akai 👁

IT'S 10.30 AM, and the new farm helper is late.

Turning to Maiko, I heave a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness for that, huh?" The pregnant mare nuzzles into the palm of my hand. "You were really stressed out yesterday, weren't you?"

Maiko whinnies, almost as if she's chiding me.

"Don't blame me," I mutter. "I told your owner I didn't need help. He's the one who insisted. Said he didn't want me to overwork myself. But it's not overwork if you're doing things you love, is it?"

Maiko snorts.

"You don't think she knows what she's doing?" My mind flashes back to yesterday, when Iris almost punched a hole in the wall with her pitchfork. And how she couldn't differentiate between soiled and unsoiled bedding.

"I don't think she knows what she's doing too," I agreed. "I don't think she was a farm helper at all. If she was, she was a bad one."

I give Maiko's bulging belly a light pat. "Any day now, you. You tell me if you need anything, okay?"

I move away to check on the other horses. Kuroo, our black Hanoverian, is already tossing his head impatiently, wanting a good round of galloping on the grass. Next to him, Shou is just as eager. The second I unlock their stalls Shou makes to canter out, but I lift a hand and shoot him a look.

"No running in the stable, Shou," I warn. He backs off a little, admonished.

I walk to the stable doors, Kuroo and Shou keeping pace behind me. The second their heads clear the building, they're off, dashing across the meadow like the majestic beasts they are. Coats sleek and shiny, manes streaking away behind them in the wind.

I smile. God, I love them.

Taking a swig from my water bottle, I sit on a nearby tree stump and watch them frolic for a few minutes. A flock of birds fly past, low over the glass surface of the lake. Mornings like these, when I'm all alone and everything is serene, my mind travels unavoidably back to Japan.

I miss it. Even though my life here could be considered better, even though Ryefair is, in many ways, the same as what I left behind, I still miss it. I miss my home. I miss my parents, and I miss my old farm. I miss the many cows and sheep and goats and chickens I used to tend to; the dogs that would bound along my heels and the horses that ran in packs. Kuroo and Shou are lovely, but nothing beats a herd of seven horses galloping in the backdrop of a setting sun.

But they're all gone now. Gone in the face of a 27-paged black and white document.

I scowl. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, letting the whinnying of Kuroo and Shou fill my ears. I don't think anything can ever fill this black hole in my heart, but those two are sure doing a good job patching it up.

My mind wanders back to Iris Monet. There's definitely something off about her. The more I think about it, the more I'm certain she lied her way into the position.

Shou comes up to me and starts tugging at a clump of grass.

"What do we think, Shou?" I call out. "Should we report her to Mr Satoh?"

Shou flicks his ear and neighs.

"He won't believe me? Hmm. That's true," I muse. "I've told him too many times that I prefer working alone. He'll think I'm just trying to get rid of the help."

I need proof. Irrefutable evidence that Iris Monet is a liar and a fraud.

The answer comes to me in less than a minute.

£

iris 👁

Fuck. I've overslept.

The noon sun hits me dead in the face as I scramble out of bed. I'm a little disoriented, and as I stand up, my legs get entwined in the bedsheets and I trip, bonking my right toe against the corner of my bedside dresser.

"Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!" I hop to the bathroom, grab my toothbrush, and squeeze out a pint-sized amount of toothpaste – only it isn't pint-sized at all, but a large dollop that smears the glass of the mirror.

Turning around to grab a tissue, I hit my other toe. It happens to be the same one a horse stepped on yesterday, and I explode in a string of profanities.

There comes a tart exclamation and an angry rap on my room door. I can hear Anita's severe voice rebuking, "Excuse me! We do not use such language in the house! What if the young lady hears you?"

I grit my teeth through the pain. "Sorry!"

By the time I'm huffing and puffing my way across the estate grounds, it's already two. Akai has put the horses out to graze and is currently sweeping up the last of the shavings.

Doubled over, I try to catch my breath. I was in such a rush I didn't even manage to put any make-up on. (Except for some lip gloss. And a wee bit of eyeliner.)

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sleep late; it's just that yesterday was so tiring, and I did set my alarm, but somehow I didn't hear it, even though it did ring, and ..."

My rambling trails off. God, would it kill him to show me some emotion? I don't think I've ever seen him express anything else other than poker-faced blankness.

