Page 41 of The Shape of Your Heart
When I come back in, she’s opened a can of coke. Coming over, she sits next to me as I bring up the sketch I’ve made.
‘This is my original plan. I’ve based it on your ideas – low density of tents, high percentage of wildness. If I went ahead with this, I’d test the soil and see if it needed nutrients. Then what I’d like is a mixture of wildflower meadows and prairie planting that would mean each plot felt secluded.’
She nods slowly. ‘I really like it.’
I go on. ‘I was thinking there needed to be gravel paths, in case of rain… but other than that, most of the land would be undisrupted. I’d put in solar panels, collect rainwater…’ I have to stop myself from getting carried away. ‘I’ve asked for some quotes for the tents and building materials. Once I have them, my plan is to do my sums and apply for planning.’ But I’m optimistic about that, too. With the eco-credentials of what I’m proposing as well as its low environmental impact, I’m hoping it will sail through.
Callie looks thoughtful. ‘My dad knows someone who works for the council. They’ve been friends for years. I could probably put you in touch if you’d like me to.’
‘That would be amazing.’ I can’t believe my luck. ‘You’ve no idea how much it helps to talk to someone who knows the ins and outs.’
‘This is way better than your housing idea.’ Her eyes linger on me for a moment.
‘I’ll definitely employ local people. My only concern is how much money it will generate.’ I pause. ‘I’m trying to think of something that can run in parallel with it – the camping season is short. Ideally, I need it to make money all year round.’
She nods. ‘If it isn’t going to be about housing, there must be something else that would be community-based.’ She frowns slightly. ‘I’ll think about it.’ Then her frown clears. ‘And I’ve been thinking about it – what you said outside just now.’ Gazing at me, she smiles. ‘About being friends – it’s good.’
17
CALLIE
Having told Nathan we can only be friends, a feeling of relief settles over me. Until this sea of grief calms, being friends is simpler, undemanding; something I’m comfortable with.
That afternoon, after a shower and a change of clothes, I drive over to the hospital. Inside the small room where my father is, my mother’s latest obsession has taken root. Taking in the bags of wool and knitting needles everywhere, as I look questioningly at my father, he shakes his head at me.
My mother barely looks up. ‘I’m knitting you a sweater.’
Just then, Rita comes in. When she sees me, her face lights up. ‘I didn’t know you were coming.’
I hug her. ‘Are you staying long?’
‘For a couple of nights – just to keep an eye on these two.’ She says it affectionately, her gaze turning to our parents.
‘Someone needs to.’ I watch our mother busy with her knitting.
She frowns up at me. ‘You look nice. Are you going somewhere?’
I’m aware of everyone’s eyes on me. ‘I’m meeting a friend,’ I tell her, leaving them to wonder. ‘How are you Dad?’ Going over, I kiss his cheek.
His colour has returned and he sounds much more like his old self. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me. They need to send me home and give my bed to some other poor bugger.’
‘I’m sure they will when you’re ready. What’s this?’ I pick up the list that’s on the table next to his bed.
Rita raises her eyebrows. ‘That’s Mum’s list of knitting orders from some of the nursing staff.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with that. Young people these days don’t knit, do they? Perhaps I should teach them.’ My mother sounds businesslike.
‘Your mother’s set up quite a little cottage industry in here.’ My father rolls his eyes. ‘Still, keeps her out of trouble.’
‘Honestly, Stewart.’ She sounds disapproving. ‘You know how I feel about wasting time. At least I’m doing something practical with it.’
Catching my eye again, wisely my father remains silent.
‘I wish you were staying longer,’ I say to Rita.
I wonder if there’s something she isn’t saying when she asks me, ‘Why don’t I come to yours on Sunday night?’
With all the confusion in my mind, an evening with one of my sisters is just what I need. ‘I’d love that.’
