‘Are you sure about going?’ I asked, not sure how I wanted her to answer. ‘You could stay with us in the tent until it’s light, then make much faster progress.’
‘And leave that poor girl’s mother out of her mind with worry?’ Irene shook her head determinedly. ‘No. It’s time for the Library Lady to have a real-life adventure. You two stay safe, and I’ll see you soon.’
‘Who’d have thought that Irene Jenkins would turn out to be a hero?’ Joan asked, as we watched her disappear into the night.
‘Honestly, not many heroes wear capes or have huge muscles,’ I replied. ‘Most are ordinary people who simply have the courage to do the right thing when it needs to be done.’
‘I’m sorry I ruined your birthday, Ollie,’ Joan whispered later, her face buried under her arm.
‘Right now I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be,’ I whispered back, patting her shoulder.
She snorted. ‘Well, that’s clearly not true.’
‘Okay. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with.’ I waited a beat before adding, ‘And at least you’ve made it memorable.’
At some point in the seemingly endless night, as Joan and I huddled under my sleeping bag, trying not to imagine what awful fate might have beset Irene, the torch started to flicker.
Then, just as it gave one final angry buzz before abruptly switching off, Nesbit began scrabbling at the tent door. Clambering out from under the sleeping bag, I trusted in his wagging tail and manoeuvred around to unzip the tent.
Two black noses pushed their way in to greet Nesbit with a gentle whuffle. Behind them, the light of a professional forest ranger’s torch blazed through the darkness.
I’d never seen Sam look so grim. Rain dripped off the hood of his jacket, and blood trickled down one cheek from a jagged scratch. With a few curt sentences he’d established the situation and taken control, scooping up Joan with a promise that a service truck would be waiting a quarter of a mile away, along with two colleagues.
I felt awash with panic at the thought of being left alone, but when Sam instructed Scout to stay, it helped me quash the urge to wrap my arms around his legs so he was either forced to stay too, or drag me with him.
‘Have you heard from Irene?’ I asked, just as he turned to go, Nesbit and Willow at his heel.
‘Not yet, but we’ll find her.’
Crap. I willed myself to keep it together. The last thing any of us needed right then was me falling apart. Offering what I hoped was a reassuring smile, I gave Sam a nod to indicate that it was fine for him to leave.
I was in a fretful doze when Scout’s ears pricked to attention, already pulling myself into a sitting position and tumbling out the tent the second Sam unzipped the door. Holding my arms steady, his eyes roamed my face.
‘Okay?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m okay. But oh my goodness, I’m so happy you came back.’
Sam pulled me into his chest, strong arms wrapping tightly around me. I felt him press a kiss against my forehead where my hood had slipped back. Nestling into his solid warmth, I would have smiled if I had the energy. I’d got a birthday kiss after all, and it was more wonderful than anything I could have imagined.
It was just after one when Sam’s truck pulled up by End Cottage. It turned out that time passes much slower than it seems while crashing through a forest in the dark, or hiding all alone in a tent. Irene was fine, wrapped in a blanket, sipping her second hot tea with a generous tot of whisky, and there were enough of the other guests still there that in the light of a successful search, it almost recreated the party atmosphere.
I asked if everyone could stay while I quickly changed. It was enough to set me off crying again, finding them all squeezed into the living room – my neighbours and friends. My family.
After offering a whole-hearted thanks to everyone, especially Irene and Sam, I dried my eyes, blew my nose and got straight to the point, given the late hour and the exhaustion seeping into my battered bones.
‘I had a speech all planned for this evening. I promise to keep it quick, but if you can indulge me for a few more minutes, I wanted to finish off a momentous four months by telling you what this evening was all about. It was all about this.’ I lifted up the Dream List in all its ticked-off glory. ‘When I was sixteen years old, I made a list of hopes and dreams for the future. Or rather, for a very specific future that included a Dream Man. A man I then spent thirteen years waiting to show up, so those dreams could come true. Despite my devastatingly honest best friend believing that the list was as daft as it was boring, she helped me realise that I didn’t need someone else to make my dreams happen. In fact, waiting for this elusive Dream Man was only stopping me from stepping into the kind of life that I wanted. So, I decided to tackle the Dream List on my own. And this evening, I completed it. You might agree with Steph that it’s a pretty pathetic list.’