The Little Barn of Dreams

by Lucy Knott

  ‘Take your time, my treasure,’ Margot whispered, holding her tight.

  ‘Ma’am, there are other people waiting. Are you getting in the taxi or not?’ came the taxi man’s gruff voice, said not nearly as patiently as her nanna’s words.

  Florence had got by over the years with trains and trams and she loved to walk, but cars she hadn’t been able to manage. She tried to act nonchalant, shrugging her shoulders and encouraging her legs to put one foot in front of the other but it was not happening. Margot raised her palm at the taxi man, kindly asking for a few minutes.

  Closing her eyes, Florence heard a small voice in the back of her mind, her dad’s voice: ‘My brave girl,’ he said. She saw him then, sat in between the book stacks on their living room floor, clasping her hand and raising it in the air as they both stared down at the cuddly toy dragon that had a paper sword they had made, tucked under its wing. A smile teased her lips and nudged her forwards.

  ‘Sorry, sir. Yes, thank you for waiting,’ she said to the taxi man as she helped her nanna into the vehicle. The man took their bags while Florence played her dad’s words on repeat in her mind to drown out the thumping in her ears and the heavy thud of her pulse as she fastened her seatbelt.

  Margot told the taxi driver of their destination while Florence took steadying breaths. The journey was a quiet one, neither woman saying a word as the car drove down the winding country lanes. When they came to the site of the accident, Florence reached out and took her nanna’s hand while Margot looked out of the window towards the heavens. Florence allowed her nanna that moment of what she hoped was closure after all this time. She hoped Margot could hear Darcy and Henry too and that she knew how thankful they were to her for raising their little girl. Florence felt her mum encouraging that thought.

  ‘Mum’s proud of you. She is thankful for you. She says I turned out pretty wonderful.’ Florence spoke quietly at first, then let out a small laugh, causing Margot to turn and face her. Her bright blue eyes beamed.

  ‘I am thankful for her too and I could not agree more,’ her nanna noted, giving her hand a squeeze.

  The knots in Florence’s stomach loosened as the roads became familiar and she sensed they were only a few minutes away from the camp, but that feeling didn’t last long, for when they descended the hill where the camp came into view, all the eye could see was trucks and machinery. Florence’s heart sunk quicker than a lead balloon. She was too late.

  The taxi hadn’t come to complete stop before Florence was unbuckling and pulling at the door handle. The gravel crunched under the wheels and when the man did stop just inside the gates, Florence flung open her car door. The normally fragrant air, perfumed with peonies and blossom, smelt metallic and stale. The symphonic sounds of the birds chirping had been replaced with a dull hum of foreboding.

  Almost forgetting herself for a moment, the close of another car door whipped Florence’s attention back around to her nanna getting out of the car. This wasn’t the picture-perfect moment she had dreamt this of being for her nanna. The lush, vibrant and stunning views of the land had been disrupted by the ugly, cold metal of the looming beasts. Florence rushed around the car to help Margot, who waved her away.

  ‘Do not fuss, Florence, I’m fine,’ she said, though Florence could hear the strain in her voice. This time she didn’t believe it had anything to do with her nanna’s physical pain. Assured that her nanna was indeed capable of standing on her own two feet, Florence hastily grabbed her bag and paid the driver after he saw to collecting their luggage from the boot. He gave her a confused look as he looked over what now appeared to be a construction site and not exactly an ideal holiday destination. Florence returned a tight smile. She couldn’t blame him; it looked dangerous.

  Securing the handle of the two suitcases after a brief protest from her nanna, Florence began walking the gravel path up to the main cottage. Margot walked by her side. Once they passed the machine graveyard and the cottage could be seen up ahead, Florence’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, and she heard a gasp escape her nanna’s lips. She slowed her pace, allowing Margot to take it all in.

