,’ she added, chuckling to herself.

  Jo looked up and cleared his throat. ‘Erm, yes. Thank you, I did,’ he said, uncertainly. Florence watched as he raked a hand through his hair and closed his eyes when he thought she wasn’t looking. It hadn’t been a difficult question. Her brows knitted, causing her glasses to dig into the ridge of her nose.

  Florence didn’t miss his sudden shiftiness, she waited for a moment to see if he would elaborate on his answer or give her a clue as to why a lie-in had made him seem so nervous, but in a flash his body language became buoyant again and a bright smile appeared on his lips.

  ‘Florence?’ he said, once but a few spindling twigs were left on the large-planked floor.

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, straightening out her back, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and adjusting her glasses to relieve the throb in her nose.

  ‘Before I came in here, what were you dreaming about?’ he asked casually and merrily.

  Her lips gave a shy smile, her nose wrinkled and with her chin tilted towards the floor, she looked up at Jo from under her long lashes, her stomach prickled with a trace of nerves. This time she wasn’t quite as shocked by Jo’s enquiry but in the same respect she still wasn’t all that used to sharing her dreams with others. She had grown accustomed to them being received with laughs whenever she let them slip. School had been difficult in that regard. She had learnt quickly that the girls were only looking for ammunition when they urged her to share her thoughts. She had fallen for it a few times but by the fifth time, when she was part way through introducing her pet unicorn at ten years old, and the girls had burst into fits of giggles, shoved her and ran off, she realised her mistake and another brick had been added to her wall.

  Florence threw the last of her twigs out onto the rubbish mound and looked over at Jo. His hazel eyes didn’t show signs of judgement but genuine warmth and interest, yet she was rattled by the fact that there was definitely something he wasn’t telling her. However, maybe if she let him in just a little, he would offer her that same trust in return and she could help fix things with Sal – not that she should be thinking about helping them fix things. It was after all, she reminded herself, none of her business. With Sal having known Jo for as long as he had, Florence imagined him watching out for Jo as a boy growing up on this land. She hated that they were at odds, but had to assume bickering was only natural when you had known someone that long. At least, that is what she told her nosy brain. So, Florence pointed to the spot on the floor that had distracted her earlier. In reality it was no different to the rest, but of course her mind liked to play tricks on her.

  ‘I saw a trapdoor,’ she explained.

  Jo closed one eye, crossed one arm over his chest, the other stroking his chin like he was Sherlock Holmes. Then in one sudden movement he became animated, his curls bouncing around as he took two strides to where she was pointing and bent over to examine the floor. Florence startled.

  ‘A trapdoor, you say – no way. Over here, did you say? I see,’ Jo said, moving in a circle, still hunched over, now pretending to smoke a pipe.

  Florence held on to her stomach as laughter bubbled inside her.

  ‘Then please tell me what you are doing over there. We must investigate at once,’ Jo said gesturing to Florence and making her spring forward mirroring his stance, looking down at the imaginary trapdoor.

  ‘No, no, not here, the key, dear, we need to find the key,’ Jo said, now standing tall and waving her away making the laughter erupt from inside her. He flailed his arms. ‘Look around, look around, bring the key to me.’ Florence shoved him in his side before complying with his instructions. She began running around in search of the key and so the next half hour unfolded with both Florence and Jo scrambling around the old barn, laughing until their sides hurt in search of a long-lost key. When they were all out of energy and breath and couldn’t possibly laugh or run anymore, they flopped onto a lonely hay bale at the front of the barn.

  ‘Miss Florence, can I interest you in an ice-cream and a bucket and a mop?’ Jo asked, staring up at the roof before turning to look at Florence, the hay tickling his cheek.

  ‘What more could a woman ask for?’ Florence replied with a smirk. She then swiped at a touch of dust on his cheek and made herself laugh in the process. ‘I may have just made that worse.’ Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment, causing Florence to snap her hand away. What was she doing? Why had she just touched a stranger’s cheek? That wasn’t something normal people did.

  ‘How about we freshen up and meet at the main desk?’ Jo suggested. His voice came out a touch croaky. His eyes had become ardently interested in the ceiling as had Florence’s.

  A few silent minutes passed before they both cleared their throats and stood up. Looking anywhere but at each other they stepped back, hands on hips, to admire their morning’s accomplishment and nodded.

  ‘Break,’ they said in unison before retreating from the barn and making their way back to their respective huts.

