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1
Welcome to the Farm of Despair
“What is this place?” I mutter to myself.
I navigate the car past a big concrete barn next to an outbuilding a gust of wind could knock over. Since turning off the main road up from Belfast and on to this one-lane, pothole nightmare, there hasn’t been a single sign with directions. The GPS on my phone isn’t much help – connection is fickle at best up here on the north coast.
“Dad! I see a cow!”
The corner of my mouth tugs for a second at the excited voice from the backseat.
“Yeah?”
I want to give Adam my full attention, but I’m still trying to find an elusive sign telling me I’m in the right place, but there’s nothing. I must have passed the entrance. I swear under my breath and turn down to the right between two farm buildings so I can reverse and double back.
That’s where I see it, the sign.
“Reception” is written crudely on an A4 page stuffed in a poly pocket and stuck on the wall with duct tape.
“Wow. Impressive.”
I sigh and park up. I guess I can’t expect much more for fifteen pounds a night.
“Can we go see the cow?” Adam asks as I unbuckle his seatbelt and lift him out of the car and into my arms. At four, he’s more than old enough to walk himself, but he’s been clingy since I moved out. And truth be told, I need him to need me – what else is there for me but my son’s love?
“We have to check in first, buddy. There will be plenty of time to see the cows,” I promise.
The door to the reception is open – if you could call it a reception. The makeshift desk is a foldable picnic table. Brochures and paperwork surround a laptop. A hand-drawn map is all that’s up on the grey concrete walls. And at the far wall? A small ice cream freezer.
For the second time in a few minutes the corner of my mouth tugs. I don’t smile often these days, but the sweet, round jean-clad ass sticking up in the air while the whole of the torso is in the freezer is kind of funny. The person lifts up on the toes of their green wellies to get even deeper.
“Ah, there you are, you little devil,” echoes from the belly of the freezer.
Adam slams his tiny hand over his lips to stop his giggle.
The torso slowly emerges over the edge, a narrow waist, then brown hair in a thick ponytail tumbling down their back, almost touching that nice round ass. Arms appear last, one of them holding a cone-shaped ice cream. The lid of the freezer slides shut, and the person turns.
And screams.
Adam’s giggle breaks through his fingers and I try to hide my grin.
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you,” I tell the girl.
“Oh, you didn’t, I, um…” Her cheeks turn a charming tone of pink and her ice cream-free hand pushes some loose strands of hair behind her ear. Clear blue eyes meet mine, fleetingly, before she hurries behind the desk. “Are you here to check in?”
She’s not a girl, I realise as I see her in profile. Her tempting curves are those of a woman.
A woman much too young for me.
“We are indeed.”
She places the ice cream on the desk.
“What’s the name please?” She glances up at me through her lashes and I can’t avoid noticing that her gaze travels down the length of me. I straighten, hiking Adam higher up on my hip. When was the last time anyone checked me out?
“It’s Jamie Carson.”
A few clicks on the laptop. A few more clicks. Shuffling through some papers. Back to more clicking. The pinch of her eyebrows would have been cute if it wasn’t my booking she’s desperately searching for. She’d better not have lost it. I can’t spend the next two weeks trying to entertain a four-year-old in my cramped apartment that is hardly a step above a bedsit.
