‘If they do call, we are here to help,’ smiles Lizzie. ‘If someone calls for any of you, we will decide if it’s a matter of importance strong enough to interrupt your healing process.’
The woman smiles and nods at Lizzie, visibly relaxing in the knowledge that someone else is taking the responsibility out of her hands. I’m not so sure I’d be so chilled about it if it were me, but then I haven’t got a single soul who’ll worry about me while I’m away other than the Warriors. Crap. I hadn’t thought of that. How am I going to keep them updated without an internet connection?
Ted stands and makes his way around the table, handing everyone a cotton bag and a paper luggage label. ‘Okay, before you all head back outside, please make sure that all of your gadgets go in here. We advise you to leave all of your valuables in these bags too. We can all trust each other here, but we can’t guarantee the safety of any belongings apart from those stored in these bags, which will be placed in our safe this afternoon and returned to you when you leave.’
Everyone starts to rummage in pockets and bags, placing items in the little cloth sacks before handing them over and heading back outside. I heave a huge sigh and place my wallet, mobile and iPad into the sack. I’m not wearing any jewellery, but I reach down, pick up my shoes and place them gently on top of the gadgets. Then a flash of inspiration hits. Glancing around me to double-check I’m not going to be overheard, I edge my way over to Lizzie.
‘Erm, I know you said you’d supply stock photos to protect everyone’s privacy, but as a reviewer, will I be able to keep hold of my iPad to take notes?’ I ask hopefully.
‘We’ve thought about that,’ she says with a smile and passes me a bag. I take a quick peep. Seriously? I’ve just been handed a notebook and pen.
‘There you go!’ She smiles at me triumphantly.
Damn. Well, I’ll just have to figure it out later. There’s bound to be a computer somewhere around here that I can sneak onto to send a quick message when no one’s looking.
Chapter 5
Go with the Flow
‘Isolation can cause you to overthink. Every single step of the day is inspected for anything that might go wrong. Ultimately, this can mean that you don’t take many steps at all. Learn to go with the flow, take one step at a time and set yourself free.’
©TheBeginnersGuideToLoneliness.com
*
The group ahead of me comes to a halt. We’ve reached a wooden cabin which sits in a small clearing at the edge of the apple orchard. The sight and the scent of the apple blossom is quite something, and we’ve all been wandering along, looking upwards with smiles on our faces. Smiling’s not something I was expecting to be doing quite so soon after being forcibly parted from my phone. But this really is beautiful.
The hut looks a little bit like a rustic woodshed, but, in comparison to a leaky tent, it’s practically a palace. In front of us are the remains of a little outdoor fire within a ring of stones, over which hangs a blackened kettle from a metal frame. Perfect, as long as you’re not after a quick cuppa . . .
‘Geoff and Doreen, welcome to your new home. I hope you’ll find everything you need for a very comfortable stay with us. There’s running water just around the side of the cabin.’
The woman with the perm and the fuchsia lipstick hurries forward to take a look around, her husband following at a more leisurely pace. Around me, there’s a lot of excited muttering and nodding. It’s clear that everyone’s looking forward to seeing their own quarters if they’re all going to be as nice as this.
‘Ted, it’s lovely.’ Doreen grins, coming to stand at the doorway after a quick scout around her new home. ‘One thing. Where’s the loo?’
‘Very good question. I always forget that part. See over there?’ he points off into the trees a little way. ‘There’s a little hut? That’s your toilet. It’s a composting loo. Just dump a handful of wood shavings in after . . . well . . .’
‘Dumping?’ provides Doreen, her perm quivering.
‘Precisely,’ Ted beams at her. A little titter runs around the group. I don’t see it as a laughing matter, frankly. What did I say about al fresco pooing?
‘Right, we’d better get going. Everyone needs to be settled in with enough time to spare before this evening’s session. You two get comfy. See you later.’
As we leave Doreen and Geoff behind, I somehow feel like I’ve lost my last link to the real world. Rather than gossiping with the others, I walk quietly, trying to keep my bearings while tuning in and out of everyone else’s conversations.
