Life in the Land Read online

  He brought his hand up closer to his face so he could examine the seed that had refused to do his bidding. It wasn’t damaged in any way. Its smooth husk was intact, and there were no discernible dark marks or spots.

  He tried again, holding the seed between the finger and thumb of his right hand. The seed vibrated briefly before falling dormant again. With a growl of frustration, Robert shoved the seeds back into his pocket and slumped against the trunk of the tree. Arms crossed over his chest, he looked up at the canopy of leaves for an answer.

  The golden sparks stopped falling, but the tree continued humming, with no change to the tune or tempo. Robert closed his eyes, trying to listen for any explanation the tree might have for his failings, but nothing came. Shaded from the elements, the base of the tree made for a comfortable place to sit, and before he knew it, Robert drifted off to sleep.

  THE beam of the flashlight woke him up. Robert squinted at the figure that stood over him; he rubbed at his eyes to improve his focus.

  “It’s not the best place to sleep, Bobby.”

  “Mike?” The figure’s shape was right, as was the voice. “Is that you?”

  The answering chuckle was all the confirmation he needed. “Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s get you back to the farmhouse.”

  Groggy from his nap, he needed the helping hand Mike offered to get off the ground and stay upright.

  “I won’t ask why you think sleeping under that tree was a good idea,” said Mike, angling the beam of the flashlight so they could see where they were walking. “It’s probably one of the most normal things I’ve seen you do up here.”

  Robert wished the light was better so he could get a better look at Mike to see how the last few years had changed him. “I’m trying to get my mojo back,” he replied.

  “Your dad said you’d got caught up in something nasty.”

  “Homophobic attack on a club I go to. I just happened to be there that night.”

  “You’ve always had a great sense of timing.”

  Robert laughed, happy there wasn’t any awkwardness between them. “I heard your dad’s gonna sell the farm.”

  “Yeah,” said Mike quietly.

  “What you gonna do?”

  Mike shrugged. “I dunno. I came back after finishing my teaching degree to help my dad. I guess I could go and find a school to teach in.”

  “You don’t sound so keen.”

  “I am. It’s just, I’ve no experience, and schools’ budgets aren’t what they used to be.”

  They climbed over the stile, an operation that was harder in the dark, but the path on the other side made the journey underfoot much easier.

  “Schools by me are always after teachers,” said Robert, careful to keep the hope out of his voice. “Especially maths. You just need to get out of the sticks.”

  “Maybe. Or perhaps your dad’ll give me a job. Running the extra acreage won’t be easy.”

  “My Uncle Steven’s thinking of moving here.”

  “Oh.”

  Robert thought Mike didn’t sound too disappointed at the possibility that he wouldn’t be needed, but then again, he hadn’t exactly jumped at his veiled hints to move away. “Still, you’ve plenty of options,” said Robert, giving Mike a friendly punch to the arm. “World’s your oyster.”

  “Never been fond of oysters.”

  They were back at the farmhouse, the house lights warm and inviting, and he could see his mum pottering around the kitchen. “Want to come in for a bit?”

  “Best not—early start in the morning.”

  “Tomorrow then? How about a few beers in the Red Lion?”

  Mike hesitated for moment before saying, “Yeah. Okay. I’ll meet you there at seven.”

  Robert watched Mike walk away. He wasn’t surprised to hear Mike hesitate. As friends they would always have a history, but they’d shared their first kiss together, and that had led to nearly a year of being each other’s first at a lot more things. Although Robert knew he had good reasons to leave and Mike had grudgingly accepted them, there was unfinished business between them. And Robert would be lying if he said he didn’t want to see if they could be more than friends again.

  A NIGHT sleeping at an awkward angle in his childhood bed left Robert with a crick in his neck and an ache in his lower back. After a lukewarm shower—the best the farmhouse’s ancient plumbing could provide—he dressed and padded downstairs. It was only eight o’clock, but his dad would’ve been up for hours, walking the fields and giving encouragement to the crops on the run up to harvest, and his mum was in the kitchen.

