sunshine, beside this beautiful, shimmering lake. She thinks about having the time to read books and write – the time to think – the time to enjoy her friends’ company; and then she thinks about the alternative.
Things aren’t as straightforward for her as the rest of them. She has no parents to fall back on, no job assurances or promises of help in the family firm. The only person she has in the whole world is her sister, and Freya is busy now with her own life. But this place – this idea – would change everything. Compared to any of her other ideas for the future this place feels strangely solid and real and it comes with one shining promise she hasn’t dared to imagine up until now: Simon, for another twelve months.
As she considers his argument she feels excitement spark like a warm ember in her belly. She takes a breath. ‘I know I’ll probably regret this . . .’ she sighs, ‘but I’ll do it.’ She says it so quietly she’s not sure anyone will hear – but Simon is already spinning towards her, a smile breaking over his face.
‘Kat,’ he says. It’s just one word, but the approval in his voice makes the smouldering ember flare to a white-hot flame. ‘I knew you’d get it.’
She nods and tries to hide her smile.
‘Anyone else?’ he asks, looking around at the group.
Ben groans. ‘Oh you . . . with your persuasive tongue and your honeyed words. You know my dad will kill me, don’t you?’
Simon just shrugs.
‘And there’s not even any electricity. I mean, I don’t think I’ll survive without my record player and my vinyl. I might waste away.’
Simon just continues to stare at him.
‘But I suppose the job could wait a while, while we explore this hare-brained scheme of yours.’ He looks up at Carla and she tilts her head slightly. ‘Twelve months, you say?’
Simon nods.
‘Oh go on then,’ says Ben, ‘you’ve twisted my arm. I’m in.’
‘Me too,’ says Carla.
Kat smirks. They all know that when it comes to Ben and Carla, where one goes, the other follows.
‘Great. So that just leaves you, Mac . . . you’ve been very quiet over there. What do you think?’
They wait. Mac sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring down at his dusty trainers.
‘Come on, Mac, we wouldn’t be able to do it without our country boy ,’ cajoles Ben, putting on a terrible northern accent.
‘Yes, come on, Mac,’ says Kat, ‘you’re the one who brought us here. It wouldn’t feel right staying on without you.’
Mac looks at each of them in turn, peering at them through the shaggy curtain of his hair. He slaps at a midge on his arm then runs his hand across the pink stubble rash on his chin. ‘You’re all drunk,’ he says.
The rest of them just stare at him, fixing him in their gaze.
‘And it will be bloody hard work,’ he adds.
Still no one says anything. A wood pigeon calls from high up in the trees.
‘Christ,’ he says at last, breaking into a crooked smile, ‘it’s not as if I can leave you lot by yourselves, can I? You wouldn’t last five minutes alone out here.’ He gives a small nod. ‘I’m in.’
‘Good man,’ says Simon, reaching over and slapping him on the shoulder.
They seal the pact by clinking their beer bottles and drinking a toast and then, as the sun slowly begins to dip below the hills, they turn their thoughts towards the journey home, shaking out the rug and their towels and packing away the cool bag. Mac leads the way towards the dark copse of trees, the rest of them trailing at a distance, but Kat hangs back for a moment, standing at the water’s edge, reluctant to tear herself away. The light is almost gone now, the lake a deep pool of ink in the murky twilight. They’ve agreed to return in a week, when they have packed up their house, secured a few essentials and waved goodbye to their student home, but now that the time has come to return to the city she finds she can’t bear to go.
She hears the crunch of footsteps
Things aren’t as straightforward for her as the rest of them. She has no parents to fall back on, no job assurances or promises of help in the family firm. The only person she has in the whole world is her sister, and Freya is busy now with her own life. But this place – this idea – would change everything. Compared to any of her other ideas for the future this place feels strangely solid and real and it comes with one shining promise she hasn’t dared to imagine up until now: Simon, for another twelve months.
As she considers his argument she feels excitement spark like a warm ember in her belly. She takes a breath. ‘I know I’ll probably regret this . . .’ she sighs, ‘but I’ll do it.’ She says it so quietly she’s not sure anyone will hear – but Simon is already spinning towards her, a smile breaking over his face.
‘Kat,’ he says. It’s just one word, but the approval in his voice makes the smouldering ember flare to a white-hot flame. ‘I knew you’d get it.’
She nods and tries to hide her smile.
‘Anyone else?’ he asks, looking around at the group.
Ben groans. ‘Oh you . . . with your persuasive tongue and your honeyed words. You know my dad will kill me, don’t you?’
Simon just shrugs.
‘And there’s not even any electricity. I mean, I don’t think I’ll survive without my record player and my vinyl. I might waste away.’
Simon just continues to stare at him.
‘But I suppose the job could wait a while, while we explore this hare-brained scheme of yours.’ He looks up at Carla and she tilts her head slightly. ‘Twelve months, you say?’
Simon nods.
‘Oh go on then,’ says Ben, ‘you’ve twisted my arm. I’m in.’
‘Me too,’ says Carla.
Kat smirks. They all know that when it comes to Ben and Carla, where one goes, the other follows.
‘Great. So that just leaves you, Mac . . . you’ve been very quiet over there. What do you think?’
They wait. Mac sits with his knees pulled up to his chest, staring down at his dusty trainers.
‘Come on, Mac, we wouldn’t be able to do it without our country boy ,’ cajoles Ben, putting on a terrible northern accent.
‘Yes, come on, Mac,’ says Kat, ‘you’re the one who brought us here. It wouldn’t feel right staying on without you.’
Mac looks at each of them in turn, peering at them through the shaggy curtain of his hair. He slaps at a midge on his arm then runs his hand across the pink stubble rash on his chin. ‘You’re all drunk,’ he says.
The rest of them just stare at him, fixing him in their gaze.
‘And it will be bloody hard work,’ he adds.
Still no one says anything. A wood pigeon calls from high up in the trees.
‘Christ,’ he says at last, breaking into a crooked smile, ‘it’s not as if I can leave you lot by yourselves, can I? You wouldn’t last five minutes alone out here.’ He gives a small nod. ‘I’m in.’
‘Good man,’ says Simon, reaching over and slapping him on the shoulder.
They seal the pact by clinking their beer bottles and drinking a toast and then, as the sun slowly begins to dip below the hills, they turn their thoughts towards the journey home, shaking out the rug and their towels and packing away the cool bag. Mac leads the way towards the dark copse of trees, the rest of them trailing at a distance, but Kat hangs back for a moment, standing at the water’s edge, reluctant to tear herself away. The light is almost gone now, the lake a deep pool of ink in the murky twilight. They’ve agreed to return in a week, when they have packed up their house, secured a few essentials and waved goodbye to their student home, but now that the time has come to return to the city she finds she can’t bear to go.
She hears the crunch of footsteps
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