  Ten

  Florence made quick work of getting ready. She ran the bath while scrubbing her face in the small ceramic sink to wash away her sweaty make-up. When the bath was full enough to where she could splash water over herself and scrub the dirt and grime off her body, she jumped in and out in timely fashion and threw on her yellow ruffled summer dress. After dabbing some fresh cream onto her face along with a touch of blush, she headed to the lobby. She wanted to check in with her nanna before she and Jo were to walk to the village. As she swung open the door of the main cottage, she heard a voice that sounded a lot like Jo’s. Florence’s brow knitted, for it wasn’t a tone that she had grown accustomed to from Jo. He sounded angry.

  Not wanting to eavesdrop, Florence slowed her pace towards the front desk, for the noise was coming from George’s office. She looked around the reception desk wondering if anyone else was around when Jo’s voice grew loud.

  ‘What exactly would you have us do, Grandad? Our hands are tied – surely you see that?’ he shouted, frustration clear in his voice.

  Suddenly, George came out of his office, causing Florence to spin around on the spot making a dramatic attempt at looking like she had just come from the lounge. She was about to greet George cheerfully, to not let on that she had heard a snippet of his conversation with his grandson but stopped when she saw this his face looked crumpled and old. Florence much preferred when he smiled. Could she ask him what the matter was or was that too nosy? The urge to help was becoming keener. But before she could say a word, George waved in the direction of the phone, barely looking up. ‘The phone is there, my dear. Use it as you need,’ he said before shuffling back into his office, clearly not wanting to talk.

  Florence turned and twiddled the phone’s cord between her fingers as it rang, feeling a little rattled over seeing George’s defeated face and hearing such an angry tone in Jo’s voice moments ago. A further flash of worry zipped through her brain as she waited for her nanna to answer. By the sixth ring her hands started to grow clammy. Panic made her fear her nanna had fallen or that something else was horribly wrong and she couldn’t get to the phone. She gripped the desk when just before the seventh ring her nanna’s voice came through.

  ‘Hello, petal,’ Margot sang merrily. Florence sank against the desk letting out a relieved sigh. ‘You just caught me and Olivia in the middle of a good chat,’ her nanna explained, the delight in her voice making Florence beam. Olivia had only been to their house on a few occasions, so it meant an awful lot that she had popped in to check on Margot without being asked. Florence had spoken to Olivia on the phone before she had left on Monday night to tell her of her travel plans and Olivia had assured her she would ring her nanna every day to see how she was getting on and to see if she needed anything. Olivia h
ad also been ecstatic that Florence was going on holiday. It was incredibly heart-warming that her friend had paid a visit to Margot to keep her company. The action made Florence feel understood, something she didn’t always feel with Olivia.

  ‘That’s lovely, Nanna. Hi, Liv, how are you both?’ Florence asked, perking up, her clammy hands drying up now that she knew Margot was more than OK.

  ‘We are fine here. How are you, treasure?’ her nanna asked.

  ‘Have you met any dishy country men?’ Olivia shouted from the background. And there was the Olivia Florence knew.

  ‘It’s wonderful, Nanna, and no, Olivia,’ Florence said, firmly. Movement behind her made Florence turn around. It was Jo coming out of his grandad’s office with his grandad following him with his head down.

  Both grandad and grandson looked withdrawn and forlorn. Was Jo the reason for George’s grumpiness? The question zoomed around Florence’s brain. She couldn’t see how Jo could make anyone miserable, yet after Florence had mentioned the barn and helping Jo yesterday, Sal had given him daggers. She swallowed down the nervous lump in her throat, wondering if she had read Jo all wrong. Was his kindness a façade? Besides the odd time when she was a teenager, she could never imagine shouting at her nanna. What could have made Jo so mad that he would treat his grandad like that? Florence narrowed her eyes as if that would help her figure out what was causing the friction between the two men, but then Jo caught her eye and his face transformed with a dazzling smile that made his eyes sparkle.

  Florence seemed to lose herself for a moment, forgetting she was on the phone and that she needed to keep her guard up. But Jo was no longer wearing his baggy jeans and grey T-shirt; they had been replaced by cream trousers and a billowy checked shirt, with the sleeves rolled up and the sight of him made something stir in the pit of her stomach. ‘Right, I’ve got to go. Jo and I are going into the village. You two be good,’ Florence announced to her nanna, suddenly wanting to get off the phone before Olivia read her mind through the airwaves and called her out for her out-of-character thoughts. She snapped her eyes away from Jo, who stood with his hands behind his back patiently waiting for her to finish her phone call. He made no gesture for her to rush, which caused havoc to Florence’s current conflicting thoughts.