"I've done the stable," Akai says. "There's only the barn left."

"Yes. Of course. Let's get to it immediately." I gesture wryly at my covered shoes. "I'm wearing the correct attire this time. I won't take another fall."

"Good for you. Falling when you're alone can be quite dangerous."

It takes a second for me to get it. "Wait. You won't be helping me?"

Akai frowns. "Why should I? I've shown you yesterday how it's done. Besides, with your vast experience, you should have no trouble settling it on your own ... right?"

I'm not sure I like the piercing expression on his face. Either way it makes me blurt out immediately, "Of course! Of course, I won't have trouble doing it on my own."

Akai takes a step near. "Because you're used to dealing with farm animals, aren't you?"

I take a step back. "Yeap."

He takes another step closer. "Animals like cattle and chickens?"

I try not to stutter. "Absolutely."

"And you know your way well around a barn?"

I'm suddenly aware that I've gotten myself sandwiched between a hard wall and a stony-faced Akai. He's about one foot away from me, and as he asks that question he closes that gap still, until we're mere inches apart.

His eyes are black chips flecked with gold from the afternoon sunlight. I'm trying to remember how to speak, and in the end can only nod.

We stay in that position for a few seconds.

Then he moves off, busying himself with the broom again. With his back to me, he says, "Then you better get going."

I can still feel the intensity of his gaze burning in my cheeks. "Right. Yes. Of course."

Turning smartly on my heel, I walk away fast, head low. My heart is drumming like a runaway train in my chest.

While I may not be making any effect on Akai, it seems the converse isn't necessarily true.

£

Snapping on my mask, I place my rubber-gloved hands on my hips as I survey the barn.

I mean, it can't be that hard, surely? I've played a fair bit of Harvest Moon in my life. At one point in the game, I was looking after four cows, five sheep and seven chickens. Not to mention a dog, a horse and a fully-blooming crop of vegetables. All I had to do was brush the cow, milk the cow, and throw the chickens to increase their affection points ... though I'm guessing that last part doesn't translate to real life.

I look at my watch. 2.30 PM. Three hours to get it all done.

Easy-peasy lemon squeezy.

£

3:06 PM Apparently cows get easily spooked. They get spooked if you come up behind them and they get spooked further if you scream because they're spooked. How much does a broken water trough cost, I wonder?

3:27 PM I've accidentally tip over the wheelbarrow. I don't even know how I did it. All I know is that there's more manure on the floor than I started with.

3:58 PM There is no end to this cow dung. This is it. This is how I'm going to die. Stuck in cow dung hell. It doesn't help that the smell goes right through my mask. I've thrown up twice.

4:11 PM I give up. I can't do this. Maybe I'll have better luck with the chickens.

4:15 PM I do not have better luck with the chickens. The rooster has nipped my toes twice and it looks like it wants to take things further. It looks ready to take me on in a claw-to-fist fight. And I'm pretty sure he'll win.

4:29 PM Fuck. Did I just step on a baby chick?!

4:30 PM No, it's just an egg ... oh FUCK –

4:31 PM The hens have officially exiled me from the chicken coop. I can't enter anymore, not unless I want to be scratched to death. And honestly, I don't blame them. There's egg yolk on the ground and one of the hens – I'm guessing the mother – is clucking away loudly in grief. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it!" I yell, but my apology falls on deaf ears.

£

At exactly 5 PM I step outside the barn, exhausted. I have not mucked the cow pens. I have not fed the chickens or changed their water. This entire thing isn't easy-peasy lemon squeezy, more like sad depressed lemon zest.

Throwing my rubber gloves on the floor, I press a cool palm to my hot head. I can't do this. This was a mad idea.

My mobile rings. It's Martha. I hope she's here to give me good news. My father's little speech has rankled all my nerves, and it doesn't help that the one person who understands is no longer talking to me. Heather's usually the first to make up after we have a fight, but she hasn't texted me since that day.

Maybe Martha's calling to tell me that the divorce has been finalized, and that the court has agreed to give me several million pounds as compensation. Divorcing a rich man can be just as lucrative as marrying one, if I'm being honest.

"I've been trying to get to you." Immediately I can tell from Martha's tone that it's not good news at all. "Have you been on the Internet recently?"

"No. Why?"

