into the cold and get on with my day. ‘I should go.’
Matt leans over and gently kisses my cheek. ‘Merry Christmas, Molly.’
‘Merry Christmas, Matt.’
Then I open the door, get out and go through the gate. Matt reverses down the lane and I watch as he goes. My head is whirling with all kinds of thoughts and emotions, but I can’t catch onto any of them. However, I do know that I’ll be glad to see the back of this week.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
We don’t have students here at the weekend, as a rule. So, today, it’s just me and Lucas. Yesterday, he spent most of the day secreted in his room, only coming out for meals, so I hope he’s feeling a little more amenable today. All I want is a nice, quiet Sunday with no drama.
All the animals seem fine this morning. The alpacas are well-behaved and even Anthony the Anti-Social Sheep is quite sociable. The temperature is dropping rapidly and we seem to have our own much chillier micro-climate here on our exposed site so I give everyone a little extra food as we’ll do all through the winter.
When Lucas eventually wakes up, he’s in a reasonably good mood, which is a relief. ‘You seem a bit better today,’ I venture as I pour some cereal into a bowl for him.
He puffs out a world-weary breath as he slides into a seat at the table. ‘Life goes on, right?’
‘It does.’ I put his breakfast in front of him and, with a little more than lethargy, he tucks in. I join him and we eat in companionable silence.
Eventually, he looks up from his bowl of cereal. ‘I wrote a poem about it.’
I glance at him hopefully.
Preceded by a lot of tutting and sighing, he says, ‘I suppose you’d like to hear it.’
‘Very much so.’
‘OK.’ Lucas flicks open his phone and, on a deep breath, says, ‘ “The Unfired Bullet”.’
My slate is clean
my page unwritten,
my slice of life
as yet unbitten.
My conscience clear
I’m indecision,
no prejudice to queer my vision.
No allegiance
no concern,
no moral compass to discern no hopes,
no dreams,
no blind ambitions,
no regrets,
no learned repressions.
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