  “Morning, sunshine!” She waved a teabag at him. “Cuppa?”

  “Please.”

  “And I know you won’t say no to a bacon sandwich.”

  “I’m no fool.”

  She laughed, and Robert felt relaxed for the first time in months, thanks to the lack of responsibilities and nothing to do but drink tea and be fed. He leafed through the local free newspaper. The differences in the type of articles between here and the city he lived in were reassuringly laughable. Instead of stories of knife crime and shootings, the hot issues were the success of the parish church’s bake sale and a rogue goose chasing pet dogs.

  “Your dad’s sorting out the cabbages and carrots today if you want to go and join him. Be good for you to be outside in the fresh air.”

  His mum had a way of making an order sound like a suggestion. “Sounds good. I’ll finish my breakfast and go find him.”

  Twenty minutes later, refueled by bacon and tea, Robert left the farmhouse. He played with the seeds in his pocket, trying but once again failing to get a response. His dad was on his knees by a water gully when he found him, his fingers in the mud and flecks of gold traveling through his hands into the soil.

  “Dad!” he called.

  His dad got to his feet, wiping the mud onto his trousers. “Nearly done here, Bobby. Fancy helping with the carrots?”

  “Not sure I’ll be much use,” said Robert. “I’m still out of juice.”

  “The tree didn’t work last night?”

  “Not yet.”

  His dad slapped him on the back. “Plenty of time. But you’re feeling better, right?”

  Robert thought about it. He’d been so obsessed by his lack of power that he hadn’t dwelled on how the rest of him was fairing. Gone were the lingering aches in his limbs, and he’d had his first uninterrupted night’s sleep since waking up after the explosion.

  “Yeah, much better. Almost back to normal.”

  “Heh, as normal as you get.”

  Robert laughed at his dad’s joke. “That too.”

  His dad had never been a great one for words, but Robert thought he always said enough at the right time to make his point. They left the field of cabbages behind, heading west into the adjoining field where he could already hear the rude exclamations of the carrots.

  “They’re lively today,” his dad said.

  “They’re always lively.”

  “Don’t want a quiet carrot—means there’s something wrong with ’em.”

  They walked up and down the planted furrows. Robert saw the carrots’ green feathery tops quiver in response to the attention. He watched as a sea of hazy gold rose into the air, and an indescribable feeling of being at home flooded his chest: perfect calm, a sense of peace that he so rarely experienced.

  His dad pushed him forward. “Off you go, Bobby. They ain’t doing that for me.”

  Just like when he was under the tree, the cloud of gold was made up of millions of little sparks. He sank down to the ground, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the field, and moving to his left at the complaint from a carrot moaning about being squashed by Robert’s fat arse.

  The gold mist enveloped him like sea fog: a dense, glowing cloud that veiled his eyes so he couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of his face. It was like being wrapped in a very fine blanket, woven from the lightest and fluffiest of wools. He could no longer hear the chattering of the carrots
, instead there was a stream of gentle humming. The same feeling of belonging from when he sat under the old oak the night before filled him, and his mind was quiet and tranquil, with no room for any negative thoughts.

  He was shaken out of his trance, the fog dissipating as quickly as it arrived. Disoriented, Robert stared up in his dad’s face.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah—I think so.”

  “Come on. It’s nearly four o’clock. Your mum’s mad enough about me not bringing you back for lunch. She’ll kill me if I go home without you a second time.”

  “It’s four o’clock?” added Robert, taken aback. He couldn’t believe he’d been sitting for more than a few minutes.

  “Yeah. Time flies when you’re bathed in gold.”

  ROBERT wolfed down two helpings of his mum’s stew, his stomach having finally caught on that it had missed lunch. Although he hadn’t had any further luck with the seeds, he was in a buoyant mood. And he knew the main reason for that came from his plans to meet Mike.

