Summer in the Orchard

by Fay Keenan

  Sophie laughed. ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out!’

  ‘Well, well, well, you’re looking cosy.’ A very unwelcome voice broke into their private world. ‘I thought you came down here to work, Soph, not to have a dirty weekend.’

  Sophie stiffened and suddenly felt sick to her stomach. ‘What are you doing here?’ she muttered as Mark sidled up to them.

  ‘Just doing a bit of the hard sell to the punters.’ Mark smiled, but there was no warmth in it.

  ‘Mark Simpson,’ he said, sticking out a slightly grubby hand to Alex. Alex ignored it, and Sophie felt his back stiffen.

  ‘I know who you are,’ Alex said quietly. His expression was dark, and he put an arm protectively around Sophie. ‘Excuse us, please.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be like that, mate,’ Mark replied. ‘I’m just coming to say hello.’

  ‘And you’ve said it.’ Alex turned back to Sophie. ‘We should probably get back to the concession.’

  Sophie nodded, unnerved by Alex’s sudden reaction to Mark, given his natural reserve and politeness about everything else. ‘Yes, let’s get going.’

  ‘Good to see you, Soph,’ Mark called after them. ‘Text me when you get back, yeah?’

  As they walked away, Sophie glanced up at Alex. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked quietly.

  Alex nodded stiffly. ‘Of course.’ But his set expression suggested otherwise. He was silent until they got back to the Carter’s concession, and then they were both caught up in selling and demonstrating for the rest of the afternoon, so Sophie didn’t get the chance to question him further. She could understand his reaction to Mark to a point; after all, she knew he was fond of Lily and Mark was to blame for her fall, and, she figured, perhaps Alex felt protective of her, too, after what she’d been through with Mark. She was just surprised that Alex had let his feelings get the better of him when he was so under control about everything else. Hoping she’d be able to get him to open up later, she concentrated on talking to show goers for the rest of the afternoon.

  *

  That evening as they headed back to the yurt, Sophie decided the direct approach was best. Alex had been quiet on the way back to their sleeping accommodation, and Sophie felt distinctly unnerved.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he replied, in response to her enquiry. ‘It’s been a long day.’

  Sophie forced a smile, hoping that she could help him to brush off whatever it was that had preoccupied him since they’d bumped into Mark. Sliding into his embrace, she tilted her head up for a kiss, but even then, with her body pressed against his, she could tell his mind was elsewhere.

  ‘Tell me what’s bothering you, Alex, please.’

  Sighing, he drew back to get a better look at her. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘It’s just that… I have a real problem with Mark. And not just because he’s your ex, or even because of what his dog did to Lily. Although that’s reason enough.’

  ‘So what else is it?’

  Alex shook his head. ‘I guess it’s because, when I was in my mid-twenties, I was just like him when it came to women. I didn’t care who I hurt, and I was pretty careless with a lot of people’s hearts.’

  Sophie drew in a breath. She hated to think of Alex and Mark as similar in any way; they seemed like two opposing sides. Surely Alex was exaggerating? ‘I find that quite hard to believe,’ she said. ‘I mean, you were so cautious about us getting involved; what changed?’

  ‘I did,’ Alex replied. ‘Back then, I was working through a lot of issues. Mom had started to tell me the story of where I came from, a bit about who my father was; well, my biological father. She wouldn’t give too many details, insisting that the time would come when I could find them out for myself, and to be honest, on the surface I didn’t really care. Harry has always been my dad; I didn’t need to know about my father.’ He shook his head. ‘Mom told me that I was the result of a summer fling. She didn’t tell me if my father knew about me. That information only came later, just before she died.’

  ‘So how did you feel about that?’ Sophie reached out and entwined her fingers with Alex’s.

  ‘Frustrated, ten years ago, but not exactly angry. Mom was pretty strong willed, but she’d always made sound decisions. I figured she must have had a good reason for keeping his name from me. But on a deeper level, looking back on it, I can see that only having some of the story was affecting me. I had a string of flings, one night stands, ended things with women I liked because I wanted to prove something to myself. I put myself in danger more than once, sleeping around, running risks, and I’m not proud of that. I guess I must have been dealing with a lot of subliminal stuff, and my way of coping was to turn it all outwards. Mom was worried, I know she was, but I guess I was punishing her, and my biological father, for keeping things from me.’