  As her nanna’s eyes danced over the charming stone structure, Florence heard the gravel crunch with footsteps coming from around the back. The footsteps grew louder until George appeared. He walked towards their party with intent, his arms outstretched and a smile all over his face. Florence glanced at her nanna whose eyes were now glistening with unshed tears. When George reached her, there was no hesitation as Margot fit nicely into his embrace. Florence choked back her own sobs at seeing the two of them together after all this time. Love broke through the musty air, giving Florence hope.

  ‘Margot, my dear, you’re here,’ George said, after breaking their hug. He held Margot at arm’s length, drinking her in. ‘You have not aged. Look at those crystal blue eyes, so alive and sparkling, as bright as I remembered,’ he gushed, making her nanna blush. Florence stood quietly for a moment not wanting to interrupt their moment.

  ‘Oh, George, you were always such a charmer. You still look as dapper as you did back then,’ Margot replied, making Florence think that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. Jo had that charm about him too and that old-fashioned vibe to him, which one could only attribute to his grandad, Jo having never known his dad.

  The thought of Jo caused Florence to pipe up. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but George, what is going on? Whatever you need, we’re here to help. I have a plan,’ she said desperately. George placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled gratefully before gesturing that they continue into the cottage. Florence let the two friends lead the way as she pulled the suitcases behind her.

  She supposed in all the madness, it was rather lovely hearing her nanna and George talk in hushed tones, their hands clasped together, leaning into each other as they walked, as though they were catching up on all the gossip they had missed. Stepping inside the building, George settled Margot on the bench by the reception desk as Florence busied herself pulling out her notes and paperwork from her bag and placing them on the desktop, feeling like there was no time to lose.

  ‘George, look, we can’t let them do this to your land. If it’s money you need then we simply raise the funds. We hold an event, raise enough to get them off your back and get those awful machines off your property and then we regroup. I’m sorry that Jo left you. He might not believe in the huts anymore, but the point is that they are here. We advertise, we showcase them, we won’t fear social media, we will use it to get those huts a million hearts.’ Florence’s own heart was racing. She had never talked with so much gusto in all her life. ‘We can get the village involved, hold a summer fair and bring in vendors. You don’t have to do it on your own, George, we can help you. Sal will help you.’ Florence was confident that Sal would back up her idea when she told him. His face that day she had spoken of the barn made sense the moment she had laid eyes on the leaflet. How had she been the only one to naively fall for Jo’s plan? Everyone knew it was a bad idea to sell to Luxury Acres but her. But had Jo’s heart really been in the wrong place? Why would he have spent time building the huts and renovating the barn if he knew it was all going to be destroyed? Hadn’t he just been trying to help? But if that was the case and he hadn’t simply wanted to make a commission then where was he now?

  George stepped behind the desk and looked over the sheets of paper Florence had put down.

  ‘You’ve been working hard. How do you suppose helping me will fit into your busy schedule once school starts?’ he asked, looking at her with a warm smile. Florence could not understand how he was being so calm after everything she had just said.

  ‘I will manage it, George. You have Nanna too. Her brain has many more years of imagineering experience than mine. There are endless possibilities of how you can keep this place afloat without careless investors taking over and obliterating it,’ she pleaded; her face serious though she heard Margot snort through a stifled chuckle. She wasn’t calling her nanna old, merely experience
d.

  ‘You are both incredibly kind and I am sincerely grateful that you care so deeply as to come here and help, but I am afraid that my time has run out,’ George explained, looking slightly forlorn as he rustled Florence’s papers. ‘It’s all a bit of a mess. One I must take blame for too. I let it come to this,’ he added with a sorrowful sigh.

  ‘Is there nothing we can do?’ Margot asked, sympathetically. George wandered over to the bench to sit with her as Florence paced the beautiful, patterned rug. George took Margot’s hands in his and gave a small, defeated shrug. Florence felt her skin prickle and anger bubble in her stomach.

