Holly sniffed. She had abhorred being angry at Lucinda and it had contributed to her own misery.
‘Please try to forgive me, Holly. I’d really love to get to know my grandson and to make it up to you.’
Holly nodded. ‘I’d like that too.’
She did want Luke to know his family, but she also knew that it would take time. There was a lot of hurt to work through first, and months of pain wouldn’t disappear overnight.
‘I’m glad you’re okay, Holly. We were all worried when you suddenly left, and I knew it was partly my fault. What with Rich going too, it was like losing two members of our family.’ Lucinda wiped at her eyes as she stood up. ‘But the most important thing is that you’re all right. And your baby son too. How… how old is he?’
‘Three and a half months. He came seven weeks early,’ Holly added.
‘That must have been a worrying time for you.’
‘It was. I need to speak to Rich about it all.’ She met Lucinda’s gaze. ‘We didn’t have much time to talk earlier, but obviously there are conversations that need to be had.’
‘Of course there are.’ Lucinda pushed her shiny bobbed brown hair behind her ears. ‘You’re not rushing off again, though, are you?’
Holly shook her head.
‘Come and see us at the bakery? Please.’
‘I will.’
‘And bring Luke?’
‘Of course.’
‘And remember that I am sorry, Holly. I’d do anything to take my words back.’
Holly nodded. If only it was as simple as that, but once things were said, they were out there. All she could do now was try to move on, for Luke’s sake.
* * *
Ten minutes later, Fran returned to the kitchen with Luke and an empty bottle.
‘Looks like people want your mummy to stay around for a while, Luke.’ Fran spoke to the baby but Holly knew it was for her benefit. ‘She’s been missed.’
‘Did you hear what Lucinda said?’
‘I bumped into her in the hallway as I was bringing Luke back down. She cooed over him for a while but wouldn’t hold him. She said she didn’t want to without asking you if it was okay. She clearly feels bad about something.’
Fran sat down and Holly shuffled her chair closer to her friend and leant her head on her shoulder, just as she used to when they were growing up. Things were different now, with Grandpa gone. Only a few months ago, she’d have faced his disapproval if she’d come home, and worried about Lucinda’s reaction too. Plus, there were other ghosts at Greenacres that she didn’t have the strength to confront.
But as with everything in life, things had to be dealt with eventually, and Holly knew that time had come. There would be no more running away.
* * *
‘Would you like anything else to eat?’ Granny asked as she stood up.
‘No, that was lovely, thank you. The caterers you hired were fabulous.’ Holly stood too. ‘Sit down, Granny, and I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
Glenda nodded, but as she sat back down, Holly noticed how she gripped the edge of the table.
‘Granny, what is it?’
‘What is what?’
‘You’re in pain.’
‘Holly, I’m past eighty and it’s been a long day. Some aches and pains are to be expected.’
‘I know, but you should try to rest more.’
‘I can rest when I’m dead, dear.’
Holly winced.
‘Oops! Sometimes I can be so inappropriate. Talk about poor timing. Your grandpa would’ve frowned at me for that one.’
‘I say the wrong thing all the time.’ Holly grimaced as she recalled occasions when she’d put her foot in her mouth.
‘Your mother was the same; I think you both get it from me.’
Holly filled the kettle, then went about making tea as her granny talked.
‘It was strange today, wasn’t it?’
‘Very.’
‘Seeing my husband buried not far from my daughter was surreal. No mother should lose a child. Losing a spouse, well, it’s to be expected for one or the other, and Grandpa and I were lucky to have each other for so long, but losing a child goes against the natural order of things.’
‘I understand that now more than ever.’ Holly carried two mugs of tea to the table and set one in front of her granny.
‘Yes, you’re a mum now and it’s wonderful. Luke is such a gift.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t come home in time to say goodbye.’
‘You wouldn’t have known your grandpa at the end, dear. He was very different.’
‘How so?’
‘Well, he wasn’t himself before you left really, was he? Not the man you knew growing up.’
‘No… he was a bit forgetful, but I put it down to age and tiredness. The hours he was still working must have been taking their toll.’
‘He was always the same, determined to keep going day and night to make the vineyard a success. It was just a shame he wouldn’t listen to your father and try something new. Sun, rain or snow, he was out there somewhere dealing with something. I believe that’s what kept him fit for so long.’
Holly sipped her tea and gazed around the kitchen with its dark green Aga, heavy oak cupboards and green and red tiled surfaces. The large window above the apron-fronted sink overlooked the same view as her bedroom window. Outside, the sky was dusky pink, painted with purple and peach streaks. It was beautiful, and made her aware of how much she’d missed that view, the sense of openness that being at the old house created. Unlike the flat she’d rented in Exeter, with its view restricted to the buildings opposite, Greenacres was detached and set in its own land; the only nearby buildings were the barns and winery. She knew that if she stepped outside now, she’d be able to inhale the sweet spring air, to feel its soft caress on her skin and to watch as the sky changed from pastels to navy then black. She also knew that if she kept walking, she’d cross the vineyards and the fields, eventually reaching the open expanse of the clifftops with their panoramic view of the sea and the paths that led down to the golden beaches of Penhallow Sands.
