I’d been making such good progress with the list that there weren’t many straightforward options left. It would need to be something big enough to concentrate my mind, but not so big I couldn’t do it soon. There was one obvious choice, but it was one of those items that seemed fun, cosy and romantic with a partner, but cold, scary and pointlessly uncomfortable if tried alone.
I mulled it over as Nesbit and I weaved amongst the trees, stopping to admire the wildflowers or chew on an old pine cone, not at all accidentally ambling in the vague direction of Sam’s house. As we walked and soaked up the peace and beauty of the forest, I had to acknowledge that being out here was like a massage to my stressed-out soul. My breathing slowed, the anxious thoughts settled, and the tension in my stomach and shoulders gradually eased. By the time we’d completely failed to locate either Sam’s house or the path back to Bigley, I’d made my mind up. Once I’d passed the same picnic clearing for the third time, which thankfully turned out to have a tiny blip of internet connection so I could figure out the rough direction for home, I’d convinced myself that sooner rather than later was the time to do it.
Item seven: a weekend hiking and camping in Bigley Forest Park.
I spent most of my free time for the next couple of weeks planning and prepping for the big trip. While I knew one night in a tent less than five miles from home wasn’t that exciting to some people, it was a huge deal to me and I was unashamedly treating it as such. I couldn’t find anything online about whether camping was permitted in the forest park, so I did the next best thing and asked around (I would of course have loved to have asked Sam, but I didn’t have his phone number, he was nowhere on social media and it didn’t seem like a good enough reason to drive over to his house).
Jaxx, who had a Tuesday session that week, assured me that it was fine. ‘Everyone does it! Me’n the boys’ve had some mad weekends there. Bevvies and a tin of hot dogs round the campfire. Bigley tradition, innit. Hey – Nomato would go perfect on a hot dog. Here, take another sample.’
To my relief, he didn’t ask what I’d thought of the first sample, which had gone straight into the bin.
On Wednesday, Yasmin was horrified. ‘Why do you care if it is officially allowed or not? All I can say is, it shouldn’t be! Sleeping on the ground with no running water or electricity is not nice. This is why we have jobs and earn money, and come to countries where we can have a proper front door with a lock.’ She wrung her hands together, the scars a glittering, silver web against her skin. ‘Please promise me that if you do this foolish thing, you will not take Nesbit.’
Thankfully, before I had a chance not to promise, Trev arrived in his blue shirt, face glowing, head covered in a bandana made of fabric covered in dachshunds.
‘Tell her, Trev,’ Yasmin implored, once we’d said hello and Yasmin had wiggled up to make room for him to sit on her side of the table. ‘You are clearly a man who knows about these things. Please tell Ollie it is not safe for her to be taking a dog out all night in the middle of nowhere.’
‘We’ll be in a tent.’
‘Depends where you’re going, I suppose. In my experience, trouble rarely finds those who aren’t looking for it. And taking a dog seems like a grand idea. He’ll let you know if there’s anything prowling about. Or anyone.’
‘So, what, you put an innocent animal at risk when it has no choice in the matter, just so she can… ugh, I don’t know what she wants to do! I’m thinking that my English must be worse than I thought because you can’t possibly mean that you are choosing this, Ollie.’
‘I was thinking of camping in Bigley Forest Park next weekend,’ I said to Trev.
At least I had been, until someone mentioned things prowling about.
‘Oh, smashing!’ Trev grinned. ‘Used to go there all the time, before… well, you know. Me and my brothers would take our bikes. Sometimes a girl or two, if we were lucky. My brother and his wife still take the kids there if the weather’s good. Find a quiet spot, pitch up and watch the stars come out. Beautiful!’
‘Please tell me you are joking because I thought you said that your brother makes his wife and children leave their lovely, comfortable, safe house with a television and a kettle and a toilet so they can lie in the dirt amongst the bugs for fun!’
Trev shrugged. ‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
Yasmin rubbed her wrists even harder, her eyes swimming with shadows. ‘I have tried it.’ She shook her head for a few seconds as if utterly bewildered, before abruptly lifting her chin, eyes snapping back to the present. ‘Right, time for me to go.’
‘You don’t have to,’ Trev blurted, before his mouth dropped open in horror.
Yasmin looked at him, puzzled. ‘I couldn’t possibly interrupt your session.’
‘Oh, well, I didn’t mean…’ Trev took off his bandana and used it to wipe his forehead.
‘Thanks, Ollie, I’ll see you next week. If you haven’t been mauled by a wild animal or caught some hideous disease from putrid water.’ Yasmin paused, her eyes glinting at Trev. ‘Nice bandana.’
Thursday evening, all thoughts of camping were hurled to one side when Leanne charged into the garden, slamming her back door so hard it rattled my teeth from the other side of the lawn.
‘You absolute bitch,’ she snarled, the trail from her cigarette like smoke from a dragon’s nostril.
‘Excuse me?’ It was the first time I’d seen Leanne since she’d cried with me last Saturday. It was as though that vulnerable, open version of my neighbour had been a temporary illusion.
‘I can’t believe I fell for your nicey-nice, “Ooh, I understand, Leanne, I only want to help, we all go through hard times, Leanne.” What a complete load of crap.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, of course you don’t.’ She took a long drag on her cigarette, before breaking off into a cackle. ‘You’re just a friendly, helpful neighbour! Not at all interested in poking around in my business so you can run straight to the phone with all the juicy gossip you found. As if our life wasn’t shitty enough, Miss Neighbourhood Watch has to chuck in a hand grenade. I mean,’ she scoffed, ‘I tolerated this weird little obsession with my daughter, put it down to you having no life of your own. I can even believe you’d get a nasty little kick from interfering, because you’re bored, and I don’t know, in some twisted way jealous of me having Joan. I’ve met people like that before. But to do this to Joan? To that beautiful child? The only thing stopping me from beating the crap out of you right now is because I won’t give anyone another excuse to take my daughter.’
‘Leanne, I genuinely don’t know what you mean. I haven’t gossiped to anyone about you.’
‘No? No secret little calls to social services from a concerned Bigley citizen?’
My stomach shrivelled into a cold, hard lump.
Certain that the guilt of all the times I’d thought about doing exactly that must be showing on my face, I jumped to my feet, flailing about for a response that conveyed the truth, but perhaps not the whole truth.