Summer in the Orchard

by Fay Keenan

  As they turned to leave, Alex went back to Lily. Without stopping to think about it, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. ‘Thank you,’ he whispered. ‘For everything.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ Lily replied. ‘Although I assume there’s still a conversation to be had with my granddaughter.’

  Alex nodded. ‘I’d like to talk to her but I’m not sure she wants to speak to me again, though.’

  ‘Give her time,’ Lily said. ‘It’s a lot to take in. For all of us.’ Watching the two men leave, she was again stunned with just how long Alex had managed to keep the truth quiet. The resemblance between the brothers really was quite startling. You couldn’t make it up, she thought wryly. Picking up her mobile phone, which lay on the side table in the hallway, she tried to ring Sophie, but was immediately put through to her voicemail. She hoped that once Alex and his new brothers were finished, poor Sophie would get the answers that she, too, deserved.

  36

  ‘I think this is going to call for some serious alcohol.’ Matthew poured three generous glasses of whisky with a less than steady hand. Glancing up as the door to his study opened, he shook his head as Anna poked hers around the door. ‘It’s fine.’ Smiling gently, she closed the door again.

  Alex sat down in the leather Chesterfield armchair that stood on one side of the fireplace, as far away from Jonathan, who was sitting on the cushioned window seat, as he could be. Once he’d poured and distributed the drinks, Matthew sat in the other armchair. Alex was at a complete loss as to where to begin with the men who now knew he was their half-brother, so he was warily grateful when Jonathan began to speak.

  ‘I’m sorry I was so rude to you this morning. I suppose I was in such a state of shock that I just automatically went on the defensive. It’s a trait that’s more often seen in my big brother, but I guess we’re more alike than we realise.’

  Alex took a sip of the whisky, which warmed his throat. ‘It’s understandable, under the circumstances,’ he said. ‘I should have levelled with you at the start, not just come here and waited for it all to come out. I guess I wasn’t brave enough.’ He laughed hollowly. ‘Stupid, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not really,’ Matthew said, sipping his own drink. ‘You walked into one of the most tribal families in Somerset. I don’t think I’d have felt too brave, either.’

  ‘My mother would be ashamed of me,’ Alex said quietly. Suddenly he had a vision of Addie, serious brown eyes boring into his as they had done ever since he was a small boy. ‘She’d have expected better of her son.’

  ‘Perhaps she’d have understood,’ Jonathan said quietly. ‘Our mother would certainly have kicked my arse for reacting the way I did, and as for Dad…’ He laughed, but the sound was hollow. ‘He was one of the most hospitable men I’ve ever known. He’d have bawled me out for throwing you out of the farm, once I knew who you were.’

  ‘Mom didn’t talk much about him until the end,’ Alex said reflectively, ‘but she did say he had the kind of charm that could turn a room to his favour. I’d have liked to have seen that in action.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, it was worth seeing.’ Matthew smiled, and this time the warmth reached his eyes. ‘He prided himself on being able to sell anyone anything. And most of the time he succeeded.’ Swallowing another mouthful of whisky, he put the glass down on the occasional table next to his chair.

  ‘I’m sorry about your mother.’ He leaned forward and rested elbows on his knees, hands loosely clenched in front of him. ‘We were luckier, I suppose. Mum was diagnosed with lymphoma in the early eighties, but she was in remission for twenty years. When the breast cancer came, it was a different story. She tried to fight it but it was stage four by the time she realised. Dad nearly lost his mind when she died. He spent weeks after the funeral locked away in the bungalow, and whenever Jonathan or I went to see him he’d just ramble on about how he never deserved her, that he wished he’d treated her better.’ Matthew swallowed. ‘Of course, I had a fair idea that he’d had other women, but I had no clue that your mother had meant so much to him.’

  Alex felt his throat constrict at the rawness in Matthew’s voice. Since discovering Jack was his father, he’d often wondered if the relationship had meant as much to Jack as it had to Addie. She’d never spoken badly of Jack; in fact, the little she did say about him, towards the very end of her life, had been positive, but he’d always wondered if that positivity had been deserved.

