The Shadow Year by Hannah Richell Read Free Book Online

neither of the boys hears her. Ben is drifting further up the hillside, towards the apple trees, while Simon is wrenching at the door to the ramshackle wooden shed.
    ‘It’s a pit toilet. And there’s an old tin bath propped behind.’ He grins. ‘Very rustic.’
    ‘Who cares about a rusty old bath? Look what I’ve found,’ cries Ben. They turn and see him bending to inspect a leafy green plant at his feet. ‘Strawberries.’ He pulls a scarlet berry from its stalk and crams it into his mouth. ‘Delicious.’
    Kat and Simon join him by the plants. She pulls a plump strawberry from its stalk and lifts it to her lips. He is right. They are delicious, warm and sweet and the three of them pick as many as they can, stuffing them into their mouths before returning to the others, carrying the rest cradled carefully within the folds of their shirts.
    ‘I tell you what,’ says Ben, his head resting in Carla’s lap as she feeds him the last of the berries, ‘if I died right now, I’d die happy.’
    Kat stares out over the lake and sees that the sun is beginning to disappear below the surrounding hills; it hangs like a ball of fire in the sky, turning one lonely cloud a dazzling gold. Far away the sound of a pheasant echoes out across the lake.
    ‘This is all right, isn’t it?’ agrees Carla, stroking the side of Ben’s stubbled chin.
    ‘I can’t get over the fact that there’s no one else here. What a waste.’
    ‘I don’t think I’d need much else in life if I had this view to wake to every morning,’ agrees Simon.
    ‘We should head back soon,’ says Mac, scuffing the grass with the toe of his trainer.
    ‘How about you just leave me here,’ jokes Ben. ‘Reckon I’d prefer to rough it here than go back with you lot. I can live without that job at my father’s engineering firm.’
    ‘At least you’ve got a job to go to,’ says Carla.
    ‘We’ll be OK,’ says Kat, plucking at the daisies dotted on the grass around her. ‘I know the papers are full of doom and gloom but we’re graduates.’ She thinks of the endless application forms she’s filled in, the numerous polite but firm rejections she’s received back and swallows down her doubt. ‘We’ve got valuable skills.’
    Simon stifles a laugh. ‘Valuable skills? You think? Unemployment’s on the rise, taxes are going up, interest rates are increasing. This Thatcher woman’s playing hardball. They’re saying we’ll be in recession soon . . . and then we’ll all be screwed.’
    ‘Wow, that’s depressing.’ Carla looks worried.
    Simon shrugs. ‘Only if you plan on becoming another cog in the machine.’
    Kat studies Simon carefully. She can see the gleam in his eyes, the one that tells her he is warming to his subject.
    ‘So tell us, oh wise one,’ asks Ben from where he lies stretched out across the grass, ‘what’s the answer?’
    Simon thinks for a moment. ‘It’s about getting back to basics . . . forgetting about the system and thinking about what you’d really like to do with your life, if money were no object. I don’t mean engineering,’ he says looking at Ben, ‘or journalism,’ and he turns to Kat. ‘I mean that thing you most enjoy doing. The thing you always dreamed of doing when you were a little kid. Because I know as sure as hell that I didn’t grow up wanting to be a lawyer.’
    Kat pulls another daisy from the grass and pinches its stem between her fingernails. ‘I like writing,’ she says and then colours when she realises she’s said it out loud. ‘I mean, I always wanted to be a writer. That’s what I wanted to be when I was a little girl.’
    She’s expecting laughter but Simon just nods. ‘Exactly. Writing. You don’t need money or a degree or a fancy house or car to write. Just a pen and a piece of paper. And you, Ben?’
    ‘I like smoking weed,’ he says, making them all laugh. ‘And my guitar. I’d be happy if I could just hang out and smoke and make up daft tunes all day.’
    ‘So no