I snort. “Long day, was it?”
“Yes. Some of us have cleaning to do.” She winks.
“Have you got something in your eye, Mee?”
“Hmm?”
“Your eye. It must be sore for you to keep blinking like that.”
There’s a tiny silence and then she laughs. “No. It’s good. I’m good. This is all…” She makes a gesture that is nowhere near as subtle as she thinks, pointing at me and Hal. “Good. See you tomorrow!” And still grinning, she pulls out her sunglasses and heads for the shortcut through the woods.
I turn back to Hal, still standing there and probably very confused by Mira’s unsubtle comments. “Sorry about her. She’s just…Mira.”
“Don’t apologize. She seemed nice.”
“She is. She’s really nice.”
And leaving soon.
I push the thought away.
The west lawn is already scattered with picnic blankets as people settle in for the evening. The closest cinema is a half-hour away by car (even longer by bus) so even if the film isn’t that great, Barney’s summer screenings are always busy, with guests, staff and people from the village covering the grass. Another hot-dog stand across the grass is manned by Libby from the kitchens, who gives me a wave. There’s a little pop-up bar too, where the barman seems to be making cocktails for a crowd three people deep. Threading their way through the blankets and rugs are a couple of the other restaurant and bar staff, handing out red-and-white striped paper bags full of popcorn.
“Do you want a hot dog?” Hal looks longingly back at the stand behind us. Lunch was a long time ago, thinking about it. In fact, I should let Charlie know I won’t be back for dinner – I should have already, but my brother hasn’t exactly been taking up much space in my head. I tap out a quick message on my phone and hit send – and immediately get a bland Okay back, which probably means he’ll want to Talk About This later.
As long as he doesn’t want to talk about it now, that’s okay with me. I turn my phone off and stuff it back in my pocket.
Hal is still gazing at the hot dogs.
“I’ll get them.” I grab two hot dogs, smiling hello at the waiter who’s got lumbered with this shift, and hand one to Hal. He takes it – tucking the bag of popcorn he’s managed to get hold of under one arm. “So, we just sit, or…?”
I gulp down a bite of sausage. “Mmmph. No, not here – I know the best spot. Come with me.”
Still eating, we follow the line of the drive then veer left into the woods, stepping through dappled patches of shade and buttery late sunlight all the way to the black lattice fence that cuts between the trees.
Hal scrunches up the napkin from his hot dog, stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans. “Are you sure this is the right way?”
“There’s a gate up ahead – it’s fine. It’s just to keep guests from wandering too far into the woods this way and ending up in the sheds.”
“The sheds? What do you keep there?”
“My brother, mostly.” I wave away a passing cloud of midges. The narrow gate is padlocked, half-hidden by sprawls of collapsed cow parsley and beech branches, but it’s there. And thanks to Charlie, I have a key. “If we go through here, round the back of the lawn, there’s a great view of the screen from the edge of the woods.” The gate creaks as I push it open. Hal steps through, waiting for me to close it behind us.
“I’m guessing not all the guests get this kind of treatment?”
I step into the shadow of the trees, feeling the air cool around me. “Only the good ones.”
The place I had in mind is – thankfully – empty. As we came through the woods, I had a horrible image of walking out from the trees and finding Charlie and Felix already sitting there on one of the hotel’s big tartan blankets…But when we get there, we have it entirely to ourselves. Right at the edge of the woods, it’s partly screened from the lawns by a low hedge of box trees – short enough not to block the view of the screen but tall enough to mostly block the view of us.
It occurs to me, as I grab one of the blankets an enterprising member of the garden team has “borrowed”, rolled up and stashed in a bucket by the hedge, that it looks like I’ve deliberately brought us to a secret, secluded place. Did I mean to?
“This is awesome!” Hal beams as he flaps the blanket about, scattering bits of dried grass from the back of it. “How come nobody’s already sitting here?”
“Guests never notice it – it’s the hedge.” I point at the hedge. In case he doesn’t know what “hedge” means. “So it’s pretty much only the staff who come and sit here – and then they’ve either got to climb over the hedge or have a key. And not everybody does.”
“I’m glad you do,” he says, then folds himself down onto the blanket, looking up at me. “Popcorn?” He holds the bag out.
“Thanks.” I take a handful, and drop down to sit on the blanket beside him. “I’m glad I do too.”
Sitting down, I can hear the quiet chatter of everyone on the lawn, but I can’t see them. All I can see is the green of the hedge and the trees above us, the pale sky fading from blue into pink, the gold of the hotel, and the bright white of the screen, waiting to flare into life.
And Hal, fiddling with the ends of his fringe.
I can feel him sitting next to me. Even though there’s a space between us, every part of me can feel the draw, the pull towards him as he stretches his legs out along the length of the blanket, his face tipped towards the screen. When the projector starts up, I feel him shift, leaning forward as he falls into the film.
And without a single thought, I leave my world – Hopwood and all my history here and everything before it – and fall into it with him.
“Did you see the village?”
The light from the screen fades, and from the other side of the hedge, there’s a general packing-up-and-moving noise as everyone gets their stuff together.
“The village?” In the half-light, I can just barely see Hal’s frown.
“The village. In the film. It’s just down the road!”
“Wasn’t it in Devon? I thought…”
“Maybe it was meant to look like Devon, but I’m telling you – that was Castle Combe. There, Lacock and Wells – they’re used for filming all the time.” I tug the blanket, dislodging Hal, and roll it up to stuff back in the bucket. Mostly, I think if I keep moving, I won’t actually sound as tearful as I feel. Maybe coming to watch this wasn’t the best idea…
“You seem to know a lot about it,” he says, and his voice is smiling. I pick my way carefully back towards the gate. There isn’t really a path here, and in the twilight it’s much harder to tell if the things on the ground in front of me are branches or shadows.
I swing the gate open, holding it for him. “Not really. It’s just…okay, where did you grow up?”
“London.”
“Exactly. Then there’s no way you’re going to get it.”
“Try me.”
I lock the gate behind us, pocketing the key. “You see London in films and shows all the time, but when you live somewhere like this…” I wave a hand at the woods, at Hopwood, at the darkness settling in around us. “It’s just nice to feel like it’s important enough – even if it’s actually tiny and insignificant – for somebody to notice.”