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‘Absolutely not. I’m going back down south tomorrow to pick up where I left off. Turns out I’m quite good at this whole construction thing. Christopher’s looking at other sites in the area, so it sounds like I’m going to be busy.’
‘I hate to rain on your parade, but I assume he’ll be replacing Deborah with someone. What if you don’t get on with them?’
‘I reckon it will be OK. I already know who it is.’
‘Oh, yes?’
‘Abby, his daughter. She’s really nice, and she’s coming down for a few months to get some experience of what happens on site. I think we’ll get on just fine.’
‘And what about Noah? Have you talked to him?’
‘No, not yet. I’ve sent him a message, but he’s obviously busy.’
‘How do you think he’ll feel about seeing you again, after you fled?’
‘According to Christopher, he’s still keen, so I’m pinning my hopes on that. He and John, the head chippy, organised a walkout in protest at my dismissal.’
‘Really?’
‘Yup. That doesn’t sound like he hates me, does it?’
‘One final question. Are you sure this is what you want?’
‘Yes, definitely.’
‘Then I’ll cross everything for you.’
‘Thank you. I’ve also got some other news, actually.’
It’s over an hour later when I leave her house, having filled Ava in on Lee’s fall from grace. She was absolutely delighted, and completely unrepentant about sending in the recording, although I am still a little conflicted about it. Her view is that he got everything he deserved, and hopefully he’d learn some important lessons from his experience. Thankfully, Mum and Dad are a bit more positive about my reinstatement than Ava was, probably because it meant I’d stop moping around their house. I’m loading up the car in preparation for the journey tomorrow when my phone finally pings with a message from Noah.
Are you coming back then?
OK, so not as ecstatic as I’d hoped. My spirits drop a little as I type out my reply.
Yes, tomorrow.
The ticks go blue straight away and I can see he’s typing, but I’m now consumed with doubt. What if Christopher read the situation wrong, and Noah doesn’t want to see me after all? Maybe the walkout wasn’t anything to do with me. Maybe it was just a general protest against Deborah. His reply, when it arrives, is cryptic.
Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Now would be a good time…
How am I supposed to respond to that? After a good ten minutes of indecision, I decide to go all in and tell him the truth about how I feel. If he rejects me, that’s probably no more than I deserve.
I love you.
His reply is immediate.
I know. I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow. xx
* * *
The contrast between my first journey south and this one couldn’t be more marked. Where I was uncertain then, and everything looked unfamiliar, I feel like I’m coming home this time. The closer I get to Ashford, the more impatient I feel, and I have to keep a close eye on the speedometer. I’m practically howling with frustration when I get stuck in a long queue to pass an accident that’s been moved to the hard shoulder, but I eventually reach the site a little after three. I’m so hyped up that I manage to get my hi-vis vest in a tangle, and I lose a couple more precious minutes sorting it out, before I march up the site towards the office.
‘Wotcher, Carol. Nice to see you back!’ John calls from the roof of one of the Windsors, I forget the number.
‘Thanks, John. Do you know where Noah is?’ I yell back.
‘He’s at the show home. Apparently, one of the punters used the bog in there. The water hasn’t been turned on yet, so it’s causing a bit of a problem.’