  ‘We need to get Jo on the phone now. We need him here. Be it by accident or on purpose, this whole thing was his doing; he needs to fix it. He should not have just left. You need to speak to him, George, demand that he return and sort this out,’ Florence stated, her voice rising as her anger built. There was still that tiny sliver of hope in her heart that this whole thing had been some misunderstanding but at this point that sliver could not allow her to step back and rest. There was no time. ‘I don’t care that he is a grown man, you are still his grandad and he should be held accountable for what he has done. We need him here,’ Florence finished, aware that her voice had come out with more desperation than she had intended it to at the end. Selfishly, she needed to know if the Jo she couldn’t stop thinking about was real or if it had in fact all just been a figment of her imagination.

  As if someone had just turned the page in a romance novel at the moment when all hope is lost and the heroine is about to give up on the hero, the cottage door creaked open and a tall silhouette appeared in the doorway. The sun cast a shadow on the heart-shaped jaw and the floppy curls were wilder than usual. When he stepped out of the glare of the sun, Florence’s heart about leapt from its cage, traitorously. Jo’s piercing hazel eyes were as vivid and enchanting as she remembered but the bags underneath them were new.

  ‘Grandad,’ he shouted, then he froze on the spot upon catching sight of Florence. Florence’s body too stiffened and though aware that her mouth was open, she couldn’t get the signal to her brain to close it. In that moment, it felt like there was a tornado of feelings causing havoc in her mind. Tears sprung to her eyes as she studied his face, his high cheekbones, his expressive brows, and lips that could curve into the most handsome smile and recite the most beautiful words. She had missed him so much, yet at the same time the anger still fizzed over all the trouble he had caused for George.

  George got to his feet causing both Florence and Jo to pry their eyes off each other and turn to him. Margot stood too.

  ‘Jo, what’s going on? Where have you been?’ George asked, walking over to his grandson, worry etched on his face, but there was a deep love in his eyes. He reached out and put a hand on Jo’s shoulder. Jo stepped forward and dropped a kiss on his grandad’s head before turning to look at Florence. He then raked a hand through his unruly hair, his brows furrowing as he surveyed her.

  ‘Are you angry with me?’ he asked. George chuckled. Florence couldn’t believe Jo’s attention was on her, when his grandad had just asked two very important questions.

  ‘Jo, your grandad just asked you a question. Stop looking at me,’ she said, his intense eyes making her pulse quicken.

  ‘I know but are you mad?’ he asked again.

  Florence narrowed her eyes. ‘I think that very much depends on how you are going to answer your grandad’s questions,’ she said. Jo nodded and that’s when Florence noticed he was holding a piece of paper. She thought herself a patient person but in that moment her hands prickled with anticipation. What was written on that paper?

  Florence looked at Jo expectantly, but he wasn’t looking at her, for he had noticed her nanna stood over by the bench. He took two strides towards her and bowed with his hand out. ‘Hello, Mrs Margot, I’m Jo,’ he said, as Margot shook his hand. Florence had to suppress a smile at Jo’s need to be polite in the middle of a crisis.

  ‘Hello, dear boy,’ Margot replied. ‘While I appreciate your politeness, I do believe you have some explaining to do,’ she added, with an earnest glare.

  ‘Shall we go to the café and get some tea?’ Jo suggested, holding out his arm for Margot to take and gesturing in the direction of the café to Florence.

  ‘Jo, there are bulldozers parked outside this building ready to demolish this place. What on earth is going on?’ Florence snapped. It seemed adrenaline and passion did not make for a patient concoction.

  ‘I promise I’m going to explain.’ Jo said calmly but Florence gave him a suspicious look. He had promised that the camp was in safe hands before but the diggers out front begged otherwise. However, as he started to walk, she didn’t have a choice whether or not to follow.

  They were all sat around a large wooden table with mismatched chairs, except Jo who was pacing the floor with a knuckle hovering at his lips. Sal had brought out tea and coffees and was now sitting with them too. There were no guests to see to and so the kitchen kept quiet and still.

