Page 10 of The Fall I Fell

It never gets easier hearing him mention her. The pain of losing her is still as raw as it was two years ago. Each one of his words sit heavy on my chest, as though just the memory of her can suck all of the life from me until the idea of ever being happy again feels completely out of reach.

Grandad, though his voice cracks at the mention of her, continues, ‘And even if it does all go wrong – after you go away to your fancy school, if you don’t have a job, or you realise you hate it – even then you’ll always have a home at my farm. It may not be your dream, but you’ll always have a place to belong, even after I’m long gone.’ He takes his eyes off the track ahead for a moment to look at me with glassy eyes, and I know that no one has ever meant anything more in their life.

Unable to speak without the threat of tears falling, I rest my head on his shoulder like I did in this very tractor when I was younger, and he tenses a little at my touch before relaxing again into his seat.

‘Anyway.’ He says clearing his throat as though uncomfortable at his own soppiness. ‘I have a load of trousers and bits for you to patch up for me, if you would? I went down the pub looking like I’d been in a fight with a hundred moths the other day.’

I sit back upright to answer him. ‘Of course.’ My fingers already itch at the thought of getting back to the sewing machine. It was always Granny that did his repairs, so whilst I revel in the honour of being asked, I can’t help but feel that pang in my chest again knowing that she isn’t here to do it any more.

‘I never realised just how much your Granny did for me … everything feels like it’s falling to bits these days.’ His rare moment of candour breaks my heart a little more.

‘Well, we’re here now. You haven’t got to worry about holes in your trousers any more.’

Before either one of us can be even more uncharacteristically mushy, Grandad pulls up to the orchard trees and kills the engine of the tractor. ‘Gotta get these apples and pears in before the birds get to them,’ he mumbles and we both hop out of the cab and harvest the fruit without another word.

Grandad doesn’t work to the standard clock, or even the phases of the sun. No, for as long as I can remember, he has worked to the sound of his stomach. So, on its first grumble at 8:47 a.m., he sets downs his tools and announces that we must return home for breakfast.

Once all of the crates of apples and pears are filled and loaded into the trailer, we both climb back into the cab to head back to the farm. But with one cough, and a few grinding splutters, the tractor doesn’t start.

‘Don’t worry, she does this sometimes.’ Grandad persists for a few minutes, still insisting that a whack on the steering wheel and the flicking of a random buttons will make her kick back into life.

He only gives up hope when another audible growl of his stomach echoes around the cab. With a huff, he opens a little side compartment and picks up an ancient-looking phone. Several buttons have been taped off so he’s in no danger of pressing the wrong ones.

‘You know how to text?’ I joke, though I’m still a little dumbfounded. I’ve never seen him use any technology more advanced than his microwave until now.

‘Not really, but the boys at Hope Farm got me this phone last year so I can call for help if I get myself in a pickle.’ The mention of ‘the boys’, and knowing who is included among them, makes me swallow hard, but I don’t linger on the feeling too long. They’ve bought my grandad a phone. Granted, it looks as though it’s been found in an archaeological dig, but that means they’ve been looking out for him.

A little guilt wedges itself between the warm feeling that thought brings. It should have been me here, helping him, keeping him afloat. Every year, he had Granny, Callum and me to help him, and yet, when he lost Granny, I neglected him too. Too clouded by my own grief, I never even stopped to think about the farm, or how Grandad would be working himself to the bone doing the work of the two that left him behind. I’m just glad that the Thorogoods are better people than I could even think to be.

Basking in the September sun, I climb out of the cab and sit at the bottom of the apple tree as Grandad hits various parts of the tractor with his cane, waiting for whoever he called a few moments ago.

Before he can do any more damage, a truck rumbles in the distance. ‘About time,’ Grandad grumbles as he walks up to meet his saviour.

The dark flat-bed pulls to a stop. The window rolls down and an arm leans over the door. ‘What mess you got yourself into this time, Harry?’ The voice is rough, deep, but just barely recognisable.

‘Jacob?’ I can’t stop myself from springing to my feet to catch a glimpse of him for the first time in so long. I should act unbothered – cool, calm, collected – but something about him makes me throw all sense of ‘should’ out the window.

He looks almost the same – the same shaggy, messy hair, stained clothes, and deep dark eyes that are framed by freckles. And yet, he’s grown. There’s something distinctly masculine about him now, no trace of boyhood left on his face, with his jawline sharper than ever and splattered with a covering of stubble.

I thought my heart would race, or I’d go into a sweating frenzy at the sight of him. But strangely, I feel nothing but careful anticipation, almost as if all of the turmoil of expectation leading up to our meeting has melted away. It’s like my body suddenly remembers that it’s home.

Without missing a beat, he opens the door and comes to greet me at his full height. Now he well and truly towers over me in a frame that seems to have doubled since the last time we met. ‘Kitty.’ He says my old nickname so casually, as if pointing out a landmark on a long drive, and it knocks the wind out of me completely. No one has called me that for so long.

‘I didn’t know you could drive,’ is the only thing I can think to say as I look up at him. All I see reflected is ten years of adventures with a friend, and I settle into a version of myself that feels more like me.

He watches me so closely, not once flinching away at the intensity of our meeting or even seeming ruffled by any memories. ‘You’ve missed a lot.’

Chapter 6

Ten years ago

I still remember the day he gave me that nickname. It was the same day he got his. The first day we were all invited to Hope Farm for Sunday Dinner.

‘Right, you two, straighten yourselves out.’ Granny fussed around us in the kitchen. ‘We’ve never been inside Hope Farm. You know how much of an old grump Mr Dixon was, and no matter how many times I hand delivered him some of our hen’s eggs, he never so much as invited me in for a cuppa. Mr and Mrs Thorogood have been kind enough to ask us over, so the least we can do is look presentable.’

Granny licked her thumb and swiped it across a smudge of dirt left behind from another afternoon in the treehouse with Jacob. In those last couple of weeks, the mud had become my second-best friend, after Jacob of course.

Each day, Callum and I met the Thorogoods at the treehouse. Then Alfie, Will, Callum and Lizzie would disappear off into their battles and jousts, sometimes playing knights of the round table, other times pretending their sticks were light sabres, and Jacob and I would sneak away. We collected bugs from all around the farm to introduce to our bug hotel. We’d fashioned it together from bits of old wood from Grandad’s shed. I didn’t want to touch the worms at first – their lack of faces had always freaked me out – but Jacob was never scared of anything. He’d happily pick up any animal in need, whether a bird of prey, or a fox with a mean bite. He once had to rescue a badger from a trap, and her mode of thanks was to attack his ankles when he set her back down, but Jacob never even flinched, just understood that she was afraid and in pain, and simply shepherded her off into the woods. He was the bravest boy I knew, so I too, was learning to be brave. After a few days out with Jacob, I stopped crying every time I fell over, my knees were torn and scarred from hopping across streams, or crawling through brambles. I wasn’t afraid to follow Jacob anywhere, and soon, I gained the courage to lead him too.