  ‘Sounds like you had a lot to get your head around,’ Sophie said.

  ‘I did,’ Alex said. ‘The law firm I worked for had a therapist on the payroll. I went to see her and talked things through, got a little bit of perspective. Realised that I was blaming Mom for the fact I felt there was a piece missing in my life, and using those women as substitutes, trying to hurt her.’ He shook his head. ‘At first I thought it was all pseudo-psychological bullshit, but gradually things started to make sense. Especially when I found out the circumstances of what had happened between Mom and my father.’

  Sophie’s heart lurched. She immediately started to think the worst; was Alex’s mother abused? Was that why she’d kept things from her son? ‘So, what did happen?’

  Alex smiled sadly. ‘He was married, with kids, young kids, when they met. And they lived… a long way apart. According to Mom, there was never going to be a future for him and her. She made a decision that, to her, was perfectly logical; she’d keep the baby, and raise him or her alone. I don’t think my father ever knew I existed.’

  ‘And once you found all this out, you never wanted to find him?’

  Alex’s face clouded over momentarily. He looked as though he was choosing his words carefully; his voice was husky. ‘Of course. But it’s too late now.’ For the first time since she’d met him, Alex looked truly desolate.

  ‘Oh, Alex.’ Sophie’s eyes filled with tears. She pulled him to her in a tight embrace. ‘I’m so sorry.’ She could feel him trembling against her.

  For a long moment they just held each other; united in their shared sense of the loss of a parent they’d never really known. As they broke apart again, Alex placed a gentle kiss on Sophie’s lips.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘And I’m sorry I was so weird this afternoon. It just brought back a whole lot of stuff I thought I’d put behind me.’ He laughed. ‘I think being with you is making me want to open up about it all again, to be honest.’

  ‘I’m glad, I think.’ Sophie laughed nervously. ‘I mean, everyone’s got some secrets, right?’

  For a second, something unreadable flickered in Alex’s eyes, and Sophie itched to press him further, but just as quickly it was gone.

  27

  On Saturday evening, after another blissful night at the Royal West Country Show, with Sophie marvelling how she and Alex could still function facing the crowds of visitors all day and making love all night, they returned to Little Somerby, and had to readjust to normal life once more. Despite the hard work that the show had involved, to a certain extent it had felt like a holiday. Both of them definitely felt as though they were coming back to earth when they parted.

  Sophie had gone back with Alex to Lily’s cottage to check on her grandmother, who seemed pleased to see them both. Jane had been taking care of both Lily and dog walking duties for the duration of the show, and Barney was ecstatic to see them back. After a brief cup of tea with her grandmother, Sophie, with more than a little regret, kissed Alex goodbye lingeringly on the doorstep of her grandmother’s cottage. Jane was flying back out to Marseille tomorrow afternoon, and mother and daughter both wanted to spend a little time together before she left.


  ‘I’ll see you on Monday,’ Alex murmured, also reluctant to be parted from her. Neither of them felt comfortable at the prospect of sharing a room under Lily’s roof, and Sophie couldn’t face answering her mother’s Spanish Inquisition should she present Alex at the breakfast table the next morning, so they decided for the moment to sleep separately. Besides, it wasn’t as if they wouldn’t be seeing plenty of each other at work anyway.

  *

  As it was, they both got swept up in the next big event in the Carter’s calendar, and this one was quite a bit closer to home. As soon as the Royal West Country Show was over, the team at Carter’s were well into preparations for Jack Carter’s memorial celebration, which would be happening on what would have been his eighty-fifth birthday in the middle of August.

  Carter’s Cider liked to host various social events on the site during the year, as a way of keeping in touch with the village that had always been so accommodating and supportive of the business and its rapid expansion, but this particular event also had a deeper resonance. Jack had been a figurehead for the business in life with his charisma, sense of humour and encyclopaedic knowledge of apples. If his son, Matthew, had been the driving force behind the business’ expansion in recent years, Jack Carter had perennially been seen as the heart of the brand. His death eighteen months ago had been sudden but not unexpected, but it had still left a hole in the Carter family and also the cider business. The memorial celebration would be a good way of marking his life and his legacy, as well as a reason to have a great night. The last of which, Jack would most definitely have approved of.