  ‘My mother made the choice for him,’ Alex said quietly. ‘Just before she died, she said that she’d chosen to walk away, to leave him be. As far as I know he never knew I existed. It was the bravest thing I can imagine. She chose to keep me, and raise me alone. But she didn’t bear Jack any ill will for that decision; it was made out of love.’ He rubbed his fingertips across the bridge of his nose and over his eyes. ‘She didn’t want him to feel he owed her anything. And for thirty-five years she kept the secret.’

  ‘She sounds like quite a woman.’

  ‘She was.’

  The brothers lapsed into silence, preoccupied with their own memories.

  ‘I did meet him once, though, although I didn’t realise who he was at the time.’

  Matthew’s head snapped up. ‘Really? When was that?’

  Alex smiled at the memory. ‘It was when I was about ten years old. Mom had brought me to England to show me some of the tourist trail. We stayed in the centre of London and did all of the most famous landmarks. I fell in love with Hampton Court Palace just as she’d done when she’d come to London as a student. Just as we were about to go back to the hotel for the evening and go out for dinner, my mother took me into the Rose Garden at the palace. The evening seemed to bring out the scents so strongly, and I remember finding the mixture of perfumes almost overwhelming. There, standing off to one side, looking over the gardens, was a man.’ Alex gave a quiet laugh. ‘I remember thinking that it was the first time I’d ever seen my mother blush, but she walked straight up to him and said, “Hello, Jack.”’

  Matthew felt his stomach flip; it was as if Alex was talking about a man other than the father he knew. In a sense, he supposed he was. ‘Then what?’

  ‘Jack shook my hand and said he was an old acquaintance of my mother’s. I was ten years old and didn’t understand quite what was going on, but he was kind, and funny, and he bought me one of those enormous ice creams. While I was stuck into the ice cream, he and my mother spoke briefly, but I never got any indication that he was my father. She’d married Harry by then, so he must have just assumed that I was Harry’s son. I was quite small for my age back then, so he might not have put two and two together. My mother never let on that she’d said anything, and Jack certainly didn’t seem to make the connection. Then he left.’

  ‘And that was the only time you ever met him?’

  Alex nodded. ‘It wasn’t until just before Mom died, and we’d started going through some of her things, that I found the photo of him at Kennedy Falls and realised.’

  ‘Christ,’ Matthew breathed. ‘All these years…’

  Alex looked out of the large window that overlooked Matthew’s rambling garden and clutched his glass of whisky a little tighter. How things had changed since the last time he visited Cowslip Barn. Back then he’d been a guest of his boss; now he had walked through the door as something entirely different.

  Jonathan, who’d slipped out of the room during this conversation, suddenly re-emerged, Cheshire-cat-like. Grabbing the whisky decanter, he paused to top up his glass, then Matthew’s, and finally Alex’s. ‘I guess I owe you an apology as well as a top up,’ he said gruffly as he pulled up another chair and sat a little closer to his brothers. ‘I shouldn’t have gone off at you the way I did. I was in shock, I suppose. And Caroline’s mood swings have been running me ragged, too.’ At Alex’s quizzical look, Jonathan clarified. ‘She’s pregnant.’

  ‘Congratulations,’ Alex said quietly. ‘And thanks for the apology.’ He sipped his drink ruminatively. In a few months’ time,
both of his half-brothers would be parents. The next generation of Carters would be assured. Once again he felt a churning mixture of guilt, love and frustration about being in the midst of it all.

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Jonathan continued. ‘With Dad having never been in the picture for you, we want to make it up to you. My big brother, our big brother, is far too diplomatic to just jump right in and say it, but we feel that our father owes you; that he’d want you to benefit from what he built.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘That was never why I came here.’ He turned to face Jonathan and was, yet again, taken aback by the contrast between the two brothers. While he could see the similarities in stature and bone structure, their colouring was as different as night and day. Matthew’s dark hair and deep brown eyes must have come from their mother Cecily, whereas Jonathan’s chestnut hair and clear blue eyes could only be from Jack. ‘I don’t need your help financially.’

