Knowing that the sooner I slept, the sooner I’d be a day closer to seeing him again, I relented and whispered good night. Kim returned the sentiment, but his soft sigh kept me from hanging up the phone.
“Kim? What is it?”
“Nothing, really, I just need you to know that I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. You believe that, don’t you?”
I closed my eyes and pictured him on the steps of his beautiful trailer, long legs stretched out in front of him, nursing a cup of lukewarm tea. “I do. Good night, Kim.”
“Night, Jas.”
The next day passed in a blur of hard-core photography. I finished the aerial footage in the morning and then set about the interior shots in the afternoon. I’d hoped to get it done by the evening, perhaps allowing me to head home early, but it wasn’t to be. Daylight faded too fast, leaving me stuck in Bristol for another night.
I called Kim to moan about it, but he didn’t answer, and I didn’t call back. The bloke hadn’t had a night off in weeks and chances were he was fast asleep, catching up on the rest he’d so desperately needed. I sent him a text and then passed out myself.
It wasn’t until the next morning when I woke to a blank phone that I realised I’d left my charger at home. Going out to buy one would cost me precious time, so I didn’t bother, but I headed straight for the cathedral to finish my work.
I wrapped it up in two hours and dashed to the train station, jumping on the first train I saw heading south. It was barely ten o’clock, and the three-hour fast line left me plenty of time to make the four o’clock barn launch.
Or so I’d thought. Animals on the tracks meant delays, and I got caught in traffic on my way back to Porthkennack. It was after five by the time I rushed up the driveway of Belly Acre Farm, and I’d missed the grand opening, though the party appeared to be in full swing.
“There you are!” Laura grabbed my arm and propelled me into the barn. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
“Sorry, Ma. My train got stuck at Plymouth. How did it go?”
“See for yourself,” Laura said. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen.”
She left me at the door. I grinned after her, pleased for her, proud of her, and indeed proud of everyone who’d been involved in a project that had seemed like it would never come to fruition.
I stood to one side and surveyed the bustle of the packed barn: the families eating Laura’s cake and Gaz’s chutney with local cheese, the buzz of conversation, the hum of contentment, and the faint surge of gentle laughter that warmed the barn even more than the central fireplace. And of course, the bespoke artisan furniture that Kim had poured his heart and soul into. I wandered around, taking in everything from the mismatched driftwood chairs, to the beautiful tables he’d built from piles and piles of discarded pallets. Each piece was stunning, and none were the same. For the millionth time since I’d met him, I was utterly floored by his brilliance.
I was on my second loop when I spotted the picture frames hung on the walls—rustic white imperfect squares that I instantly knew had been made with the smashed-up bookcase from my London flat. Eight of them in total, all filled with a timeline of Manning family photographs. The sight of my family made my heart fit to burst, and it was the first time in as long as I could remember that I felt something for a photo I hadn’t taken myself.
A light came on in my soul, illuminating the giant space that Kim had carved out. All I needed now was the man himself, but there was no sign of him in the barn, not even with Brix and Calum, who were huddled up at the back, digging into a heaping plate of sweet ginger fairing cookies.
“I haven’t seen him in days,” Brix said. “I thought he was with you.”
“He was until Monday morning. I’ve been in Bristol since then.”
Brix’s concern was sudden, and the excitement I’d arrived with died an abrupt death. I looked at Calum, hoping to see the measured calm I’d seen in him on the day we’d gathered the driftwood, but he already had his phone in his hand. “I’ll call around,” he said. “Jas, go check he’s not with your dad. Don’t worry, if I find him, I won’t make it obvious you’re looking for him.”
Kim getting the hump was the least of my concerns as I left Calum and Brix behind and made a loop of the farm, asking anyone and everyone if they’d seen Kim, but no one had.
My dad trailed me out of the farmhouse, his flowered shirt billowing behind him. “What is it, son? Has something happened?”
“I don’t know, Dad. I just expected him to be here.”
“He did say he would be. Maybe he’s running late? Have you called him?”
“My phone’s dead.”
“Give it here. I’ll plug it in.”
I left my phone with my dad and rushed back to Brix and Calum, who were at the barn door.
“No one’s seen him,” Calum said, “but that doesn’t mean anything’s happened.”
Brix looked less optimistic. I grabbed his arm. “What do you think? Are you worried?”
“I’m always worried about Kim, mate. Even the good stuff sends him off the rails.”