  Selecting clothes for the evening made him regress back to his awkward teenage years, until he managed to tell himself Mike wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about what he was wearing, and pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain T-shirt. He said good-bye to his parents and saw them exchange a knowing look when he told them where he was going and who he was going to meet.

  His dad had offered him a lift to the pub, but the half-hour walk appealed to him, giving him the chance clear his mind. The country road meandered on its way to the village, and the evening was dry, with a sharp crispness that heralded the start of autumn. It was a very pleasant walk, and Robert was only passed on the road by two cars and a woman on an ancient bicycle. It was so very different to the road he lived on in the city, where traffic could be heard at all hours and street lights blazed through the night so it never really got dark. Before he knew it, he was in the village. The shops around the green were closed, but the lights of the Red Lion shone out a welcome.

  Robert checked his watch; he was fifteen minutes early. He toyed with taking a quick walk around the village to see what had changed during his absence, but then that might make him late. He hated being late. He went inside the Red Lion and headed straight to the bar, casting a glance around to see if Mike was already here. He wasn’t.

  Pint of cold lager in hand, Robert sat at a table in the corner where the seats were padded benches. The pub itself hadn’t changed. Dave was still behind the bar serving a selection of local beers and generic lagers, and the closest thing to a bar menu was a choice of the flavor of crisps. The decor was a mix of murky colors and dark, varnished wood, and the carpet still had the same horrible pattern that was meant to hide the dirt. Robert was surprised to find he’d missed it, the Red Lion being nothing like the smart bars and modern pubs he went to in the city.

  From his seat, he could see the door, and he was taking a sip of his pint when Mike arrived. He looked good, fit and healthy, and his smile—when he spotted Robert—lit up his face in an achingly familiar fashion. For a moment Robert thought Mike was taller than he remembered, but realized it was Mike’s improved posture that caused the effect. And it wasn’t just his height that had changed; Mike had a new confidence that wasn’t there when he was younger. He hardly walked with a swagger, but the slumped shoulders of his adolescence were long gone and it painted a very attractive picture.

  Mike held up a hand and made the universal sign asking if he wanted a drink. Robert shook his head and held up his nearly full pint glass in answer. He watched Mike order a beer from a local brewery and exchange a joke with Dave behind the bar.

  Pint in hand, Mike walked over with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face. “Hiya, Bobby, you’re looking better in daylight than I was expecting.”

  “I forget it was your sweet-talking that made me love you,” he replied as Mike sat down.

  “That and I’m one of the few people who can stand to look at your ugly face.” They clinked glasses. “Seriously though, Bobby, from what your mum’d said had happened, I thought you’d be more battered.”

  “You should see my ribs. I’ve a really impressive set of stitches and some lovely bruises.”

  Mike took a sip of his pint. “What happened?”

  Robert sighed. He hated rehashing things like this, but Mike was always going to ask, and it was best to get the more unpleasant conversation topics over with.

  “Right place, wrong time,” he replied with a smile. “Homophobic attack on a gay club. Some arsehole drove a van carrying a bomb into the club’s plate glass window, and it started a fire. What I didn’t realize was that there was a second incendiary device set to go off fifteen minutes after impact.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Yeah, there’s some evil-minded fuckers about. But thankfully everyone got out and no one was killed. And I’ve now got some new sexy scars.”

  “Have they caught the bastard who did it?”

  Robert nodded. “He’s been remanded in custody. Doubt he’ll see the outside of a prison for a decade or two.”

  A silence fell between them and both took a long drink of their beers. Robert was surprised how comfortable they were together, as if Mike had slotted back into his life perfectly, with no need to tear up the past.

  “I was thinking about what you said last night, about going back to teaching,” said Mike.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think you’re right. I mean, once the farm is sold, there’s nothing keeping me here. My folks are talking about retiring to Spain, and the last thing I want is to gate-crash their perpetual second honeymoon.”

