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She turns in a small circle, stepping around some more bushes. “You know, these are common hedgerows. You can cut all these down, they’re not unique and the island is full of them.”
“I know.”
“So, the resulting space would be large enough for…” she looks around then glances up at the sky. “I think I’d love a large decking are where I could sunbathe. It’s really private here, so in theory, someone could sunbathe topless.” She thinks for a little, and a dreamy look comes into her face. “And at night, it would be nice to look up at the stars. The island must get a lot of tourism because of their night sky, so if your deck had some cushions to lie back on, someone could spend the night sleeping under the stars. Very romantic.”
“It might be cold to sleep out all night in the open… Unless…”
“Unless?”
When I don’t answer right away, she adds. “You can’t have these patio heaters because they have flames or halogen elements, and the glow would make it hard to see the stars.
“Heated rocks. Around the deck, they’ll keep the sleepers warm. I’ll install solar panels on every roof, on top of the glamping pods, and the energy can be stored during the day and used at night to heat special stone and rock formations arranged to look natural but would be nicely warm. Not in winter, but enough to take the edge off a night-chill in summer.” I continue talking, unable to stop the flow of plans. “This was always supposed to be carbon neutral, and Catcher Hill gets a hell of a lot of sun. Enough energy to power the chalets, the glamping pods and even have spare to donate to the neighbours.”
Elodie has already told me about the debts piled up because of Hedge’s utility bills. Personally, I can’t see how the bills were that high, for a man living alone. I’m sure my solar power will generate enough for Elodie to heat and power her house and her shop.
“What about this space here?” She points down to the next area that might be cleared.
I stop to consult the diagram and the maps. “A rock pool.”
“Where would you get water for a rock pool?”
“Remember your hidden stream? It runs under here. If I expose part of its path, dig up a section of the earth, we’d get a fantastic little pond for wild swimming.”
She gives me a confused look.
“You know, fresh-water swimming? Basically, it’s a growing trend for swimming in cold natural water, rivers, and ponds. There’s even room under that Cedar tree for a small hut with a sauna where swimmers can warm up afterwards. Ideal.”
Just a minute! Wasn’t I supposed to be arguing against this crazy idea?
Despite my best effort to remain sceptical, my brain, keeps coming up with plans. This is how you can tell a great idea, the harder you fight it, the brighter it shines.
And I’m starting to lose the fight.
Do I grab this incredible opportunity to finally be a creative architect, to make something amazing? When else would I get such an opportunity, such a perfect canvas to make something truly beautiful and unique? On the other hand, What about the risk? It could be that I’m indulging my own ambition at the cost to my family’s future security. The plan that brought me here last February.
I shoot Elodie a quick glance, but if she’s aware of my internal struggle, she says nothing.
The thing about Elodie is that she doesn’t push. All my life, I’ve been surrounded by people who want me to think like them, to agree with them. Mum, girlfriends, even work colleagues. And I’ve gone along because I haven’t known what else I wanted and never told them how on the inside, I chafed. So deep inside, even when I wasn’t aware of it, I rebelled. Men often talk about freedom, most of my friends and colleagues complain about being tied down. Commitment never bothered me, it’s the internal freedom that I missed.
Not Elodie. Despite having more ideas than anyone else, she stands back, says nothing, and lets me find my own answers.
And it’s only by the shining of her eyes that I can tell that she agrees, whole heartedly agrees, with the concept of rock pool, solar panels, and private luxury romantic holidays.
It’s one of the things I’m starting to love about her. And that she doesn’t need to ‘take possession’ of me; she can just be my girlfriend, not my caretaker or advocate. She knows I don’t like her grandfather and doesn’t try to influence or change my mind even though I know it saddens her.
Girlfriend. My mind catches up with itself. I’d thought the word girlfriend unconsciously.
Is this what she is?
It makes me take her hand and hold it safe. She glances up and gives me her shiny bright smile and we hold hands for the rest of the walk.
An hour later, back in the kitchenette to make coffee, she says, “you can have the last of the croissants.”
I use a wooden toothpick to slide it out of the toaster. “No, this one is yours. You’ll be in the shop for the rest of the day and if I know you, you won’t take time for breakfast of anything.”
I like thinking about her needs because she’s my girlfriend. My girlfriend. And I don’t let myself think about how soon we’re going to have to say goodbye.
Unless I decide to do the big garden project, which will keep me here another six weeks.
