He stares at me, his eyes wide and his mouth slack, and then he throws his head back and howls with laughter.
I collapse into giggles.
‘That is some seriously scary Silence of the Lambs shit, Leah.’
‘I know! I told you I’d sound like a psychopath!’ I reach out and touch his hair. He freezes, amusement caught on his face. ‘It is so silky,’ I say with amazement.
He’s still laughing, but not as much as before.
‘Fuck me, you’re funny,’ he says, with a look of such fondness that it makes my heart swell.
‘You make me laugh too.’ I shove his arm good-naturedly and glance down at the farm. ‘They’re back!’ I gasp at the sight of the Land Rover. ‘Quick, come on!’
* * *
I know when I walk into the kitchen, huffing and puffing from running almost the whole way back, that the meeting with Sophie did not go well. Mum and Dad are in the kitchen, talking, and they both look grave.
‘Where’s George?’ I ask, panting.
‘He went for a walk,’ Dad replies wearily. ‘Hello, Theo.’
‘Hi,’ Theo replies, uncomfortably.
‘Do you know where? Is he okay? What happened?’
Dad sighs. ‘I’m sure he’ll tell you all about it when he’s ready, love, but I think he might need some space right now.’
‘If he does, we’ll leave him be.’
‘Give him half an hour or so,’ he insists.
‘Fine.’ I look at Theo and jerk my head towards the door. ‘Come on, we’ll wait in the Bunny Barn.’
Halfway across the courtyard, I duck left. Theo jogs after me. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I think I know where he’ll be.’
‘But your dad said—’
‘What, you always do what you’re told?’
‘I thought you were the good girl,’ he gripes.
‘Not today.’
We find George under the big old oak tree in the wood.
He stares at me bleakly as I approach, his knees drawn up in front of him and his head resting against the trunk. His eyes move past me to Theo and he shifts and straightens.
‘Hey,’ I say cautiously as we both go to sit down.
He looks as though he’s been crying – his face is patchy and red – but his eyes are dry.
‘Hey,’ he mumbles.
‘Are you okay?’ Theo asks with concern.
George shakes his head, his bottom lip wobbling. Unthinkingly, I reach out and hook my arm around his knee. Theo pats George’s other knee. George doesn’t move.
‘Did you see her?’ I ask.
He nods and looks down.
‘Was she okay?’
‘She was grand,’ he replies gruffly.
‘What were her foster parents like?’
‘Nice. They were nice.’ He swallows. ‘She seemed happy.’ He pauses. ‘I don’t know if she remembered me.’
My heart squeezes.
‘I was thinking that she didn’t,’ he continues. ‘But a few times she looked at me for a bit longer and seemed to be thinking about it. Mostly she was acting like a happy little kid, showing me her toys and wanting to play. But then, when I went to leave…’ His Adam’s Apple bobs up and down again. ‘She had a meltdown,’ he says. ‘And refused to say goodbye.’
I hug his knee and two fat tears spill from his eyes. My heart is breaking for him.
‘Did you give her the letters?’ I swipe my own tears away.
‘I gave them to her foster parents to pass on to her adoptive parents. I don’t know if they’ll give them to her straight away or wait until she’s older.’
‘Surely you can still see her after she’s adopted!’ Theo snaps with a sudden burst of frustration and anger.
‘It’ll be up to her adoptive parents,’ I explain gently.
I can tell he wants to fix this. But it’s not that simple. Many adoptive parents start off thinking that they’ll be fine with their adopted son or daughter having a relationship with their biological family, but when it comes down to it, if things are going well, they might wonder if it’s worth the risk of upsetting them.
‘They live in Devon,’ George says. ‘Her foster parents said they have a house near the sea. They were going on about what a great life Sophie was going to have. Lots of fresh air and sandcastles on the beach.’
I can’t speak. My throat is too swollen. He’s talking in such a matter-of-fact way – there’s no bitterness, only acceptance.
I tighten my hold on him.
‘This is a joke,’ Theo spits, getting to his feet. ‘How can they do this? How is this fair?’
‘It’s not fair,’ I murmur, resting my chin on George’s knee.
‘There must be something we can do,’ Theo says.
‘There’s nothing we can do,’ George replies starkly, looking up at him.
I lift my eyes. George glances down at me and we hold each other’s gaze for a long moment.
‘You could write to the adoptive parents.’ Theo starts pacing. ‘We all could. We’ll convince them that George and Sophie shouldn’t be separated. We’ll—’
‘Thank you,’ George interrupts him. ‘Ta for being here.’ He meets my eyes again. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you two.’
‘You’ll always have us,’ I say in a husky voice. ‘We’ll help you get through this.’
The sound of a car makes us turn our heads to see a dark-blue Range Rover coming along the lane.
‘That’s my father.’ Theo sounds shocked. He tears away from us, trying to flag his dad down.
Theo never calls his dad for a lift – if he doesn’t walk, it’s the groundskeeper, Bart, or even one of my parents who will drive him.
But for some reason, Edwin Whittington is here.
I watch as the blond giant of a man gets out of the car. Dad has come out into the courtyard, but Edwin point-blank ignores him, furiously beckoning Theo over with a murderous expression on his face.
Theo walks to the car with his head bowed. I remember that his bag and blazer are in the house so I run up the hill, trying to catch him in time, but the Range Rover is already on its way back down the lane.
‘Your bag!’ I shout.
Theo stares at me through the window. He doesn’t seem older now: he looks young and pale.
I feel ill as I watch the car drive out of view.
Chapter 23 Now
It’s Saturday afternoon, a week after my dinner with George at the pub by the river. Mum, Emilie and I are at the Cracked Teapot, setting up for Mum’s first knitting workshop.
Shauna and her team are still serving customers out at the front – the café is by the cathedral in Ripon, and the town is heaving with tourists – but we’ve taken over the back room and gone a bit bonkers with bunting. Mum is expecting ten people, three of whom only booked yesterday: twin twenty-something sisters who thought it might be a nice surprise for their mother’s birthday. Becky and I make up another two of the numbers. The rest are legit customers.
Last week, Gemma, Shauna’s down-to-earth girlfriend, came over to the farm for a photoshoot – turns out she’s an amateur photographer as well as being a postie.