  “What about your brothers?”

  “Bill left home years ago, never settles anywhere for long. And Pete’s shacked up with his girlfriend, busy popping out the next generation. Their flat’s already too small, adding me would be a nightmare.”

  Robert took another drink, and tried to find a way to ask his question without sounding too obvious that he hoped there was a specific answer. “So whereabouts are you looking?”

  “Anywhere really. It’s not like I’ve seen enough of the country to know the best bits.”

  “Do you good to live in a city for a change.”

  “I lived in a city before—when I was at uni.”

  “But it’s different when you’re a proper grown-up with a job and bills to pay.”

  “You’re not selling it, Bobby.”

  Robert laughed, and a pang longing hit him in his stomach. He didn’t want Mike because it was easy to fall back to his first love. He wanted him because, for Robert, there had never been anyone else who even came close to completing him in the way that Mike had. “You should come back with me. You’re overdue a visit.”

  “I’d like that.”

  The silence descended again and was filled by the drinking of beer. “So what’s new in your life, Mike? There must be more going on than the sale of the farm?”

  Mike let out a long sigh. “Not really.”

  “No boyfriend at the moment?” asked Robert, knowing full well there wasn’t.

  Mike shook his head. “Nah, I was seeing someone, but it didn’t work out.”

  “What happened?”

  “I wasn’t what he wanted,” replied Mike, and Robert was sure he saw a flash of hurt cross Mike’s face. “He was more interested in Debbie from the chip shop than me. Didn’t do my ego much good, I can tell you.”

  “Sounds like a real twat.”

  “I ain’t gonna argue with you there, Bobby. But then I don’t exactly have the best record where guys are involved.”

  “Oi! You had me.”

  “And it’s all gone downhill from there.” He grinned. “So what about you? Is there someone back home to wash your cape and super underwear?”

  Robert nearly snorted lager up his nose at Mike’s question. “Hardly. I tend to wear out my welcome after a night or two.”

  “More likely you don’t stay around long enough to make breakfast.”

  Robert shrugge
d. “No one really ever measures up to your first love, do they?”

  “Let’s not go there, eh, Bobby.”

  “Look, I know it wasn’t the right time for either of us then, but what’s stopping us trying now? You don’t have to be here anymore, and I’ve come to terms with my powers. Give me a good reason why?”

  Mike downed the remains of his pint and stood up. “Because I don’t want to.”

  Robert swallowed past the lump in his throat as Mike walked out of the pub. He leapt to his feet, almost taking the table with him, and only his quick reflexes saved the remains of his pint. He sprinted after Mike.

  Outside he saw Mike turn a corner and disappear out of sight. “Mike! Wait, please!” he called. He caught up with him, grabbing Mike’s arm.

  “Just don’t, Bobby. Don’t play with me.”

  Mike refused to look at him, and Robert took his hand. “Why would I be playing?”

  “Oh please. You’re a fucking superhero. What the hell would you want with me?”

  Robert could hardly believe the anguish on Mike’s face. “But you’re perfect for me. You don’t buy into this hero crap, and you’d never let me get away with bullshit.”

  “You want me to keep you in line?” asked Mike incredulously. “That’s why you want me?”

  “I want you because I love you! The rest is an added bonus.” Robert swallowed thickly, having surprised himself with his declaration and how much he meant it.

  Mike looked hopeful for a moment and then uncertain. “I don’t know….”

  “Please, Mike. We’re not kids anymore. And I know what I want.”

  “I need to think about this.”

  Robert squeezed Mike’s hand. “Take as long as you want. I’m going to be at the farm for a while.”

  Part Four: Love from the Land

  IT HAD been three days since his drink with Mike. Boring, pointless days where he’d done little but mope around the farmhouse or trail behind his dad in the fields. Even the crops had picked up on his malaise. They’d been quiet on his walks, and there’d been no sign of the golden mist that had graced his previous visits.