Hayley almost choked on a piece of mango at the last one, snorting as she laughed. “That sounds like the English all right. So how did you end up here, Ellie?”
With that last question, the laughter stopped, and Ellie let the mango peel drop to the ground. She avoided Hayley’s gaze and cut another piece of mango.
“It’s… not a good story,” she said with a shrug. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I like it here. This is my home now. Tate… he’s like a father—to us all, I suppose. Some of us don’t have families anymore. We made our own because we had to. We need each other.”
Hayley nodded, understanding the idea of making a new family. Even though she missed her parents, there had been so many days when she felt as though she didn’t fit into her family. She’d needed to get out. To breathe. And she had. By running away. How many more of the people here had done the same? How many had run away from their families? Run away from their problems?
“Is it safe here?” Hayley asked in a quiet voice. “I know you say it’s like a family, but families aren’t always… nice. Are they?”
Ellie’s eyes finally met hers, and the seriousness was back. “This is your new home, Hayley. We will keep you safe. Tate will keep you safe.”
A shiver ran through Hayley. Ellie’s earnestness had touched her, but it also made her feel uneasy. Was she right in thinking Ellie was a little odd? Just eccentric? Or was she more vulnerable than that? Someone who shouldn't be working alone so far away from home for instance. Or was it just the accent and the serious demeanour? Hayley got back to work and couldn’t stop thinking about what Ellie’s background might be. But at the same time, she couldn’t stop thinking about her own future too. Now that she was here, what was she going to do?
17
Gemma
Gemma reached inside the collar of her shirt to scratch her shoulder. Sweat and mango stem sap was making her itch like crazy. She was already sick of the sweet smell of the fields, and she wasn’t even that fond of mangoes in the first place. Most of the mangoes they were picking were slightly underripe, but the mangoes at the very tops of the trees had ripened enough to emit cloying scents everywhere.
Ellie had sent her out here to Field C, pairing her with a guy who seemed high on drugs, who laughed at his own bad jokes and barely taught her what she was supposed to be doing. His body had the doughy softness and puffy round cheeks of an overgrown toddler.
He said his name was Freddy when she asked him, but he wouldn’t tell her where he was from, insisting that his life was on the farm now. She wasn’t good with accents, but she guessed he was British, just with a different accent to Hayley—a harsher, more nasal tone.
The only relief from Freddy was the music that constantly blared out from speakers in the fields. She tried to focus on the songs she liked and block out the guy’s inane chatter.
By eleven in the morning, she was wilting like lettuce in a day-old salad. She was used to heat, but not heat like this. This heat made her feel like her skin was in danger of melting from her bones.
A voice came over the loudspeakers—echoing through the fields—announcing it was time for lunch. Exhausted, she followed the streams of tired backpackers to the food hall.
Hayley was waiting for her outside the hall, her face red and flushed from the sun. “How was it?”
“I’m dying for a shower.”
“Definitely. Every muscle in my body is throbbing. And my head too.” She gave a groaning sigh, pulling the bucket hat from her head. “Ellie’s kind of strange. One minute she’s fun, and the next she’s bossing me around. Maybe she’s just trying to do a good job here and she doesn’t know how.”
“You were paired with Ellie this morning?”
“Yeah.”
“She is strange. Her brain seems a bit understaffed, if you know what I mean. I have no idea why she got put in charge.”
Hayley nodded in agreement. “Who did you get put with?”
“Dude named Freddy. A complete weirdo.”
They stepped inside the hall. Hayley turned to Gemma in surprise—the layout was nothing like it’d been the night before. Large, Moroccan-style floor cushions were scattered in a loose semicircle—the tables and chairs all neatly stacked along a wall. The shades were drawn, making the daylight disappear except for a rich, multihued sunlight spilling in from the high stained-glass windows.
A rich aroma of coconut and spices filled the air. Gemma and Hayley swung around, watching a group of people busy at work in the kitchen. A long line of bowls was lined up on a bench.
Everyone was dead silent as they entered. There was none of the jostle and banter of dinner last night.
Hayley looked around. “Why is everyone so quiet?” She motioned towards a big wicker basket at the front of the room. “Look, that’s where they’re keeping everyone’s phones.”
“Shhhh!” a small redheaded girl cautioned them with an annoyed expression.
