‘And the winner of the Tree of the Year competition is …’
It’s a couple of weeks later and the Tree of the Year ceremony is online, so we’re all gathered around Tonya’s phone while the internet buffers slower than a dial-up modem, and we wait for the man on the screen to make his announcement after a pause that any talent show TV presenter would be proud of.
The tips of the sycamore have started to turn yellow as September creeps in, and it won’t be long before the tree is once again open for wishes as the sycamore seeds start to fall. The strawberry patch is still open and we’ve put up polytunnels to protect the plants from the first frosts of autumn, and customers are still coming.
‘The seaside sycamore tree!’ The tinny, juddering voice shouts through the speaker and Alys squeals so loudly that she makes Tonya jump and drop the phone.
‘I knew we could do it,’ she says as she fishes the phone out of a strawberry plant.
‘Congratulations, Seaside Sycamore Tree, you will receive a grant towards the conservation efforts, and we have many delighted listeners who are already booking their trips to Wales,’ the man onscreen says.
Ryan throws his arms around me and picks me up, spinning us around, and my hands slide into his hair and stroke his face when he puts me down again. He leans down to press a respectful kiss to my cheek, considering the number of residents gathered round and customers who have stopped to hear the announcement.
Steffan, Godfrey, Mr Barley, Morys, Alys, and Ffion are also here, along with my dad, who’s standing to one side with his arm around Cynthia. Cheryl’s clapping, and most of the nurses are outside, enjoying the early autumn sunshine with the residents.
There is so much hugging that I lose track of who I’ve hugged and end up hugging both Alys and Tonya at least four times, until Dad extracts me from the group by clapping a hand on my shoulder and pulling me over to Cheryl.
‘I want to show you girls something.’ He beckons for us to follow him down to the tree. Cynthia comes with us, and when Ryan looks at me questioningly, I grab his hand and pull him along too.
Dad searches the trunk for a few moments, but seems to know exactly what he’s looking for. He rubs his fingers over the indentation in the bark and then steps back so Cheryl and I can see it too.
It’s the carving of Mum and Dad’s names that they did on their wedding night. One that’s been here all this time and we never knew, never noticed it amongst all the other carvings of lives gone by.
He stands in the middle with his arms around mine and Cheryl’s shoulders, holding Cynthia’s hand against Cheryl’s arm, and Ryan’s holding mine on my other side.
‘I probably should have showed you girls this long ago, but it’s always felt too painful to face. The people we love are everywhere, even when they’re gone. To me, your mother will always be a part of this tree. I’ve avoided it for a long time, but there’s so much love here today that it seemed like the perfect moment. I’m relieved that it will stand here for a long time to come.
I’m crying again. So is Cheryl. So is Dad. There are hugs all round as they walk back up to the strawberry patch, and Ryan and I stay by the tree.
‘We did it,’ he whispers, squeezing the hand he’s still holding.
‘We make a good team.’
He leans down to press his lips to mine, his hand sliding into my hair and tilting my head to meet him, keeping it soft and gentle and not long enough with the number of people who are still celebrating nearby.
Eventually, he tugs me over to lean on the barrier and look out at the perfect sea view, and seconds later, one of the branches above us rustles, and a brown sycamore seed glides from the tree and lands on the grass behind us.
My eyes go wide. ‘I guess the tree agrees.’
‘I’ve always said it knew we were trying to save it,’ he whispers, like speaking normally would break whatever magic exists in this canopy under the branches.
I look up at his laughing, crinkled eyes and wonder if there’s something to be said for trees granting wishes after all.
He bends over to pick up the seed and holds it out to me. ‘Go on, this one is most definitely meant for you.’
My fingers brush his warm palm as I take it and turn it over in my hand, and eventually, I hold it out to him and nod for him to take half and we break it apart like a wishbone.
Half a wish each seems fitting somehow.
‘I wish for the success of the strawberry patch,’ I shout into the universe and we both throw the seeds over the cliff and watch as the two halves twirl downwards. The tide is at its highest point so the sea is lapping at the cliff edge and the helicopter seeds land perfectly in the water below.
I let out a whoop and he laughs, grabbing my hands and pulling me to him. ‘This one’s guaranteed to come true. I think the tree owes us a little magic, don’t you?’
‘Maybe it’s us who owe the tree a little magic,’ I whisper against his chest where he’s pulled me to him, and his arms tighten as I move so I can look up at the branches shifting above us.
Maybe the magic of any tree is in the life that’s passed underneath it while it stands there unmoving for generations, and maybe that is the kind of magic that makes wishes come true.
I look over the edge and see the sycamore seed bobbing on the water’s surface below. Or maybe sometimes it’s pure magic and sycamore wishes made at a seaside strawberry patch really do come true, even if you have to wait a while.
Gripped by The Wishing Tree Beside the Shore? Don’t miss The Little Bookshop of Love Stories, another unputdownable novel from Jaimie Admans. Available now!
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