"I've sent you something. You'll want to take a look."

There's a buzz as the text comes in. Martha has sent me a link. It redirects me to a tabloid page, and right on top, in bold letters, is the headline:

𝙈𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙄𝙊𝙉𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙀 𝙄𝙉𝙑𝙀𝙎𝙏𝙊𝙍 𝙅𝘼𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙀𝙓𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙀𝙎 𝘾𝙃𝙀𝘼𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙒𝙄𝙁𝙀, 𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙄𝙈𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝘼𝙁𝙁𝘼𝙄𝙍𝙎 𝙒𝙄𝙏𝙃 𝙈𝙐𝙇𝙏𝙄𝙋𝙇𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝙉

The article goes on to detail how, over the course of the couple's three-year marriage, Mrs Iris Darling had on several occasions deceived her husband by engaging in sexual relations with other men, mostly for money. The list includes an actor from Germany and a member of the corporate office ...

"Bullshit!" I yell. I'm so incandescent with rage that I can barely speak. "Martha! We're suing him for slander!"

There's a slight pause. "Iris, we're already dealing with your divorce, do you think it's wise to start another court proceeding – "

"You don't understand, Martha. This cannot be happening. It's bad enough I'm a divorcee, and if people start trusting Jared's lies, I'll be completely ruined in the marriage market!" I wail.

"Going up against Jared means you'll be falling for his trap," Martha says quietly. "He wants you to turn this into an ugly affair. Besides ... I'm not sure if you're financially able to hire a team of lawyers. You'll need good ones if you're fighting Jared."

"You're telling me to just sit back and take it?"

"I'm telling you to keep your head down and focus on the objective: leaving your husband. The court won't be swayed by some petty tabloid article, and we shouldn't be giving Jared more ammunition."

Martha's voice is soothing, and I can feel some of my outrage dissipating. She continues in the same tone. "So just keep yourself low-key, and stay away from any press, social media – or men, for the time being."

"Men?" I echo.

"Well yes. You're still legally married to Jared, you know. The divorce isn't finalized yet, and if you get into a new relationship now, you'll just be confirming what the tabloids print."

A beat. "You don't have any other men, do you?" Martha asks suspiciously.

I cross two fingers behind my back. "No. Not at all."

"Don't worry, Iris," Martha says reassuringly. "Jared hasn't got a leg to stand on. It's just his wounded pride lashing out. Once we've gotten you a fair divorce, then we can proceed with the lawsuit."

I don't like this at all. In fact, I hate it. But I know there's nothing much I can do. "Fine. But I swear Martha, you and I, we're taking that son-of-a-gun down. I've got names of all the women he meets with, the dates of his so-called 'business trips', the smell of perfumes on him that I don't own ... you just tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you!"

"Oh, good," Martha says. "I was just about to discuss the matter of my payment."

That dampens my vengeful enthusiasm somewhat. "Right. About that."

"I'm assuming Jared is no longer in the picture to continue paying for my services. Perhaps your family ...?" Martha's voice trails off delicately.

My family? I'll die before I ask my father for a penny, and with every passing second of silence, Heather no longer seems to be an option. Then it strikes me.

"You know what, Martha?" I draw myself up straight. "You can charge all payments to me. Iris Monet."

There's an interval of silence that goes on for just too long.

"I can pay you," I add. "I've gotten a job."

"You've gotten a job," my lawyer repeats.

I'm just a little irritated by the doubt in her tone. "Yes, I've gotten a job. A paying job with a monthly salary. That satisfies you?"

"How astounding," Martha says mildly. "Well, if you insist. My wages are in your hands, Miss Iris."

Martha tells me a bit more about what I should expect next from the court, and then the conversation ends, and I'm left staring at the tabloid article. The more I read, the harder I grip my mobile, until my knuckles turn white under the skin.

The word gold-digger appears three times, and every time I read it, I hear my sister's voice.

Jared's headshot grins sleazily at me from the sidebar of the article.

"Can't believe I was married to you for three years," I choke out furiously. "Freaking bald eagle-looking-man with a skull that can ricochet light." My voice rises a little more. "Bastard with an oily face shinier than a new Porsche and bedroom skills worse than a 40-year-old virgin." Now I'm shouting. "Instead of investing in the stock market you should have been investing more in your limp di – "

I stop.

Akai is standing right there looking at me.