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“Archie? Who is Archie?”
“A neighbour,” Zac said a bit sullenly. “I’ve been working on his farm for the last week.”
Had it only been a week? It felt like so much longer. Laurel hesitated on the step, wondering if she should stop eavesdropping and come into the kitchen.
“You’ve been working on a farm?” Laurel couldn’t tell if her sister sounded appalled or impressed. Perhaps both.
“Please, Mum. I don’t want to go back yet.”
“Fine.” Abby sighed. “Three more days. But then we really have to go.”
“Okay.” Zac sounded both relieved and disappointed; three days wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Laurel decided it was time to make herself known.
“Good morning.” She came into the kitchen with a smile; Zac was shovelling Cocoa Pops into his mouth and Abby was nursing a cup of coffee by the Rayburn, looking elegant but wan.
“Good morning.” Her smile was brittle. “Zac is insistent that we stay here a little longer, so we’ll leave on the twenty-ninth, if that’s okay by you?”
“Of course.” How could it not be? No matter what she felt about Archie, and she wasn’t even sure yet what, or at least how much, that was, Laurel knew her sister had to be her first priority. Their history, their relationship, the ties that had bound them for decades, were what mattered. Not a fledgling romance with someone she might never see again, as much as that thought hurt.
But, she realised, she still wanted—and needed—to see Archie. Talk to him. “Zac, are you helping out at the farm today? I can drive you, if you like.” Laurel thought she sounded casual enough, but she didn’t think she’d fooled Zac as he opened his mouth, closed it, and then nodded.
Laurel turned back to Abby, who was sipping her drink with that distant look on her face. “And then maybe, when I get back, we could do something? Go for a walk, or…” She let that thought trail off into nothingness.
After a long moment, too long really, Abby gave a little nod. That was something, at least. Laurel switched on the kettle, deciding she needed a hit of caffeine before she faced Archie and said—what? She didn’t even know.
Fifteen minutes later, they were driving down the bumpy, rutted track to Archie’s farm. Laurel pulled into the yard to the accompaniment of a chorus of barking that made her both smile and ache. She had no idea what to expect when she walked into Archie’s kitchen, except she was afraid she sort of did.
“Come on,” she said to Zac, and they both climbed out of the Rover.
As they headed towards the back door, Zac suddenly veered off towards the barn.
“Um, I think I’ll just go, uh, check on the animals.”
“What?” Laurel frowned at him. “Zac…”
“For, like, twenty minutes or so?”
A blush warmed her cheeks as she realised what he was doing, and not very subtly. How much had Zac guessed or even seen between her and Archie last night? The thought made her blush harder.
“Okay,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. “Thanks.”
Zac mumbled a reply and hared off to the barn, leaving Laurel to gather her courage and head into the kitchen.
“Hello…” She poked her head through the door of the kitchen, but it was empty save for Aon, Dha, and Tri, who, after their initial bout of barking, had returned to their beds. Only one of them, Laurel didn’t know which, raised his head from his paws before dropping it down again. They’d got used to her, Laurel realised, and the thought made her that unsettling combination of happy and sad.
“Where’s your master, guys?” she asked as she stroked their heads in turn, and then, unsure what to do, filled up the kettle and plonked it on top of the Aga. “Where’s he gone?” The kitchen had an empty, forlorn air—a pile of dirty clothes by the washing machine, a sink full of dirty dishes.
“I’m here.” Archie appeared in the doorway, dressed in his usual barmy farmer get-up—plus fours, wax jacket, welly boots, flat cap. Laurel swallowed hard. “I was in the barn, and Zac said you’d come in here.”
“Yes…”
“How is your sister?” He took off his flat cap and raked his fingers through his hair.
“I don’t really know. We haven’t talked much yet.”
Archie nodded. “It will take time.”
“Yes…” Why were they being so formal with one another? What had happened to the man who had cupped her face and kisses her breathless last night? Yet Laurel knew she wasn?