Gemma and Hayley exchanged confused glances, shrugging. They chose cushions near the back of the semicircle and sat cross-legged. The entire farm of workers was now sitting quietly, like a class of compliant children.
Gemma furtively eyed the crowd, trying to see if she could spot Clay. Finding him sitting next to the Irish guy, Eoin, she shot him a smile. His eyes met hers, and he returned the smile. She swivelled around again to face the front, trying to get comfortable on the cushion. After hours of fruit picking, her muscles felt like they were seizing up.
A small group of workers moved out from the kitchen with trolleys laden with steaming bowls of soup, and they began distributing them among the others. The soup was a Thai dish—thick, spiced coconut with strips of ripe mango. Despite Gemma not being a fan of mangoes, the soup tasted wonderful.
As she sipped at the hot soup on her spoon, she felt her muscle pains begin to fade away. She felt good.
When the people around them finished their soup, they placed the bowls in front of them. But they remained silent and didn’t move.
Gemma and Hayley copied the others, putting their bowls down and waiting.
“What are we waiting for?” Hayley said in a low voice.
Gemma shrugged, frowning.
A tall figure walked in, his stride and posture oozing confidence. He wore his loose, casual clothing like a runway model. His hair was clipped short, a light covering of facial hair accentuating the handsome angles of his face.
There was no denying that the man had a strong presence. She watched him walk through the hall, unable to take her eyes from him.
“Has to be the big boss guy. Tate Llewellyn,” Hayley muttered under her breath. “I saw him earlier.”
Gemma nodded. It made perfect sense that he was the farm’s owner. The way he stood and looked at all of them, she could believe that he owned the entire world.
Tate stood silently at the front of the semicircle, beaming.
“I trust you all enjoyed your lunch. We work hard, and then we replenish. It’s yet another perfect day at the farm,” he began.
Another perfect day, came the immediate chorus. Every worker in unison.
Hayley stared at Gemma with wide eyes.
“We give thanks for the harvest and thanks that we are all here together. Every day is a celebration,” he continued.
The chorus followed with every day is a celebration.
“Freaky,” Hayley said in a whisper so low she barely caught it.
“Yeah,” Gemma whispered back.
Tate paused for a moment, inhaling a deep breath. The entire room did the same. He seemed to have them in the palm of his hand.
“We’ve come a long way since our beginnings,” he said. “I’m proud to offer not only a farm in which to work and earn a living but a haven. A place away from the stresses of everyday life. Many of you have troubled pasts. You had people who didn’t love and care for you in the way you deserved. But here, you leave them and those troubles behind. We are a family and will remain your family after you leave us.” He pause
d. “And now,” he said, “it’s time to welcome two new members of our family. You know who you are. Please come to me.”
Hayley tugged on Gemma’s sleeve. Awkwardly, they unfolded themselves from their sitting positions and then rose and picked their way through the group, taking care not to step on anyone’s bowl.
Tate greeted them with open arms. The next minute, they found themselves facing the group, Tate’s arms around each of them.
“Introduce yourselves, girls, so that we all may know who you are.”
Hayley spoke first. “I’m Hayley. I come from York, England. I went to school at Queen Margaret's and—”
“Hayley,” Tate gently admonished. “None of those things are you. They are things about you. But they are not you. Tell us things that would remain true about your soul, no matter where you happened to be born into this world.”
“Oh… uh,” Hayley faltered. “Well, I like to travel, I guess that's why I'm here so far away from home. I'm really hoping none of those mouse spiders come out at night. Um, I dunno what else.” She shrugged and sighed. “I guess I'm here to get away from it all, you know? I'm not sure what I'll find here, but I hope I find what I need.” Hayley's smile turned shy, and she wrapped her arms protectively around her body.
Welcome home, Hayley, everyone responded. The farm is your home. We are your family.
“Um, thank you.” Hayley’s voice was small and seemed to be laden with as much confusion as emotion.
Gemma tried to swallow the hard lump in her throat, a lump that felt as large and firm as a mango seed. Tate squeezed her shoulder in encouragement.
“Okay, so, I’m Gemma,” she began. “I grew up in a country area, running around on my own a lot. I wasn’t one for console games and computers. Couldn’t keep me inside. I used to like watching things grow and becoming something else. Like tadpoles to frogs. I’d keep them in an old fish tank and watch it happen.” She thought for a moment. “Storms make me anxious. And animals with teeth. When I was three, a dog bit me. I still have the scar.”
