Torn by Gilli Allan

fool.’
    â€˜Thanks for coming to my rescue. It was brave of you. And … I’m sorry I offered the money. As soon as I’d done it I realised it was wrong.’
    â€˜Forget it.’
    â€˜But I couldn’t think how else to show my appreciation immediately.’ Jess considered the way he’d looked that night. The woollen hat pulled down over his dreadlocks, giving his head an enlarged, hydrocephalic appearance – the tasselled flaps of the hat hanging over his cheeks; the fair tendrils of moustache and beard obscuring mouth and jaw line. ‘Hardly surprising I didn’t recognise you after you’d had your locks cut off. Why did you do it? It must have taken considerable time and dedication to grow.’
    â€˜Since I was about fourteen, when I decided I wanted to be an eco-warrior, I just let my hair grow and never shaved … not until recently.’
    Jessica had wanted to know why he’d cut them off not why he’d grown them, but she let it pass. ‘Most boys want to be train drivers. But you wanted to be an eco-warrior?’ She couldn’t help the teasing tone in her voice.
    He smiled. ‘In those days, while I was still young and there was nothing local to protest about, best I could do was look the part.’
    â€˜You don’t want to be an eco-warrior anymore?’
    â€˜I still believe in the power of people banding together to take direct action against big business and devel’pers. Protecting the envir’ment from global warming, but …’ he frowned. Jessica tried to supply the qualification he seemed to be searching for.
    â€˜So, you’re a bit of an anarchist? But you don’t need the dreadlocks any more to prove it?’
    â€˜Something like that. But the hair’s irrelevant. What I was trying to say … I don’t believe in violence.’
    â€˜I see. It’s the warrior bit you’ve out-grown. You’d prefer to be seen as an eco-campaigner these days?’ He nodded. ‘So when did you have the locks cut?’
    â€˜Christmas. When I went back across the river to see my folks in the Forest.’
    He had crossed the river to his home in the Forest? Gandalf beard was right. This was beginning to sound like a fairy tale.
    â€˜Forest?’
    Danny looked mildly surprised at her ignorance. ‘Forest of Dean. East … I mean west of here. Across the Severn.’
    â€˜Is it a real forest?’
    â€˜A lot is, some of it’s farmland, like here.’
    â€˜And that’s where you learnt husbandry?’
    Danny looked suddenly alarmed. ‘Hus … what?’
    â€˜Farming, looking after animals.’
    â€˜Sorry. I’m not very educated, Jess. Spent too much time down the lane, helping on Earl’s, our neighbour’s, farm. So yeah, that’s where I learnt …’
    â€˜Husbandry. Danny? I’m sorry, this may sound rude but, how old are you?’
    He gave her that narrow-eyed appraising look she remembered from the party, as if trying to second-guess her reaction.
    â€˜Twenty,’ he said, tilting his head back, jutting his chin.
    â€˜You’re twenty! Danny!’
    â€˜Nearly,’ he added. Jess dipped her face into her hands. Last night she’d accepted he was possibly younger than her, if not by an unbridgeable margin. Even in daylight his age was difficult to judge. But there was something about the way he expressed himself, a kind of innocence, which had revived the suspicion that he was even younger than she’d first estimated. But nineteen, for God sake! No need to agonise any further about what she should do. This revelation had made up her mind for her. Even without the additional difficulty of her being the mother of a young child, there was no way she would pursue a relationship with a nineteen year old. It was ridiculous. Out of the question. Jess raised her head and looked at him. His