Hazel Wood Girl (11 page)

Of course, just when you think nothing more can happen… I was sneaking over to the barn last night around one am after failing to get to sleep, when I saw in the distance something moving near the Hazel Wood. I knew it must be Christophe because no one else apart from me goes there. More than anything on earth I needed to talk to him about the gig, so I ran across the cattle field in the pitch dark, stumbling every now and then. It was too dark to venture into the wood without getting whipped by branches, so I sat cross-legged just nearby. Some
sounds vibrated a short way off, around the ruined cottage, which made me feel quite scared because it occurred to me that it might not be Christophe, it might be the Grangers, or worse.

Then my name was being spoken softly behind me.

‘Poppy? Poppy is that you?’

‘Who’s there?’

‘It’s me.’

It
was
Christophe. He had a torch and I could tell he didn’t have anything else in his hands.

‘No note?’ was all I could think to say.

‘I just needed to be here. I figured …’

And right then we both heard it clearly, a sound from the ruined cottage.

‘Come on,’ he said, and led the way.

I knew we just had to find out who it was, and what was going on. It sounded as if things were being moved around inside, dragged from here to there. ‘Bodies!’ was my first thought, and not a helpful one. I’ve never been inside because of all the warnings we’d been given about the walls collapsing.

Christophe took a deep breath and we walked inside, and then he shouted in a slightly wobbly voice, ‘Who’s in here?’

For a moment his light searched around, hitting only bits of wall and floor, and then it landed on a 
person, perhaps the last person we expected to find.

Sammy-boy.

We just stood there looking at Sammy-boy who was sitting on the ground with his mouth open, shaking all over, and not able to speak. Around him were piles of old eggs, vegetables, unripe grain, and rotting raspberries sitting on little beds of unprocessed wool. Nothing mattered suddenly, no details or questions, and I went over, sat beside him and put my arms around him. He started crying then and couldn’t stop, so I just kept hugging him and telling him that it was OK, that no one was angry with him. When he could talk he said,

‘But now I have to go to prison,’ and started crying even harder.

I thought I would break from it.

‘No, no, you’re staying right here with us.’

With that, Christophe, who had been just standing there, picked up his little brother sat with him on his knee on a low piece of wall. Sammy-boy seemed even smaller than usual. Christophe gently asked him,

‘Tell me what this is about Sammy-boy. That’s it. I’ve got you.’

He said it in a broken mixed-up way and with loads of sobs between the words, but we finally understood that Sammy-boy heard their mum on 
the phone to their dad one night soon after they had moved here. She was sounding upset and asking,

‘And how are we supposed to pay for food and basics this winter?’

Frightened that there was no money and they’d all starve after the summer was over, Sammy-boy then started to save small bits of food from his meals, like apples and cereal bars, and hide them under his bed. Eventually he got too hungry to keep that up, and began to sneak out really early in the mornings or last thing at night and take things from our farm. He said because we were kind. Soon there was so much stuff under his bed that he had to find another hiding place and knew that no one came near this old cottage. During this last week he started to get really worried because the food started to go rotten and he couldn’t sleep at all at night for worrying about it.

Sammy-boy was crying in little whimpers by now and said,

‘What are we going to do to eat this winter? If Mum’s hungry she’ll have to go to hospital again.’

I could hear a catch in Christophe’s throat as he said,

‘We will always have enough, Sammy-boy, always. Mum just wanted to make Dad think a bit more 
about the money he sends us, that’s all, it’s all sorted. And I have a Saturday job once school starts again. And it’s OK, but you have to understand that Mum will be going into hospital every now and again, and then she’ll be out after a while like always. I promise you never have to worry about anything. I’m in charge.’

Then Sammy-boy looked over at me and said,

‘Poppy looks after me when you’re not there.’

‘I know,’ he said, ‘we’re really lucky to have her.’

