‘If that’s the case, you’ll politely ask Tilly to have a word and you’ll come over here, we’ll race the quad bikes through the swamp and you can shout and swear until you’ve got it all off your chest.’
I smiled at him gratefully. ‘You’re on!’
The quad bikes were perfect for when it all got on top of me and I’d probably need to take Barney up on the offer after I raised the issue with Tilly. And if I discovered that she knew about it or, even worse, had been actively encouraging it, it would take a lot of racing through the mud to calm me down. She’d promised me I’d always be Daddy and I expected her to stand by that promise. Mind you, she’d promised me she loved me and couldn’t wait to marry me. Tilly didn’t have great form for keeping her promises.
‘She’s looking great,’ Amber said as we leaned against the paddock fence watching Imogen riding Munchie a little later. ‘Has she said anything more about wanting lessons?’
‘No. She seems to get that I can’t take her each week because of work, and Tilly can’t spend every evening ferrying them all around.’
‘Any news on the promotion?’
I told Amber what I’d shared with Barney earlier and my worries about what an impending restructure could mean for me and Imogen.
‘I’m so sorry, Joel. I know uncertainty can be frustrating but, in my experience, it’s not worth wasting your energy on. You can’t change or influence what’s happening so best not to fret and just take it as it comes. If it’s good news, great. If it’s bad, then you can deal with it and we’ll all be here to support you.’
‘I appreciate that.’
An easy silence settled on us for several minutes as we watched Barney explaining something to Imogen and her nodding.
‘Did you always want to work in a factory?’ Amber asked when Imogen set off on Munchie again.
‘Does anyone?’ I said, laughing. ‘I think it’s one of those jobs you fall into rather than have as a career destination. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after college so I took a summer contract at the factory to earn some money and hoped inspiration would strike. Sixteen years later…’
‘What did you do at college? I don’t think I’ve ever asked.’
‘Catering and hospitality.’
‘Oh! That would explain why you’re such a good cook. You didn’t want to pursue that?’
‘I did originally, but it went a bit wrong. My dad and uncle used to have a restaurant and I had a part-time job there since I was twelve, starting on pot wash and working my way up tobasic food prep. The plan was for me to work there full time after college and the long-term big plan was to take over when they retired. But in the summer between the two years at college, I worked there full time as a junior chef and it was a nightmare.’
I shuddered as I thought about it.
‘Dad and Uncle Alvin had worked brilliantly together for years and they’d been fine with me working there part time but something switched when I stepped up as junior chef. Dad was really hard on me and I felt like I couldn’t do anything right. He wasn’t interested in hearing new ideas and shouted me down all the time. Uncle Alvin thought he was being unfair and called him out on it so they clashed and I hated being the cause of a rift, so I left to save the restaurant and my relationship with my family. I loved cooking – still do – but the experience completely put me off going down that route.’
‘I’m so sorry, Joel. That’s such a shame. Would you consider it now?’
I shook my head without hesitation. ‘I’d enjoy the cooking and I’d particularly enjoy creating different dishes – experimenting was always what gave me a buzz – but I’d need to work evenings and weekends so I’d be in the same predicament I am now.’
‘Good point. Anything else appeal? If you didn’t need to worry about the money and you could work hours that suited Imogen, what would your dream job be?’
‘I honestly don’t know,’ I said after pondering on it, ‘but I’d love it to involve some time outdoors. After working half my life in the depths of a windowless factory, spending just a small part of every day in the fresh air – even in bad weather – would be an absolute dream.’
‘Something will present itself,’ Amber said, nudging her arm against mine. ‘I think this is going to be your year, Joel Grainger.’
I wasn’t sure I bought into the whole fate and destiny thing, but I would appreciate things going my way for once.
‘You should do some manifesting,’ Amber added.
I raised my eyebrows at her. ‘Some what?’
‘Manifesting. You must have heard of it. It’s the idea that you can turn a goal into reality through positive belief.’
‘You mean if I believe I can win the lottery, then I’ll win it?’
She laughed. ‘Maybe not that extreme but it’s about having a positive mindset and being optimistic because, when you approach something with a negative outlook, it becomes an obstacle. When you applied for the production manager job first time around, did you believe you could get it?’
‘Not a chance.’