  ‘I had thought the transaction final. We signed the land over to Luxury Acres and that was that. I thought the camp would be in safe hands as that is what they had promised but when Kirsty visited that week you were here, Florence, I started to have my doubts. Everyone was angry with me, speculating that I had made a mistake to trust them, to believe that humble huts and barns would be their vision for this land, but I didn’t see a way out of the debt, a way to keep this place running without significant help. I wanted to believe that Kirsty cared about my family’s history but then I recalled her mentioning something about a pool and a vague question about water mains for the old shower unit, but I wasn’t paying much attention as I was late for meeting Florence. When Florence mentioned book trails to me, something triggered in my brain about an email I had received about a new road, a trail that cut across the land for easier access from the motorway. I panicked and knew I had to go back to London and speak to Kirsty to find out what was really going on,’ Jo told the group, who all sat in stunned silence. Florence felt a pang of empathy for Jo. He had simply wanted to put his faith in another human being and Kirsty had betrayed him. Then a spasm of guilt made her heart twitch uncomfortably. Had she done the same?

  If she was truly honest with herself, after their time together, she had felt their chemistry had been undeniable and their bond unquestionable, then he had trusted her with his heart, put faith in her that she might look after it and she had let him down. The worst part was she had felt all the things Jo had felt, but had made him believe she did not, all because she had been scared. She swallowed down the lump in her throat and tuned in to what Jo was now saying.

  ‘You were all right. Sal, Grandad, please forgive me. When I went to Kirsty and asked to see the plans for the land, she first tried to tell me that they weren’t ready yet, that they would email me. Then she made a comment about how the land was not mine anymore and so I shouldn’t worry so much about it, that I could relax and get back to my life in London, that everything was taken care of. That’s when I said to her that I wouldn’t leave until she showed me,’ Jo said and Florence could picture him as a pirate standing on the bows of his ship holding on to the sail, refusing to give up his captaincy no matter that the ship was sinking.

  ‘Jo, it’s clear that their plans were not the same as yours, the heavy machinery out front told us that, but what are we going to do about it?’ Sal asked, which was the question on everyone’s mind. Florence appreciated Jo’s story, but he needed to skip two steps ahead and tell them what they were to do now that the land was sold.

  ‘Sorry, yes, yes,’ Jo acknowledged waving the paper he still had in his hand. ‘When she showed me the plans, I could have cried but I couldn’t let her see me like that.’ Florence’s heartstrings gave a strum at Jo’s words. She hated that he struggled so much to be himself in the world sometimes too.

  ‘I left her office feeling defeated. I had encouraged Grandad to sell the land, I had made him sign the pa
pers, for of course the owner of the land needed to sign on the dotted line. In thinking of the ownership, something propelled me into looking over the deeds and that’s when I found it.’ With this Jo’s voice grew more triumphant and everyone sat up a little straighter, nodding their heads. Jo still had not told them any new information or given them the solution, but the relief that Jo’s intentions had been pure made Florence relax ever so slightly. She glanced around the table, studying the looks on everyone’s faces to see if anyone knew where Jo was taking this story. She was at a loss and couldn’t understand why he was smiling. Then slowly George’s lips began to turn up with a grin.

  ‘God bless her – Audrey,’ George said, shaking his head and then wiping a hand across his face as tears wet his cheeks. ‘How could I have forgotten?’

  Jo stepped forward and wrapped his arms around his grandad’s shoulders, then placed the paper in his hands.

  ‘My nanna had a covenant placed on this land that states no large hotels, nor malls, nor industrial buildings nor motorways can be built upon it or through it, and that it is to remain a recreational park, in all its natural beauty, for the community of Lily Pines to enjoy,’ Jo announced causing a cheer to erupt from around the table. Florence felt her whole body shake with elation. She wanted to get up and hug Jo, but Sal had beat her to it and was patting him on the back. When Sal returned to his seat, Florence tentatively stood and hovered for a moment suddenly feeling nervous. Jo saw her and took a step towards her, brushing a curl out of his face.

  ‘It seems that somehow my nanna is still looking out for me. I imagine dealing with my mum growing up wasn’t easy; no doubt she knew I was bound to make a few mistakes here and there,’ Jo said, with a small side smirk. He looked at her from under his hooded lids, his face flushed. He looked embarrassed.