That made me feel sad, but also it made me feel good, like I make a difference. Most of my life I’ve felt as if I’m in the way or not as good as Mindy, and that things would be better if I wasn’t around. Now I feel that I do matter. When I go back to school I’ll remember that, and even if Barbara and her lovely bunch go back to making fun of me, and even if people steal my lunch (not that they’d get away with it now!), at least I’ll know that I make a difference to one little boy.

Christophe said we should all go home to bed, and he made me take the torch so I could see my way, and he carried his little brother home in the darkness.

When I woke up this morning I felt happy about the gig and also really sad to think that a teenager 
has to feel like he’s in charge of his whole family.

Liza stayed over and it feels like she’s always been here. At breakfast I told Mum, Dad, Adam and Liza about what happened in the ruined cottage. Liza and Mum had tears rolling down their faces and that set me off too. None of them are even a tiny bit annoyed with Sammy-boy, they just feel really bad that he had all that going on inside his poor little head.

Dad got really furious, which is not like him at all, and started pacing up and down the kitchen. I think he was angry that he didn’t work it out, or didn’t help the Hoopers more. He kept saying,

‘I’ll sort this out, I’ll think of something.’

Christophe arrived right after that and asked to speak to my dad, who took him straight through to the living room. I ran up to Mindy’s room, which is just above the living room, and put my ear to the floor. I heard enough to understand that he was trying to pay Dad for the stuff Sammy-boy hid in the cottage, but Dad wouldn’t have it and was telling Christophe not to worry and all kinds of good things that made the tears start rolling down my face again.

Mum came in just now and told me that we are having the Hoopers over for dinner, so I have to hurry to help Liza get the chairs back to the school.

Last night was another one to remember. I think I need a day off from amazing things! When the Hoopers arrived for dinner, Sammy-boy said sorry for taking the stuff and we all hugged him and told him that we love him. He had a box under his arm and looked at his brother, as if to ask what to do next.

Christophe said that they had a bit of an announcement to make, so we all sat around the kitchen table. The Hoopers had spent the afternoon clearing out the rotting food from the ruined cottage, 
and while they were doing one last check, Christophe found this old tin wedged at the bottom of what would have been the old fireplace. At first he thought that Sammy-boy had put it there and opened it up expecting to find carrots or beans inside. That’s when he found a bundle of papers wrapped in plastic, and instantly wondered if they might be the second set of papers that the Grangers were talking about.

Back at home, Mrs Hooper and Christophe read through them, and it seems that they
are
all about the stone barn. They say that the stone barn belongs to
this
farm and always did. And there’s more. There were also papers proving that the Egg Farm was sold to Adam’s dad just before he died. That means that the Egg Farm belongs to Adam and not to the Grangers after all.

We couldn’t believe what we were hearing and we made Mum read the documents there and then. Being all lawyer-y, she doesn’t get overly excited, but she did say that it seems to be true and they will need to get it all verified.

Adam was dazed. He said that he’d love the chance to turn the Egg Farm into a real chicken ranch where birds can roam and scratch about in the sun and rain. 

‘But what about your teaching job in the far east?’ I asked.

‘Well, I’d already decided not to take that job,’ and he squeezed Liza’s hand, ‘but I’ll still be going there in late October for a couple of weeks … on our honeymoon.’

That was just
way
too much new stuff,
way
too quickly, and we all sat there trying to work out what he said. Then Sammy-boy saw the ring on Liza’s finger and told her it was a very nice ring, very big (and it is!). Then there were hugs and kisses all round and Mrs Hooper, Liza, Mum and me were crying with being so happy, and the guys all laughed at us. Then Mum and Mrs Hooper had a million questions for them about the wedding and when did they know, and all that.

Good thing I was there to finish the cooking and serve up, otherwise everyone would have starved and not even noticed. We all talked and talked about the Egg Farm, the Grangers, the engagement, the gig, over and over until it was really late. I don’t even think about talking or not talking any more, I just do it as much as anyone.