‘He was a good grandpa.’ She nodded.
‘He was, but he was very strict, with your mother when she was a child and then even more so with you. But he loved you both and wanted the best for you, because of his own upbringing and because he wanted more for his family. After a childhood spent in children’s homes and foster care, he worked his fingers to the bone to make this vineyard a success. He didn’t always go about things the right way, or the most sensitive way, but I’m pretty certain that he was very hard on himself a lot of the time and that he felt he’d failed your mother when she got sick.’
‘He didn’t fail Mum. How could that possibly have been his fault?’
Glenda shrugged. ‘I swear he thought he could scare the cancer out of her. He hated that it beat him. At least that was how he saw it. I told him there was nothing more he could have done, but he wouldn’t listen.’ She blinked, then wiped her cheek.
‘Oh Granny, don’t get upset.’
‘I’ve cried many tears over your mum and Grandpa, Holly. A few more won’t make a big difference.’
They fell quiet for a while, both lost in their memories.
‘I don’t know if I ever told you, but your grandpa was such a handsome man in his youth.’
‘I’ve seen the photos, and you weren’t so bad yourself.’ Holly was glad of the change in the direction of their conversation.
Granny chuckled, then raised her mug.
‘To the only man I ever bedded, and that’s because we were wedded.’
Holly raised her mug too, feeling her cheeks glowing. She was a bit embarrassed that Granny was talking about sex. She also wondered if it was an unintentional comment on her own situation, because she had slept with Rich and got pregnant by him even though they weren’t married. But times had changed, and judging by the distant look in Glenda’s eyes, she hadn’t meant to comment on Holly’s
lifestyle choices or her morals.
‘The marriage thing was different when I was young,’ she continued. ‘We felt we had to be married before we had sex… or some of us did, at least! I know it’s not something you want to think about your grandparents doing, but don’t ever be shy about sex. It’s a part of life and a damned good part. Of course, Grandpa didn’t like to think it happened, especially to his daughter, which was why he was so shocked when she told us she was pregnant with you. He said that if Bruce didn’t marry her right away, he’d crush him with the grapes and bottle him.’
‘Goodness!’ Holly could imagine her grandpa saying exactly that.
‘Your mother fought her corner for a while, insisting that she didn’t need to be married, but she and your dad were in love, so they were happy to say “I do” before you arrived.
‘He was a passionate man, your grandpa,’ Granny carried on, clearly back in the past. ‘He knew a thing or two about making love—’
‘That baby is good as gold.’ Bruce entered the kitchen and set the baby monitor on the table, and Holly breathed a sigh of relief. Her granny clearly needed to talk about Grandpa, but the direction the conversation had taken was making her uncomfortable.
‘He went down okay then?’ she asked him.
‘Oh yes, he wasn’t averse to a bit of that.’ Granny smiled, a faraway look in her eyes.
‘Oh God, no…’ Holly shook her head, but Granny wasn’t listening.
‘He did.’ Bruce frowned in the direction of his mother-in-law. ‘I won’t ask what you two have been talking about. I’d love a cuppa if there’s one going.’ He took the empty baby bottle to the sink and swilled it out, then set it on the draining board while Holly made him a mug of tea the colour of mud. Her dad liked his tea strongly brewed with a tiny splash of milk.
‘Right, I’m off to bed.’ Granny got up and picked up her own mug.
‘I’ll sort that. Leave it there.’
‘Thank you, Holly. It’s so wonderful to have you home again. Love you both.’ She gave a little wave, then left the room.
‘Was she talking about sex again?’ Bruce asked as he pulled out a chair.
‘Again?’
‘Yup. She’s been doing it quite a lot lately and it can be very awkward, especially when she misunderstands what someone has said. It’s like some kind of innuendo bingo.’
‘Is it the grief, do you think?’
‘It could well be.’ Her dad nodded.
‘At least she’s thinking about something nice.’
‘True. Not really what other people want to think about, though… especially not the vicar, although he did deal with her comments quite well when he came to the house after Grandpa had died. She was going on about one time when she and Henry got naked and rolled around in the grapes in the winery. ‘
‘Best avoid that vintage then.’ Holly giggled.
‘Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?’ Her dad raised his eyebrows.
Holly drained her tea, then picked up the monitor and automatically checked that the volume was turned on.
‘Don’t worry, I checked it already.’
‘Force of habit, I guess. Living alone means that I check everything about a hundred times.’
‘I hate to think of you being on your own, Holly. I’d have come to see you more often if they could have spared me.’
‘I know that, Dad, and I appreciated you visiting when you could. I’d have come back sooner too if I hadn’t been so worried about Grandpa’s reaction to Luke. Now I feel dreadful that they never met.’
‘Some things just aren’t meant to be. Grandpa declined so much in the last six months that he might not even have understood who Luke was.’
‘Was it that bad?’
Her dad nodded. ‘Poor man.’
‘And you and Granny?’
‘We’re okay… especially now that you’re home.’
He met her eyes and the love in his gaze filled her heart. She’d left Greenacres in a moment of panic and pain and hadn’t really thought it through, but then she’d found out she was pregnant, and coming back had seemed too big a mountain to climb.
