‘I’m so useless at this romance stuff, Bev.’
‘That’s because you haven’t had enough practice.’
‘I haven’t had any practice!’ It’s true. Before I met Shelby, there was very little boyfriend action in my life. I’ve always preferred animals. Sometimes, I wish I were more sophisticated, more worldly wise, but, on a farm, no one cares about that and I’ve let my social skills slide.
‘Have a shower, do your hair, dress nicely,’ Bev advises.
‘What about the evening feed?’
‘I’ll do that before I leave,’ she says. ‘Lucas can help.’
‘But—’
Bev cuts me off. ‘What I’m saying is make a bit of effort, Mols.’ She huffs at me. ‘Look like you care.’
‘I do care.’
‘Then make sure Shelby realises that. The man’s a star. He’s used to people falling at his feet.’
‘I’ve never done that.’
‘It wouldn’t hurt every now and again, would it?’ She kisses my cheek and leaves the caravan.
And I stand there contemplating which out of my two pairs of jeans might be considered in the category of ‘dress nicely’.
Chapter Nine
When the day is done, Lucas comes back to the caravan. He’s hardly stopped working all day and as he stands in the doorway kicking off his wellies, I see that he looks tired.
‘Hey. Busy day?’
‘Yeah,’ he says. ‘I spent most of the afternoon repairing the fences with Alan. I’m knackered. What’s for dinner?’
‘I’m making some Mexican wraps filled with peppers and onions accompanied by an avocado salsa thing and rice. Sound OK?’
He comes to look over my shoulder at it. ‘Cool.’
Lucas has gone vegan, so I’m having to up my cooking game. I’m trying to do the same to show solidarity, but I had no idea how much I’d miss proper cheese. The vegan substitute I’ve bought tastes like a bar of soap. And, if you ask me, soya milk smells of sick. We’re currently trialling oat milk, but it makes tea taste of porridge so I’ve taken to drinking it black. I hope Shelby doesn’t mind the absence of dairy. Perhaps cutting it out might help his allergies.
‘Is Dad coming for supper?’
‘I hope so. He’s in the middle of filming the Christmas special, though, so your guess is as good as mine.’
Lucas rolls his eyes.
‘I’ve cooked plenty just in case. Why don’t you have a nice hot shower?’
He kicks his toe against the carpet in his grubby socks. They have a hole in each of the big toes and I’ve no idea how that boy ruins so many. As I still have a morbid terror of supermarkets, I get Bev to bulk-buy them for me in ASDA. I have come to realise that teenage lads get through an inordinate amount of socks, food and toilet roll.
‘Will Dad be here tomorrow?’
‘I doubt it.’ Two nights on the run is unlikely. ‘Why?’
His face is arranged to reflect studied nonchalance. ‘Just thought I might invite someone back. Maybe for tea.’
This takes me by surprise. It will be the first time that Lucas has asked to bring anyone here. ‘Who?’
‘No one.’ Instantly defensive.
‘OK. Does “no one” have a name?’
‘Yes.’
When that name isn’t forthcoming, I venture, ‘Is “no one” a boy or girl?’
Lucas huffs. ‘Don’t get on my case.’
‘Asking what your friend’s name is and whether they’re male or female isn’t getting on your case, it’s being interested in your life.’
‘My friend’s name is Aurora,’ he parrots in a cartoon voice. ‘And she identifies as a female.’
‘Does that mean she is a female?’
‘God, you are so last century.’
‘Quite probably.’ I can do nonchalant too. I stir my peppers. For a moment, I hoped it might be Penny and that she and Lucas had formed a friendship. God knows she could do with one. But I’ve never heard mention of this Aurora before. ‘So where did you two meet?’
‘At poetry club,’ he reluctantly admits.
‘Ah.’ Of course, it can’t really have been anywhere else.
I drive Lucas to a slightly grimy pub in our nearest town, Aylesbury, once a week where poetry club takes place in an upstairs room. I’ve no idea what goes on as I’m not allowed inside and I have to drop Lucas at the door and pretend that I don’t know him. However, it looks as if he hasn’t spent all his time reading his poetry there.
‘What’s she like?’
‘If you want any more information, you’ll have to apply electrodes to my testicles.’
‘Lucas.’ I give him a look. ‘I’m interested.’
‘Nosey,’ he counters. ‘Anyway, I’m not asking anyone to come back if he’s here.’
‘I’m sure your dad would be pleased that you’d got a girlfriend.’
‘She’s not a girlfriend. Aurora’s a friend. That’s all.’ His pale cheeks colour up with two bright pink spots and he says Aurora in a slightly dreamy way. ‘And if anyone meets him they go all ga-ga because he’s on the telly. Then that’s that. It gets in the way.’
‘I didn’t go ga-ga,’ I point out. ‘I didn’t even know who he was.’
‘That’s because you’re a weirdo,’ Lucas says.
I risk giving him a swift kiss on the cheek. ‘Takes one to know one.’
Channelling his inner five-year-old, Lucas rubs away my kiss and stomps off to the shower.
I smile to myself. Boy, girl or whatever, Lucas is bringing a friend home and that’s a big step. He must be very keen. When we moved here, he had a brief flirtation with a young actress, but that didn’t progress much beyond lengthy phone calls and the occasional WhatsApp chat session. It would be nice if he’d found himself a friend. He’s a loner, like me, and that’s not always all it’s cracked up to be.
Chapter Ten
I fluff up my hair, put some mascara on and don a clean jumper and jeans. Even Bev would deem me presentable. However, I’m not sure Shelby will recognise me if he turns up now.
I check on dinner, drain the rice and keep it warm in the oven. The dish of cooked peppers goes in there too. There’s still no sign of Lucas – who’s yet to reappear from the shower – and there’s no word from Shelby either, so I twiddle my thumbs for a few minutes before deciding to quickly nip out to check on the animals. I know that Bev was in charge of the evening feed, but I like to say goodnight to all my boys and girls before bedtime. I realise that I should have thought of this before I changed into my ‘good’ clothes, but needs must and I’ll only be five minutes. I can’t get dirty just looking at animals.
I shout out to Lucas, ‘Back in five!’ and pull on my waxed jacket and my welly boots. The temperature has dropped again and as I step out of the warmth of the caravan, my breath billows out in front of me in blousy white clouds. The inky sky is studded with a mass of stars. Who needs Christmas decorations when you’ve got this?