  All of the cider farm’s staff had been invited, and, such was the family ethos of the business, it wasn’t going to be a night where they’d be forced to stand on ceremony. Matthew had seen to it that outside caterers and waiting staff had been hired, so no one felt like an employee. The invitation had been clear: wear something colourful, and dance the night away. Meredith had vetoed the use of ‘eat, drink and be Merry’ on the invitations, for obvious reasons.

  Alex, charmed to have received his own invitation to the party, was also feeling distinctly nervous about it. Such a markedly family oriented gathering was an unnerving prospect on one level. He ached, since his nights at the Royal West Country Show, to level with Sophie, but the deeper he got, the harder it was to find the right words. How could he explain to her now, after everything they’d said and done, who he really was?

  Sophie, who was looking at her own invitation as Alex opened his, smiled. ‘You OK?’ They’d managed to maintain a professional distance during the day, partly because Alex had been working with other departments for the past week or so, but he was still at a desk in her and David’s office during the down times.

  Alex mentally shook himself. ‘I’m fine.’ He smiled, dragging himself back to the present. ‘This looks like fun,’ he said, gesturing to the invitation.

  ‘Should be a good night,’ Sophie replied. ‘Did you, er, want to be my date for it?’

  Alex put down his invitation and wandered over to Sophie’s desk. He took her hand and pulled her up from her chair, drawing her closer to him. ‘There is nothing I’d like more,’ he said softly. Just as he was dipping his head to kiss her, a cough from behind them made them both leap apart guiltily.

  ‘Not on work time, if you don’t mind,’ David said gruffly, passing Sophie a stack of printouts from the latest vat tests. ‘You might want to check number fifteen this morning,’ he said. ‘Its stats aren’t quite as they should be.’

  ‘Thanks for the heads up,’ Sophie said, feeling the blush creeping up her cheeks. She suppressed a smile; David still preferred to check the numbers as they were spewed out on an ancient dot-matrix printer, rather than carry an iPad around with him at work, so she made a show of looking at the sheaf of paper that he passed her, before logging in to the real time numbers on her own iPad.

  ‘And you’d better head on over to the presses.’ David turned to Alex. ‘The boys over there don’t like to be kept waiting.’

  ‘Sure, right away,’ Alex said, feeling like a teenager who’d been caught by his date’s father. He was sure he didn’t imagine the faintest of twinkles in David’s eye as the older man slipped back out of the office, though. Laughing nervously, he looked back at Sophie. ‘See you at lunchtime?’

  Sophie nodded, still rather pink. ‘I’ll meet you over in the canteen.’

  Alex hurried out of the office and across the courtyard to the cannery. He tried not to think about the invitation on his desk, celebrating the life of a man he’d never known, and never would. For all kinds of reasons, the night would stir up a lot of emotions; he just hoped he’d know how to handle them.

  28

  Sophie was stunned at how quickly the summer seemed to be rushing by now that she and Alex had become a couple. The days seemed to run into each other, and Alex had taken to spending the short, sweet summer nights in Sophie’s bed, always heading off at about six o’clock in the morning to take Barney for his early morning walk. Lily hadn’t yet said anything to him about the fact that his bed in her spare room wasn’t being slept in a lot of the time, but he was sure he hadn’t imagined the pleased, yet rather knowing look in her eye when he’d returned with Barney and grabbed a quick breakfast before heading out to work.

  Before Sophie and Alex knew it, it was the evening of Jack’s memorial celebration. The party started at seven, but Alex and Sophie were in no hurry to join other people and be sociable. They’d stopped for a quick drink in The Stationmaster before getting to the farm, as both wanted to slip into the party unobserved. Sophie was keen to do this because she didn’t fancy getting collared by a knowing Laura, and also because she knew that Mark would be there somewhere. The dairy farm he managed had been collaborating with Carter’s on a joint marketing campaign to promote both their cheese and Carter’s cider, so he was bound to show his face at the party. She was still very angry about what had happened between Mark’s dog and Barney, but had been grudgingly relieved to see that Mark had at least bought his dog a muzzle since the incident. She really didn’t fancy making small talk to her ex with Alex in tow, though, especially given their acrimonious meeting at the Royal West Country Show.