We soon head uphill and make our way through a patch of woodland. It’s a little bit like the newly planted woods we walked through earlier, but fast-forwarded by twenty years. The grass between the trees is gone and the ground is covered by a soft, leafy litter, dotted here and there with clusters of tiny flowers.
Soon we’re in a circular clearing with a fire pit at its centre, but there’s no hut to be seen.
‘Right, the three of you who’ve opted for the self-build option, this is where we leave you,’ Ted says. He looks over at the Beardy Weirdies.
‘There are only two rules. Set up more than fifteen paces away from the fire, and absolutely no felling of any live wood. I planted this woodland by hand over twenty years ago when we first came here. It’s my first love and anyone who damages it will feel my wrath.’
I force down a giggle at the thought of the smiley, slightly distracted Ted smiting anyone down with his wrath. It’s not an image that comes to mind readily.
Ted’s still glaring around, and he does briefly seem to lose his fuzzy, hand-knitted edges, but still, hardly the thing of nightmares.
‘There are plenty of stacks of seasoned firewood and brash piles for you to make your homes out of. Next to the fire pit, there’s a limited supply of rope and a few tools to get you started. I’ve marked the site for your bog over there. I didn’t want you to accidentally come across the one from the last group! Have fun, guys. See you later.’
Next we drop Moth off at a campsite, where there are already a couple of tents pitched, followed by Emma and Sam at their eco-build cabin. Finally, I’m left on my own with Ted.
‘What if the weather changes?’ I ask. It’s something I’ve been wondering about as we’ve been walking. ‘What will those guys in the wood do if it gets bad?’
‘The closeness to the elements adds a deeper note of connection to the soul for those who choose to look for it.’ He clears his throat and I see him glance sideways at me. ‘We’ve found that if the weather gets really bad, everyone makes very good friends very quickly, as the loan of a cabin floor becomes rather sought after.’ He grins at me, eyes twinkling, evidently aware of the mischief that these sleeping arrangements can lead to.
‘Now then, let’s get you to your abode.’
‘Great,’ I reply lamely. I’ve still got to meet my roommate, and I’ve got a knot of anxiety building in my stomach.
‘It’s a big space, and can easily be divided up by hanging some sheets if you need to.’
‘Great, that’s great.’ I seem to have got stuck on a loop.
We come to the top of a little rise and I spot it: my home for the next three weeks. I let out a breath. I can handle this. It’s a large round tent with a domed roof covered in canvas. In front of it, a collection of handmade, wooden furniture sits around the obligatory fire pit.
As we approach, I spot another little hut some distance away. That must be the toilet.
‘You should find the yurt very comfortable. There are a couple of rules that come with living here, but I’ve got quite a bit to do before this evening – Lizzie can barely waddle at the moment! – so I’m going to leave you in Bay’s very capable hands.’
WHAT?
Ted turns and begins to head back in what I assume is the direction of the main house. I’m too shocked to say anything and so I just stare, open- mouthed at his retreating back, digesting this new piece of information. Bay? As in, the guy I’ve already managed to injure three tim
es?
‘Ted,’ I call, ‘did you say Bay?’
Ted swings around, looking anxious. ‘Yup. He said that he wouldn’t mind sharing, and as we had no more cabins left, it was either this or make you camp. We thought you’d be happier staying here.’
‘Is there no way I can stay in the house with you guys?’ I’m aware I sound a bit pathetic, but there’s no way I want to share with Bay.
‘Nope. Sorry. That would completely undermine the whole purpose of this exercise. This is perfect for you. Unless you really do want to camp? We have spare roll-mats, tents and sleeping bags . . .’
I can see his eyes twinkling, and for a second I’m tempted to accept, just to wipe the smile off of his face. But I can’t. Composting toilets and a tent? Not happening.
‘No, this is fine,’ I concede gracelessly.
‘Great.’ Ted twinkles at me, turns and continues on his way.
‘I promise I won’t bite.’
The new voice makes me jump. I swing around and see Bay’s head sticking out of the little front door flap of the yurt.
