Dirty Daddies(71)

It’s all I can do to smile, anything more and the relief would come out in stupid tears.

Michael kisses my cheek on his way past to pour me a coffee. “You look cute in your sleep,” he says, and my words come back.

“I look cute all the time, even when I’m being a bratty little cow.”

“Keep on telling yourself that,” Jack says and pinches my nose.

I hitch myself up onto the stool between them and take my coffee gratefully. I don’t know what to talk about so I don’t say anything, for once in my life trusting my fate to other people.

I’m tired of guarding myself so hard all the time.

“What do you want to do today?” Michael asks.

I don’t think I’ve ever been asked that question before.

My answer is surprisingly easy to find. “I want to show you my fences,” I tell them. “I want you to see how great it is out there.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “The great outdoors. It’s been a while since I went out trekking.”

“It’s hardly a trek,” Michael says. “You have a few fields, not a national park.”

“It’s quite a few fields,” I tell him. “Plenty enough for a load of sheep and some goats, and maybe some ponies too.”

“Or plenty enough to let the grass grow just fine without them,” Jack says. “I’m hardly much of a farmer.”

But I am, at least I want to be. I really want goats and sheep and maybe some chickens. And ponies. Dogs, too.

I’m getting carried away but I don’t care. Anything feels possible here.

“Maybe Carrie can be a farmer,” Michael says and I smile to remember how well he’s gotten to know me over the months.

“Maybe I can,” I grin.

“Forget it,” Jack says. “One crow was enough.” But his eyes linger on mine, and I wonder.

I daren’t even hope.

“Right,” he says and finishes up his coffee. “You’d better get dressed, missy. I can’t wait to see your handiwork.”

That’s good, because I can’t wait to show it to him either.





Jack



Sheep and goats and ponies.

Fuck that.

I can only imagine the chaos if our sweet little Carrie had a whole menagerie to take care of. And yet the thought makes me smile to myself as we leap across the brook after her.

She’s so alive out here, our gypsy girl. Her wind-whipped hair flies wild and her cheeks are rosy pink. She’s nimble on the banks and quick over the fences, putting us to shame as she scrambles up and over in a flash.

She belongs out here. This land is more hers than mine, even though it’s my name on the deeds.

I make her wait for the praise, eyes like saucers as she watches me examine her new fence panels.

“Well?” she asks finally. “Are they good or what?”

I take a breath as though I’m about to deliver bad news, but Michael blows my ruse.

“He’s dicking about with you,” he says. “He’s impressed.”

“I’m impressed,” I admit. “You did great.”

My heart flutters like a fucking sap as her chest puffs up proud. “I told you,” she says. “It’s in my blood. It’s all in my blood.”

“Goats and sheep and chickens, too?” Michael adds.

She nods. “And ponies. And dogs.”

I tip my head. “Maybe a couple of chickens, for the eggs. You can clean the fuckers out though, they’re vicious.”

Her shock is intoxicating. Almost enough to tell her she can have the whole bastard farm if she wants it.

“Really?! I can have chickens?”

“A couple,” I say. “Enough for the three of us to have eggs in the mornings.”

I don’t realise what I’m saying until it’s out there in the air. Michael stares at me and I stare back, and Carrie stares between us with her pretty mouth open.

“I mean, when you stay over,” I add, but it’s too late for that.

I curse my big mouth when he doesn’t say a word, convinced that this may be the straw that breaks his sensible back and sends him running back to normality.

But it doesn’t. Credit where it’s due, the guy is adapting much more readily to all this than I thought he would.

“I like eggs,” he says. “I could be persuaded to muck in with the shit-shovelling if there was a hot breakfast on the other side of it.”

“Deal,” Carrie says.

I start walking before I can say anything else dumb, skirting the edge of the field as they follow behind, checking out Carrie’s hard work until I come to the spot on the bank that she must have taken her slutty selfie from. I recognise the tree down below, the line of hedge running off to the right.