  ‘We know that,’ Jonathan said patiently. ‘From what you’ve told us about Adelaide’s, you’ve potentially got a goldmine on your hands with the apple blends you’ve been trying. That orchard you bought is something that will last for generations if cared for properly. Adelaide’s could be a name to be reckoned with in North America.’

  Alex shook his head. ‘With all due respect, Jonathan, I’m not sure that I want that. Adelaide’s was never intended to be anything other than a kitchen table business; an artisan brand. I don’t want what you’ve got here. It’s overwhelming.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Alex!’ Jonathan snorted. ‘You and I both know that you didn’t just come here out of some sense of curiosity. Cider’s as much in your blood as it is ours; that’s obvious from the fact you bought a fucking orchard! Let us come on board with you. You get your autonomy, but also the backing of a world famous brand.’

  ‘No,’ Alex replied. ‘It doesn’t feel right. I never needed Jack Carter when I was growing up, and I don’t need his sons’ misguided senses of legacy and loyalty now he’s dead. I came here to close a book, not write a new chapter, and I’ve done that.’ He turned from Jonathan to Matthew. ‘Please understand,’ he said, lowering his voice a little, ‘I need to do this for myself, and for my mother. All I want from you is acknowledgement. No more, no less.’

  Jonathan shook his head. ‘A noble sentiment, I’m sure. But the offer is there, when you need it. I know that Dad would have wanted to make up for his absence somehow, and since he’s not here to do it himself, we want to make sure that happens.’

  ‘You’ve done enough already.’ Alex looked from one Carter brother to the other. ‘I’ve learned so much from being here; about Jack, about the business. About…’ He stopped himself just in time. Admitting how he felt about Sophie was going to take a lot more alcohol and a lot more courage than he currently had. ‘I don’t need anything else from you.’

  ‘Well, as I said, the offer’s there if you change your mind.’ Jonathan turned to Matthew. ‘Matthew here’s been running this business for over fifteen years now, and if he scents a winning proposition, you can pretty much guarantee you’re onto something. He’s a good ally to have.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ Alex said wryly. He trusted Matthew instinctively; the man’s integrity shone out from every pore. Jonathan, on the other hand, he still couldn’t fathom. But then he had a lifetime to catch up on, he supposed. Glancing at his watch, he finished his drink. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I’d better get going.’

  ‘Somewhere to be?’ Jonathan asked, a glint in his eye.

  ‘I owe someone an explanation,’ Alex replied. ‘Quite a big explanation, in fact. And the last time she saw me, she wasn’t minded to listen to what I had to say.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Jonathan said. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the concept of a feisty female; his wife, Caroline, had made him run that gauntlet on a number of occasions. ‘If she loves you, she’ll listen.’

  Alex felt his cheeks burning under Jonathan’s scrutiny. ‘I hope so.’ Placing his glass down on the windowsill, he made his exit.

  37

  Sophie got home from work that evening and thanked her lucky stars that her mother had put their weekly Skype call on hold. The shock of Alex’s revelation was only just starting to sink in. He wasn’t the person he’d said he was; he’d been lying to her from day one. And yet, when she’d seen the pain and anguish in his dark brown eyes as he’d finally told her the truth, there was a part of her that couldn’t deny his sincerity.

  But that didn’t alter the fact that he’d lied to her. She’d made it clear to him from the start that she’d been hurt so badly by Mark’s dishonesty that she needed better; that she needed him to be better. And he wasn’t who he’d said he was, so she felt as though everything they’d experienced together had been irrevocably cheapened by that revelation.

  Heading to the kitchen, she opened the fridge, and was pleased to see that the bottle of cava she’d put in there in anticipation of sharing it with Alex was nicely chilled. She figured she might as well drink it now. And, feeling mutinous and a bit ‘fuck it’, she decided to order the hottest curry she could eat from the local takeaway as well. As a taster who had to preserve her palate, she shouldn’t have even contemplated it, but after the day she’d had, she was past caring. While she was scanning the menu and deciding what to choose, she heard her phone pinging with an email. Swiping the screen, she blinked; Martingtons Cider was increasing the terms of their job offer. The salary was nearly double what she was currently earning at Carter’s. Given her current frame of mind, there didn’t seem to be much of a decision to make. Perhaps it really was time to get out of Somerset; to move on.