‘You’d better not, or I’ll sue!’ I shoot back. It’s meant to be a joke, but comes out of my mouth more like a spear. Bay doesn’t seem to care, though. He shrugs and gives me an easy grin.
‘Come on in and make yourself comfortable.’ His head disappears back inside, leaving me with no other option but to follow him.
*
Great. This is just great. No sooner have I got my poor little brain around the fact that I’m going to be sharing my living space with another human being, I find out I’ve got to share with a man. Okay, I’m an adult, I can get over that fact. But why does it have to be this man, who’s already made it clear that he finds me incredibly annoying, and . . .
Oh wow.
As I stick my head through the flap, my jaw drops, cartoon style. It is absolutely beautiful in here. The curved sides are made from a concertina of honey-coloured wood and the roof is held up with a hooped structure of the same stuff. The floor is covered by about fifty brightly patterned rugs. There are sleeping areas at either side of the space complete with two futon-style beds. In the middle of the yurt, there’s a squashy old settee with a low table in front of it.
‘Welcome to my humble abode!’ smiles Bay, noticing that I’ve let my guard down. ‘Your humble abode too for the next few weeks.’
I smile at him weakly, not really knowing what to say or do next. ‘Uh, thanks . . .’ I start, rather lamely. ‘Sorry, I didn’t realize I’d be staying with you . . . I mean . . . I . . .’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry,’ he cuts me off. ‘It was all a little bit last minute and this was the best solution.’ He smiles at me warmly and I just nod.
‘Ted said there are some rules?’
‘Sure. It’s simple really. Don’t wear outdoor shoes in here because of all of the rugs. A bit of chicken shit takes forever to locate. Don’t smoke inside. Don’t go to the loo inside. That’s about it. Oh, and preferably don’t wake the dog. He hates being disturbed.’
‘Dog?’ I squeak.
‘Ah. Didn’t they check that with you?’
‘Um, no.’
It’s not that I’m scared of dogs, I just have a healthy respect for them. I respect the fact that they’ll bite me if I go anywhere near them. When I was little, I begged Mum over and over again for a dog. I had no brothers or sisters, and it was just me and Mum in the house. I was desperate for someone to play with, and the idea of a furry friend took root in my imagination. That lasted until it got on my mum’s nerves and she decided to tell me all about the horrors of rabies, scaring me senseless with tales of infected dog bites and horrific injuries that needed stitches. All of her stories ended up with the dog being shot. I went off the idea pretty quickly after that.
‘You’re not just sharing with me, I’m afraid. You’re sharing with Dennis too,’ says Bay. ‘He’s usually a big softy, but I think he’s going to be a bit put out. See, your bed is usually his bed. I keep trying to get him off of it, but he’s stubborn like that.’
‘Oh great. So which one’s supposed to be my bed?’
‘The one with the great big dog on it?’ he smiles at me apologetically and nods to the far side of the yurt.
I hadn’t spotted him before because he is stretched out on a brown blanket and is so relaxed that he has moulded into the bed and has become a part of the furniture.
‘Dennis! Here!’ Bay pats his leg, but the dog doesn’t budge. ‘Dennis, don’t make me come over there!’ Bay lets out a sharp whistle, making me jump. Dennis deigns to lift his head. His piggy little eyes glance in our direction, his tail thumps on the blanket once and then he flops back down and appears to be asleep again almost instantly.
‘Ah, what can you do? He knows who’s boss here, and it sure as hell isn’t me.’ Bay smiles indulgently and shrugs.
Great. I’m going to have to do battle with a canine roadblock. This is hardly going to be ‘restful on the spirit’.
‘What kind of dog is he?’ I ask, not because I’m that interested, but because it seems like the polite thing to say.
‘English bull terrier. Beautiful, isn’t he? I couldn’t resist that much attitude piled into one dog. Anyway, make yourself at home.’
I smile tightly at him, cross over to the bed and stare down at the unwelcome guest.
Correction: I’m the unwelcome guest.
He’s a chunky mish-mash of brown and white splotches, with a bent snout and funny little eyes.
‘Bay, why don’t we just swap beds? At least then you’ll be sharing with someone you know,’ I say hopefully.
