Forked Roads Back

82 - ARCHIE

SIX YEARS AGO

AS TESSA BUCKLES HERSELF into the front seat, the back seat laden with buckets and small wicker boxes, I start the engine and back out of the driveway.

"How much has Millie asked us to get?" I ask, stopping as I focus on the expanse of boxes I see on the seat. There must be at least ten boxes, and they're not exactly small.

"Half of these," Tessa answers dutifully, making her guilty face. When I quirk my eyebrow she sighs. "Okay, all of them. She's in a jam phase and I just love her jam okay. I really want her to win."

I shake my head as I put the car in first and but smile as we pull off down the road.

Millie is taking part in a local baking competition in a couple of weeks time, and we've all been roped into helping, Matt and Andy included. Matt has even given up football this weekend, that's how important it is. Part of the competition is making your own original jam recipe, so that's what we've been tasked with today: buying out the entire crop of strawberries and raspberries.

"What are we doing in this process again?"

"Canning, I think. Whatever that means. I don't think Millie trusts anyone else with the actual making of the prize-winning jam," she giggles.

"Prize winning, eh?"

"Yes, it will be."

I smile. Millie's jam was amazing. Amazing enough to convert Matt into a jam lover after saying he's hated it for nearly seventeen years.

But as I focus on Tessa, and the fact she's looking at me, I smile wider, feeling my cheeks redden as she examines me.

"Your bruises have all gone." Her voice is soft and proud as she leans across and strokes my cheek gently. "I mean you're handsome whatever you look like," she quips, "but they're actually gone."

It had been a few months since I'd got out of the hospital but the bruising on my jaw had been so bad that those have taken a while to fade. But now, in March, they have finally gone. I'm still off football until I've got the okay from my doctor next week because of my ribs, but the rest of me is all healed and ready to get back to some sense of normality.

When I don't say anything in return, she shuffles sideways and puts her chin gently on my shoulder as I wait at the lights, turning towards Harlow. She kisses beneath my ear, the side of my neck and then my shoulder as she tries to comfort me. What happened with Dad will always be a hard subject to bear, but with her, I can.

Her touch gives me strength and comfort, because it has always been the small things with us. When we walk, it's a finger always connected, her legs in my lap as we watch the TV, my arm cradling them close. I can never get enough of her, and I feel like I never will. I've known this beautiful girl my whole life, and I still feel like I learn something new every day.

"I love you," I tell her, kissing her nose quickly before I set off again.

She smiles, her cheeks reddening, before she sits back in her seat.

"We don't come this way enough," she says when we've been driving for a few minutes.

"Yeah I know the countryside is epic around here. Nobody realises how close this is to the city centre. Forty minutes that way and you're surrounded by skyscrapers."

"It's just green. Field after field after field. It's beautiful. And I think it's what I'd like if we get a house together. A house in the country."

"What do you mean 'if' we get a house?" I joke. "Of course we will."