  But what the hell was she going to do about Alex in the meantime? How could she face him after their last conversation? Then, she kicked herself; she wasn’t some heartbroken teenager. She was nearly thirty, for heaven’s sake! If she couldn’t maintain an air of dignity after a break-up then she was nothing better than the silly girl she’d accused Alex of thinking her when they’d had their final, catastrophic row. So what if he’d lied to her? People lied all the time. At least, now Jonathan had fired him, she wouldn’t have to share a workplace with him any more. If she happened to see Alex around the village, or bump into him at her grandmother’s house, she’d maintain a decent, polite distance. That was the plan and she’d stick to it. Right after she’d spent tonight drinking cava, eating curry and watching as many Keanu Reeves films as she could squeeze in before she passed out.

  A little time later, halfway through John Wick: Chapter 2 and three quarters of the way down her bottle of cava, Sophie was dimly aware of the doorbell ringing. Putting down her glass, she thought about opening it, but, realising she was more than a little the worse for wear, decided to ignore it for now.

  The ringing continued. ‘Oh, go away,’ she muttered, topping up her glass.

  The doorbell rang again, and this time someone called through the letter box. ‘Sophie. Let me in.’

  ‘You’ve got to be joking,’ Sophie said as Mark’s familiar tone echoed through the hallway.

  Mark obviously thought otherwise, leaning on the bell. Sophie was forced to get up to make him stop before the neighbours complained.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, opening the door a fraction.

  ‘I saw your face after that twat Alex spoke to you earlier and I was worried.’

  ‘You were worried about me? That’s rich, after what you’ve put me through.’

  ‘Have you been drinking?’

  ‘Not nearly enough to have this conversation,’ Sophie snapped. ‘Now bugger off and leave me alone.’

  Mark, however, had other ideas. ‘Let me in, Soph. Please.’ Suddenly, despite everything, the gentleness in his voice began to disarm Sophie. Her eyes filled with tears and she opened the door a little wider.

  Mark wandered through to the hallway and, taking Sophie’s half-empty glass from her hand, put it down on the hall table. ‘I think you’ve had enough of that.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that,�
�� Sophie said, feeling more than a little patronised. She went to pick up the glass again, but Mark’s hand on her arm stopped her.

  ‘Come and sit down.’ Sliding his hand into hers, he led her back to the living room and sat on the sofa with her. He regarded her carefully. ‘He’s messed you up, hasn’t he?’

  Sophie swallowed hard. ‘No worse than you did.’

  Mark shook his head. ‘If there was any way I could take back what happened with you and me, the way it ended, I would. You didn’t deserve it. You deserve someone who’ll take care of you.’

  Sophie felt the tears sliding down her cheeks, unbidden. Mark’s tone was so gentle and reminded her so much of how things had been between them before they fell apart. But there had been so much water under the bridge since then, and there was no going back. Suddenly, though, she felt an overwhelming need to talk, to make sense of it all.

  ‘He lied to me,’ she said numbly. ‘And you, of all people, worked it out, didn’t you?’ She shook her head. ‘How did I not see it?’

  ‘We see what we want to see,’ Mark replied. He squeezed her hand. ‘And I might have been a twat to you, but at least I was honest until the end.’ His tone was caressing.

  Sophie’s heart lurched. ‘The end was pretty brutal, though.’

  ‘I can’t excuse that,’ Mark replied. ‘But seeing the way you reacted to him this morning, the way he’d hurt you… I just had to come and make sure you weren’t spending the evening brooding.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, I’ve been through worse.’ Sophie laughed hollowly. She fought the urge to tell Mark about losing their baby, but, even though she’d had a few glasses of wine, she knew that wouldn’t solve anything. What was done was done. It wouldn’t get them back together, and that wasn’t what she wanted, anyway.

  ‘I know.’ Mark hesitated, then slid his arm around Sophie. Much against her better judgement, she snuggled into his embrace. It felt so comforting just to be held, even after everything.