‘I can’t sleep on the west side. Sorry.’
‘Oh. Um. Okay.’
‘It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll make sure he gets down when you want to go to bed. He’s house-trained, you don’t need to worry about that. And he’s been in the river today, so he’s fairly clean.’
*
I dither around, wondering what exactly I’m supposed to do until the mythical welcoming ceremony in a couple of hours. After the initial, obligatory small talk with Bay, we’ve both fallen silent. I don’t want to bug him. After all, I’m in his space and he’s probably far from happy about it, even though he has been pretty gracious so far.
Eventually, Bay makes his excuses, saying that he’d better go and help Ted get everything ready. Before he leaves, he checks that I’m going to be able to find my way back to the little courtyard behind the house in time for six o’clock.
After he’s gone, it’s a couple of seconds before I realize that, as well as telling a complete lie about knowing my way back to the house, my only method of telling the time was my phone. I hotfoot it back outside and shout after him.
Bay looks back at me, amusement dancing in his eyes.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how to get back down there?’
‘Of course not.’ I’m not going to give him any such pleasure. ‘You don’t have a clock in any of your stuff, do you? My phone’s in the safe . . .’
‘You don’t have a watch?’
‘Uh . . . nope . . .’
‘And I’m taking it that you can’t tell the time by the position of the sun?’ he continues, the corner of his lips twitching up into a half smile.
‘See previous answer,’ I huff.
Bay raises his arm and begins to fumble with the battered strap of an old-fashioned man’s watch. ‘Here, wear this. Look after it, though. It used to be my father’s.’
Before I have the time to register my surprise, he’s reaching for my hand and proceeds to gently fasten the worn leather around my wrist.
‘How will you know when it’s time?’ I ask, my voice all husky. I cringe. Oh, for heaven’s sakes. A little bit of physical contact and I’m all wibbly? Really?
‘See previous question,’ he shoots back cheekily, and sets off again.
‘Thank you!’ I call after him, but rather quieter than is necessary to actually reach his ears.
&n
bsp; As I turn back to the yurt, my mind is racing. I’m not used to random acts of kindness, especially not from a complete stranger whose home I’ve invaded. I gaze around, still trying to fathom how on earth I’m going to manage to share the space with Bay for a whole three weeks. We’ve got nothing in common and nothing to talk about. The last few hours of almost complete silence have proved that.
Maybe I should ask him if we can divide the space like Ted suggested earlier. It was an absolute nightmare trying to change just now without giving him an eyeful.
And then, of course, there’s the dog.
Shit! The dog! Dennis is still asleep on my bed, completely oblivious to the fact that his master has gone off without him. How could Bay forget him?
I dash back out of the tent to call Bay back again, but he’s long gone and nowhere to be seen.
‘Damn!’ I turn and stomp back into the yurt to face my newly inherited, rather hairy problem . . . who is now wide awake.
Okay, this is going from bad to worse. Or maybe not. At least now I don’t have to decide whether to wake him up or not.
‘Hello. Hi, boy,’ I croon, my voice wavering. I try to stay as still as possible, but he’s now regarding me with grudging interest through those piggy little eyes. ‘Hi, boy . . .’ I say again, edging one step in his direction.
The dog thumps his tail twice on the bedspread and, yawning widely, begins to pant, his tongue leisurely flopping out of the side of his mouth. He looks exactly like he’s grinning at me, and I can’t help but smile back. Maybe he’s not going to be so bad to have around after all.
Chapter 6
Finding Friends in Unlikely Places
‘Often we are guilty of having an inflexible image of what new relationships might look like, usually as a result of unconscious expectations that lurk in the mind, narrowing our chances of new and exciting connections before they’ve even started.’
©TheBeginnersGuideToLoneliness.com
*
‘Get off you idiot, get off!’ I yell, not sure if I want to laugh or cry. I quickly realize that I don’t have the energy or breath left in my body to do either. ‘Dennis, bloody well get off!’ I wheeze, pushing at him and trying to lever myself up off the multicoloured rug at the same time. He bounces straight back on top of me.
The Beginner's Guide to Loneliness Page 4