She’d told her father that she and Rich had rowed, but not the things they’d said, nor why she’d been so hurt. She’d been unable to voice her feelings, fearing that freeing them would make her pain even worse, so instead she’d given him a summary and left it at that. She was also afraid that telling him might make him see Rich differently, or prejudice him towards the young man he’d loved as a son. That was something she’d never want to do. Rich was Luke’s father, and in spite of how he’d treated her, she knew that she had to try to ensure that both families could accept that fact.
‘I’m so grateful to you for trusting me when I told you I couldn’t talk about me and Rich, and not pushing me to tell you more.’
Dad nodded. ‘As long as you’re good, then so am I. Tell me if you want to, but forget about it if that suits you better. I’m just here for you whenever you need me.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Right… I’m going to head up to bed now, if you don’t mind. It’s been a tough day and I have an early start tomorrow.’
‘At the vineyard?’
‘I wish it was outdoor labouring. It’s with the accountant.’
‘Old Mr Seymour?’
‘Yes. He’s still doing the books for us. Though he still insists he can’t abide computers and needs everything in writing. It makes keeping the books straight so much harder. I guess we should think about changing to an accountant who’s a bit more with it, really.’ Her dad rubbed his eyes.
‘It would make sense. I remember Grandpa saying that Mr Seymour had given up all his other clients and only did Greenacres’ books as a favour to him.’
‘It’s something I’ll try to look into soon.’
‘Everything okay, though?’
His eyes dropped to his slippers and he shook his head. ‘It’ll be fine. I need to go over some figures with him, that’s all, and see how the land lies.’
‘Okay, well if you need me there too, let me know.’
‘Will do.’ He kissed her cheek, then left the kitchen.
Holly stared at the surface of the old pine table and ran her finger over the grooves and lines etched into its surface. There were straight lines, wonky lines and even some numbers, probably left over from her maths homework or her grandpa working out the vineyard accounts. Towards the edge was what appeared to be a pattern, but when she looked more closely, she could see that it was actually a smiling face surrounded by a mass of wavy hair. It was her mum, a childish sketch Holly had drawn years ago, when everyone had been here, sitting around the table together; a whole family, not one fragmented by death and distance, pain and loss.
Time moved on. People changed, left the area and passed away.
But this was still a family home, and Holly was back. She hoped she could piece together what was left of her family before it was too late, before anyone else was taken away.
She stood up and yawned, took the mugs to the sink, checked the back door was locked, then picked up the baby monitor and headed upstairs. It wasn’t even nine, but she was exhausted, and knew she’d need her strength for the next day. A good sleep would help; she had to hope Luke thought so too.
Chapter 4
When Holly awoke the next morning, dawn was creeping through the gap in the curtains, bathing her bedroom in cold grey light. The dark, bulky shapes of the furniture she’d grown up with lurked at the edges of the room, and for a moment, she felt disorientated, slightly uneasy. This was quickly replaced with joy when a gurgle caused her to turn and see Luke lying in the cot, waving his hands in the air. They had both slept through, in spite of the unfamiliar surroundings, which Holly had worried might unsettle the baby.
She got up and went to the cot. Luke smiled as she reached for him.
‘Good morning, little man.’
She carried him to the window and pushed the curtains aside, then peere
d out into the morning. There was a gentle haze across the fields and she knew that if she walked out there now, the dew would soak her legs and feet – fresh and cold, pure and new. The yard was quiet; it would be an hour or so yet until the working day began at the vineyard. Growing up, she’d often walked through the fields with her mum, dad and grandpa, completing a variety of essential tasks: stripping leaves from the vines, which aided ripening by exposing the grapes to the sun; removing secondary fruit as harvest approached so the pickers didn’t collect unripe grapes that would affect the quality of the wine; and checking for any sign of pests or disease. On hot summer days, she helped Granny take cool drinks and sandwiches to the seasonal pickers, and warm drinks on cooler autumnal days. Harvesting occurred any time between late August and October, depending upon the type of grape.
Sometimes, as a teenager, she’d lain down between the vines and gazed up at the sky, watching as the clouds sailed along, listening to the birds singing in nearby trees as planes passed overhead, wondering where they were heading. She had been taught to respect the earth and the fruits it produced, to love the smell of fresh, fertile soil, and in the middle of spring, in the seemingly momentary week or two of bloom, she’d enjoyed pressing her nose against the silken grape clusters and inhaling their sweet, subtle aroma.
‘All of this could be yours one day, Luke.’ She kissed his soft head and he patted her arm, as if reminding her that it was breakfast time.
Downstairs, she wandered through to the kitchen and found her dad at the table, a mug of coffee and a plate of toast in front of him.
‘Good morning!’ His face lit up and he held out his arms.
Holly handed Luke to him and began to make up a bottle. When it was ready, she gave it to her dad so he could feed his grandson, then sat down and sipped at the coffee she’d just poured.
‘Mmm. This is good.’
‘Freshly ground.’
‘I can tell.’ She sighed with contentment. ‘Luke slept through the night.’
The House at Greenacres Page 4