This afternoon the police confronted the Grangers with paperwork and told them that the place doesn’t belong to them. Of course they already knew that 
and were livid that the evidence had been found. Mrs Granger then went on a rant, spitting that they should have burned down all the farms, not just the town hall. Which is how the police discovered that the fire had been started by them. Mum said that they will need more proof like fingerprints or confessions if they are to put the Grangers in prison for it, but at least they’ll be out of everyone’s way for now. Within two hours, they’d packed up the basics and fled. They left the boat (which is, of course, an important landmark on the ‘fancying Christophe Hooper’ trail).

We all trooped over to help tend to the chickens; they were in an awful state. Mr Granger hadn’t cleaned the sheds out properly in years. Dad even let me put on a mask and gloves too, and had me collecting the fresh eggs. Some dead birds were left in their stalls, which was the saddest thing, but Dad dealt with them first.

Adam explained to me that even when he has the new open runs built, many of the chickens will just stay motionless in one place, that it’s hard for them to change from the way they have lived for so long. I know what he means, but I hope that one day, if they really want to, they can do things differently. I hope that even chickens can change. 

After dinner we had a meeting of all band members at Em-J’s house.

We laughed like crazy people, and demolished the best part of a giant pizza, going over every tiny moment of the gig, what everyone did, felt, saw, heard. When you’re in the band you notice and care about little details that other people would find boring.

We also talked to Barry Finch on speaker phone. He’s out of hospital and thrilled about the money and the scooter. He claims to be the biggest Farmer fan in the world and will be there in the front row for the first gig after he’s fully recovered.

Liza and Adam have asked us to play a few numbers at their wedding reception, and the café have told us we can play every Friday night as long as we give them a cut of the profits. Em-J has already got calls from people saying they are starting their own bands, so hopefully they can come and play at our nights in the café, which we are calling The Harvest Nights.

Christophe and I sat beside each other on the couch all evening, and at one point he started playing with the zip on the corner of my jacket. Em-J noticed and immediately started teasing him saying,

‘So Mr Guitar Man, what would Helen think of you 
snuggled up so cozy beside another girl?’

He looked confused and said,

‘I don’t know anyone called Helen.’

Which made me really confused too. Within a minute Em-J was grilling him alone in the kitchen under the guise of having him help bring in mugs of peppermint tea. She phoned me once I got home and reported that Christophe doesn’t have a girlfriend and hasn’t had since he got here, so we have no clue what Sammy-boy was on about. That time he was late for rehearsal was because he had to fix a mistake that another farmhand had made.

Now I am combing over everything that has happened in the last couple of weeks and rethinking it with this new information. I still can’t work out if he is into me or if he’s just being his usual friendly self. Guys are lucky, their heads work in straight lines like tractors while mine dances about in every direction.

Over breakfast Adam told me he has great plans for the Egg Farm, which he’s now calling the Egg Ranch because it will be so different. He doesn’t like doing any of the business side of things, and jokingly asked if me and Em-J wouldn’t mind leaving school and coming to work for him. Sammy-boy, who had just shown up, said,

‘My mum was a business lady before,’ and then toast got in the way of him saying any more. It was enough though, and Adam went off to make a call.

I decided to find out about this ‘Helen’ girl that 
Sammy-boy said was going out with Christophe.

Through more mouthfuls of toast, he thought for a second before saying,

‘No, not Helen, uuummmm … Hazel, yes,’ he giggled with his secret, ‘He writes her love letters and leaves them on a tree, and sometimes he’s happy when he comes in and sometimes he isn’t happy and he says, “Girls! They are
such
a mystery!” like this …’, he rolled his eyes and grinned in a perfect imitation of his brother.

I realised then that Sammy-boy must have seen some of his notes to me, or mine to him, and doesn’t know that I am the Hazel Wood Girl. It still doesn’t mean that Christophe actually likes me, but hey, it’s a start. I can’t believe how ridiculously relieved I am that he isn’t ‘girlfriended’ after all.