  Alex had been quiet when he’d called to pick her up, and Sophie felt a prickle of concern worrying at her heart. It wasn’t like him not to make some sort of conversation.

  ‘You OK?’ Sophie asked Alex as they wandered through Little Somerby towards the cider farm.

  ‘Yeah.’ Alex nodded, but still seemed a little faraway. He smiled down at her. ‘I guess I’m just a little tired.’

  Sophie suppressed a grin. It wasn’t really surprising; they’d spent a lot of the past few nights awake. There never seemed to be enough time for sleep before the sun started to rise on another day.

  ‘I just need to make a quick stop before we get to the party,’ Sophie said as they passed the large church at the crossroads. She was holding a bunch of pale pink roses, bought from the village florist earlier that afternoon. ‘It would have been Dad’s birthday tomorrow, and I wanted to put these on his grave. Do you mind?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Alex said. ‘Do you want to be by yourself? I can wait at the gate if you like.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘Actually, I’d quite like you to come with me,’ she said. ‘I know it sounds silly, but I’d like to introduce you to him. I think you’d have liked each other.’ She opened the wooden gate that led up to the churchyard and headed up the path. ‘Jack Carter’s buried here, too,’ Sophie said. ‘He’s a bit further back in the field. I like to think he gets a good view of the cider farm by being here. So much so, he’s probably still sticking his oar in from beyond the grave!’ Was she imagining it or did Alex’s hand clench in hers? ‘I’m sorry.’ She paused, and drew him round to face her. ‘I forget that I’ve had a lot of years to get used to being without my dad – you only lost your mum last year.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Forgive me?’

  Alex seemed to relax under her ga
ze. ‘Nothing to forgive,’ he said softly. ‘I guess it all just takes a bit of time.’ He reached out a hand and brushed Sophie’s cheek with his fingertips.

  ‘Dad’s over here,’ Sophie said, stepping from the path onto the grass. About three plots along was a dark marble headstone, inscribed with:

  Andrew Henderson

  beloved husband, cherished father and adored son

  and the dates. Sophie unwrapped the roses and picked up the steel vase that slotted into the headstone.

  ‘Would you like me to get some water for that?’ Alex asked as Sophie removed the dead blooms from the vase.

  ‘Yes, thanks, that would be great,’ Sophie replied. Watching Alex walk off to the tap in the corner of the churchyard, she murmured, ‘He’s lovely, isn’t he, Dad? I think so, anyway. I hope you would have, too.’ The image of the young man in the photos at home swum before her eyes. It felt strange that she was now two years older than he had been when he died. She couldn’t quite get her head around that.

  Returning, Alex passed her the vase and seemed to read her thoughts. ‘Your Dad was really young, wasn’t he?’ Alex said, looking at the dates on the headstone. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss. At least I had Mom until I was in my thirties.’

  Sophie nodded. ‘Mum always knew there was a chance Dad’s cancer could come back when she married him, but they were so happy together. They might not have had a lot of time, but they made the most of what they did have. Gran was devastated to lose him as well; she hardly ever talks about it, but I know, even twenty-seven odd years on, she still misses him.’

  ‘It must have been so hard to understand, as a kid.’

  ‘I don’t have any actual memories of my father,’ Sophie replied. ‘I was only two when he died. He’d had leukaemia in his teens, but he’d been in remission for years. When it came back, it was aggressive. My mum prepared me as best she could for the inevitable, and I guess I always felt I was lucky in some ways that I didn’t have to remember him gradually deteriorating, like she did. She loved him so, so much, and for a long time after he died my grandmother had to carry my mother – even though she was grieving the loss of a son, too. Eventually, she learned to live again. It took her a long time to move on. I think that’s why she went to live in France when she met Steve; she couldn’t quite move on from the memories, still living in our house.’