‘Hey.’ Isaac came to join me a while later. The garden was now a kaleidoscope of shadows, rimmed with the yellow glow from the windows behind us. With the sun now lost below the other side of the hill, there was a distinct nip in the air, and I gratefully accepted the blanket my brother offered, along with a mug of coffee.
‘That chair is covered in bird crap,’ I said, about half a second too late.
He sighed. ‘These jeans need a wash anyway.’
His jeans were fraying at every seam, and not in a fashionable way. They needed tossing out with the cooker.
‘I’m kind of surprised,’ I said, after taking a moment to enjoy the coffee warming my throat. ‘You love things to be all sleek and shiny. I understand that you didn’t choose this old cottage, but, honestly, Isaac, I never expected to find you living like this.’
‘I really don’t think you’re in a position to judge,’ he said, with a flick of one eyebrow.
‘I’m not judging. You know I’ve lived in places far worse.’ I poked my hand out from under the blanket so I could take hold of his. ‘But I know how I ended up there. So that means I can’t help but feel a little worried about what caused my neat-freak twin to stop cleaning his multicooker.’
We stared into the shadows while I waited for a reply.
‘You worked in your boyfriend’s coffee shop?’
‘Until it closed. That’s why he’s gone travelling.’
‘So you can imagine how brutal it’s been with the lockdowns, all this madness kicking off only a year into a new event business. You’d think that having to cancel so often would have made less work, but it was the opposite. I spent two years hustling, and making rearrangements, while trying not to totally freak out that I’d walked away from a successful career into a catastrophe.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Every time I uttered those words they sounded hollower and more pointless. ‘I should have been there for you.’
He jerked his head, shaking off the memory. ‘We all had stuff to deal with. I wouldn’t have dumped mine onto you, when you were finally catching a break. If you’d have been there, I’d only have put up a front, and I didn’t have the energy for that.’
I knew exactly how that felt.
‘Anyway, you’re here now, which is awesome, and the Barn survived, so hopefully it’ll be worth it. My point is, something had to give. The last thing I felt like doing after yet another gruelling day scrambling to save the business was clean garden chairs. Or cook something that required more than cracking eggs into a pan. And I had it easy compared to Arthur. Can you imagine what being a funeral director is like in a pandemic, when families aren’t even allowed a decent goodbye? It crushed him, devastated his family. Losing ourselves in a competition where the biggest loss was points on a scoreboard was literally our way to survive.’
I had no words. Though when I shuffled my chair close enough to wrap my arms around him and press my face against his, the tears spoke for me.
Isaac reached up and placed his hand on mine, where I gripped his shoulder so hard I was fully prepared to never let go. ‘I know you’re right, though. You and Mum.’ He gently bumped his head against mine. ‘We’ve all got sort of stuck here, in survival mode. I’m still giving 80 per cent of my focus and energy to Robin Hood’s Barn, 19 to the cup and a measly 1 per cent to everything else. Including that lunch, which was woeful.’
‘The hash browns were perfect.’
‘They were. It’s maybe time, though. Probably well past time, to start redressing the balance. Start caring about not sitting on crap.’ He paused. ‘I don’t know how to let go of it, though. It’s as if I’ve been walking this tightrope, carrying all this baggage for so long that if I try to let any of it go, it’ll all come crashing down, bringing me – and Mum and Dad – with it.’
‘I know how hard it is to find the courage to make changes, when all you can remember is how to grit your teeth and get through each day. But you’ll figure it out. My advice?’
‘Wash that cooker?’
‘Brother, you know me so well.’
6
Monday morning, I knocked on the Barn Day Centre office a solid minute before 8a.m., surprising me almost as much as my parents. When life is spent rebounding between active self-sabotage and pretending not to care about anything, punctuality drops way down the priority list. I’d only avoided getting fired from the coffee shop because the manager had had a massive crush on me.
‘Jessie.’ Dad beamed, pushing back from his desk. ‘You look raring to go!’
I wouldn’t go that far, but I was looking forward to the distraction of a new challenge, and determined to give him a genuine reason to be proud of me for once.
‘You look perfect.’ Mum put down the file in her hand and came to give me a hug.
It hadn’t been easy, hunting through my meagre wardrobe for an Activities Coordinator outfit. The ripped jeans and baggy shirts I’d worn to serve coffee and croissants wouldn’t cut it for what felt like my first ever grown-up, professional job. In the end, I’d gone for a strappy summer dress with a cream turtleneck underneath, added tights for modesty and a pair of brown brogues. Having hurried the half mile to the Barn on what must have been the hottest April day on record, coupled with a building set to a temperature designed for the frailest of frames to be cosy, I could already feel a trickle of sweat running down my back.
After a celebratory cold drink and doughnut in the office, I had a tour of the building. I’d seen photos on the website, but being here in person, in this amazing space my family had created, took my breath away.
First stop was the main hall, designed to easily convert into the main wedding reception venue on weekends. One wall was entirely made of glass, which, along with several skylights, gave the impression that we were almost outside. It was bright and spacious, and not how I imagined a day centre would be. There was a retracting wall at one end where equipment could be stored out of sight, and a light-up dance floor.