I just chilled out in my room all day, and at dinner Adam said that Mrs Hooper is going to run the business side of the new Egg Ranch, which should mean plenty more money for the Hoopers. She has been feeling so much better since they moved here and even if she has to take some time off, there are loads of people around to help out.

It’s now about eight-thirty at night and I’m off on a mission to the old Egg Farm to check there are no cats, canaries or other animals that need looking 
after, ones that we missed when we saw to the chickens.

I just got back, and ended up with
SO
much more than the one-eyed, mangy old Golden Labrador that’s probably lying at the end of Sammy-boy Hooper’s bed right now.

The dog was filthy and cowering in the kitchen of the Egg Farm, and not until I’d fed him would he come to me. I looped my belt around his collar and was leading him out down the lane and across by the stone barn when I noticed Christophe and Sammy-boy walking towards me. Probably because I knew that he
might
like me and didn’t have a girlfriend, I felt really nervous, as bad as that day in the supermarket when he was looking at bread.

‘Hey, what are you up to?’ Christophe grinned and Sammy-boy looked from one of us to the other like he was working something out.

‘Just rescued this poor old soldier. I don’t suppose anyone wants a slightly yellow dog?’

‘Yes, me! Me! I want a yellow dog!’ Sammy-boy jumped up and down and started giving me a list of all the reasons he should have a dog, with gestures to demonstrate. It was great to see him so happy and 
excited and I kept pretending I was unconvinced, which made him even more determined. My personal favourite (with actions) was,

‘And, and, and, I can chop down a little tree and throw it for him to catch, and then make him eat a ham sandwich, like that.’

When he got to,

‘No, because, Poppy, I can run really fast like vvvhhuuum!, and he can run with me and be my friend, and I’m the boss and I’ll tell him not to step on the hedgehog.’

I handed him over, and Sammy-boy darted off with the dog to ask his mum if it was alright. I could never say no, and I don’t think his mum will either.

Christophe yelled after,

‘Bath, Sammy-boy! You
and
the dog.’

That left me and the guy I was by now madly
insane
over, standing there in silence without a dog to pretend to talk about.

We sort of both looked at the ground for a few seconds and then Christophe said,

‘Look …’ before pausing and then starting again.

‘I was just about to leave a note in the Hazel Wood,’ he said, holding a piece of paper in his hand.

‘What does it say?’ I asked, with a straight face at first, but then I couldn’t help starting to smile. 

He crumpled it up and stuffed it into his back pocket, took a deep breath, a really deep breath and launched into,

‘It says––

‘Who’s it from?’ I smiled, faking an innocent look.

He didn’t reply, instead he playfully picked me up and carried me over to the barn wall and kissed me and kissed me. They were kisses that I couldn’t have dreamed of, they felt that good. I still can’t believe it.

Yup, just checked my head again, still can’t believe it.

Later, I retrieved the original note from his back pocket and it actually said,

I’ve kept it and put it up beside the bunch of flowers picture and the cartoon of me.

Then we went to sit on the hay-bales and I had to know why he had ignored me for so long, and not wanted to talk me. I was totally floored when he said that he was just too nervous and shy, and that he thought I wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him when the others were around, because he knew I was such a sophisticated city girl. It just goes to show how we can all really mess things up just by thinking! Also he was feeling really bad about moving here and thought that I was already in with people like Beau and Em-J and that I thought he was just an outsider. The laughing at me was from nerves, and he thought that
he
came across as an idiot in the supermarket and at the fish barbecue.

Anyway, I soon told him my half of things and we spent the next couple of hours talking and kissing and singing, before he walked me back here and 
quickly kissed me again before running off home across the field. I could hear him shout, ‘Yes!’ in the darkness which was
so
lovely.

I can’t take it in (did I mention that yet?). I never thought this would happen. I wonder why there’s no word that means the exact opposite of lonely? Whatever it is, that’s how I feel now, like the spaces are all filled up. I looked at his pictures until my eyes were too heavy.