“Change of plan!” I haul myself up out of the door, moving my feet from the floor to the seat, and then onto the headrest, and then – carefully, because of course I would be wearing a dress for this, wouldn’t I? – up again and out onto the roof of the car. The metal clunks under my weight, but nothing disastrous happens – and a minute later, Hal’s bag, then his face, then his shoulders appear on the other side of the car and he pulls himself up to join me. I shuffle sideways to make space for him to sit, both of us resting our feet on the bonnet.
“You flooded my car,” he says.
“I think you’ll find that actually you flooded your car by driving into a river.”
“I thought you said this was a ford.”
“No.” I look at the water surrounding us for emphasis. “I think this really does qualify as an actual river.”
The current rushes past and around us. Through us, in the case of the car.
“I really didn’t think the water was that deep when I opened the door. Sorry.”
He snorts and waves my apology away, turning his face to where I can’t see. He doesn’t actually seem angry. I would be, if I were him.
And then I see his shoulders are shaking.
Oh god. I broke his car and I think I made him cry.
He wipes the back of a hand across his cheek, and I can see the tears. I did. I made him cry. I mean, not that it’s really my fault, but I do feel kind of responsible…
And then he drops his hands and turns back to me and he is crying…because he’s laughing so very, very hard. Tears are streaming down his cheeks and his eyes are pink; he’s trying to say something, but nothing’s coming out of his mouth because he just can’t get the words out past the laughter.
Instead, he holds out both his arms in a helpless look at this gesture, and his laughter is a river that sweeps us both away.
It doesn’t take long for the sun and the breeze up here to clear the worst of the cloud and dry our rain-damp clothes – and if it wasn’t for the fact we have become our own island, it might be hard to believe just how much it poured earlier.
“What do we do now, then?” Hal shades his eyes with his hand, looking up and down the road.
“We can wait for a farmer to come along with his tractor and yell at us for being in the way, and maybe tow us out, or I can phone Charlie.” I pull out my phone. The reception’s pretty bad, but at least I have some.
“How come you’ve got reception?” He peers over my shoulder at my screen as though he can’t quite believe it.
“Country phone, obviously. Didn’t you pick one up at the border?”
“Yeah, all right. I get it.” He shakes his head. “I could probably get hold of my breakdown service…”
“What, and sit here for four hours waiting?” (Maybe that’s not such a bad thought…) “Charlie’s closer.”
“Your brother won’t mind?”
“Probably. But he’s kind of used to me calling him to rescue me.”
Hal looks thoughtful. “You don’t seem like the kind of person who needs rescuing,” he says quietly.
I’m not sure how to answer that. I’m not even sure I’m meant to have heard it. So I make it obvious that I’m concentrating very, very hard on dialling my brother’s number (rather than just hitting the favourites button like I normally do).
Charlie answers after a couple of rings. “How’s Fallowmill?”
“Oh, fine. Fine, fine. Listen – I need a favour.”
“Mmm?”
“Are you out in the Land Rover?”
“Why?”
“We…” I look at Hal. “…slightly broke down.”
“You broke down?”
“Yes. In a ford.”
“How—?”
I cut him off. “And we really need a lift. And maybe a tow?” Beside me, Hal nods. “Definitely a tow.”
“Out of a ford?”
“Please?”
Charlie sighs. “Which one are you in?”
“Umm…the one on the edge of the King farm.”
He does not take this particularly well. He puts on his Older Brother Voice. “Flora.”
“Yes, yes, I know.”
“Do you?”
The car roof wobbles ominously as Hal tries to stand up for a better view. There’s a loud creaking noise – the sort metal makes when it’s really quite unhappy – and he sits down again quickly, wrapping his arms around his shins and pulling his knees up to his chin.
I make an executive decision to ignore everything Older Brother Voice implies. “You told me I’d enjoy this project – and you know what? I am. I really, really am.” Before he gets the chance to say anything else, I carry on, because I don’t want to have this conversation while I’m sitting on a car roof, and I definitely don’t want to have this conversation in front of Hal. “So, you know, you were right and I was wrong and the fact I’m actually saying that means that you have to be supportive now because I’m being self-aware and everything and that’s part of the deal. And also, you get to be smug.”
There is a very, very deep sigh on the other end of the line. And a bit of swearing.
“In the spirit of supporting you, exactly where are you in relation to the ford?”
I peer down at the water bubbling around the wheels of the car.
“Like I said, very, very in the ford.” The sound on the other end of the line might be laughter, or it might be swearing. It’s hard to tell. “Sorry,” I add, hoping that’s enough.
It must be, because finally my brother says, “All right. I’m on my way. I’ve got to drop some plants off, and then I’m coming. Five minutes, ten max. Just…stay put.”
“Yeah, I don’t think we can do anything else.”
I put my phone away. “Charlie’s coming. He’s not very sympathetic, but he’s coming.”
Hal nods. “You like your brother, don’t you?”
I picture Charlie, scowling and swearing in the driver’s seat of the Land Rover. “I do, actually. He’s a nice person. Not every big brother would have said it was okay for his annoying little sister to move in with him when their mum moved away. Lucky for me he did, really. Lucky for her too.”
Hal’s look is a question – but one he can obviously tell I won’t answer. So he asks a different one. “You couldn’t live with your dad?”
“No. He’s never been a part of us. Not really. He got married again after he and Mum broke up – apparently I’ve got a couple of half-brothers and -sisters I’ve never met. One of them’s only just younger than me.”
“Oh.”
“The way I see it, some people are just very good at compartmentalizing their lives. They finish one thing, they’re done with it. They close the door or shut the lid and they move on. My father’s one of those people.”
Hal doesn’t say anything but he nods. Something I’ve said must make sense.
He’s given so little about himself away, beyond what’s obvious. The clothes, the car…the hair. The fact he’s got money. But other than that, all I know is that he cares about his grandfather. That and he’s a city boy. Nothing real about his family, nothing about who he is. Only pieces of clues, tiny little fragments – like something seen through a keyhole.