“Good girl,” whispered Tate, his lips almost brushing Gemma’s ear. A shiver turned warm as it made its way down from her neck to encompass her entire body. For a split second, she imagined herself with Tate, alone. She could almost feel herself in his arms and hear him talking with in that low, reassuring voice.
The chorus echoed around the hall. Welcome home, Gemma. The farm is your home. We are your family.
Gemma bowed her head to hide the rush of heat in her cheeks.
“Thank you, girls,” said Tate. “Now, everyone, what day is it today?”
Harvest Friday, came the swift response.
“Indeed it is.” Tate smiled widely, like a Sunday School teacher impressed with his students’ knowledge. “And what do we do on Harvest Fridays?”
We harvest, they replied.
“Yes, that’s exactly what we do.” He sighed warmly. “I have business to attend to, but I’ll be with you all again at tomorrow night’s celebration. Please, let’s give thanks for everything we have.”
We give thanks for all we have, came the chorus yet again.
Dropping his arms from Gemma and Hayley’s shoulders, he gave a slight nod to each of them and then walked from the hall. Gemma watched his tall frame as he exited.
The atmosphere relaxed, people taking their bowls to the kitchen and quietly talking among themselves.
“What’s Harvest Friday?” Hayley asked Gemma nervously. “I mean, we were harvesting all morning, right? Sounds like they’re going to work us even harder or something.”
“God, I hope not.” Gemma sucked her lips in. She didn’t want to admit it, but the sensation of Tate’s touch was still drifting in her mind. She shoved the thought away. “What did you think of that loopy little welcome ceremony?”
“Felt like we accidentally walked into some kind of support group.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
Ellie walked up and commandeered Gemma and Hayley into the kitchen. “Families help each other,” she told them. “I always get the new people into the kitchen to clean up. It helps them to settle in more quickly. Giving and receiving is what we do here.”
“Ellie,” said Hayley in an uncertain tone, “what was all the chanting about?”
“It’s just something we do.” Ellie flashed her a smile. “It’s calming. Didn’t you find it calming?”
“I don’t know,” Hayley replied. “It was just weird. I didn’t expect anything like this.”
Gemma hung back at the doorway. “It was super weird.”
“I’m sorry…” Wincing, Ellie hesitated for a moment then smiled brightly. “Look, you’ll soon get used to the rhythm of things around here. Okay, I’ll show you where everything is.”
Ellie pointed out the where plates, cutlery, and the food were kept around the kitchen.
“Why so many of these?” Hayley indicated towards the bottom drawer she’d just opened. It was filled with disposable eye droppers.
“Oh, they’re just used on the odd occasion when we happen to use the expensive spices.” Ellie flicked the drawer shut lightly with her foot. “Any other questions?”
She was quick to leave, before Gemma had time to put the questions in her head into words.
Watching Ellie scurry away into the hall, Gemma began rinsing the mountains of piled-up bowls. “Did she seem a bit nervous to you?”
Hayley carried a pile of bowls across to the bench nearest to the sink, her eyes anxious. “Yeah, she did. And what kind of spices was she talking about? I hope it’s not magic mushrooms or something.”
“Magic mushrooms? Are they even a spice?”
“It’s just… I feel a bit spacey.”
“I feel really relaxed.” Gemma frowned. “You don’t think they put something in our lunch, do you?”
“Just to be sure, why don’t we have a look and see what they’ve got in that spice cupboard that Ellie showed us?”
“Might as well. We’re supposed to familiarise ourselves with the kitchen, right?”
She helped Hayley drag a stepladder across and then climbed up the stairs.
“Hmmm, lots of chili powders,” Gemma reported, peering into the high cupboard. “Uh, vanilla bean extract, cardamom, star anise, pepper… cloves, turmeric, garam masala—I think that’s a mix. Um, and liquid saffron—”
“Saffron’s super expensive,” said Hayley, standing close behind her. “I know because I go with my mum to the Indian food shops when she’s stocking up her kitchen. The type she buys costs about seven thousand pounds per hundred grams. Maybe that’s what Ellie meant?”
Gemma twisted back to Hayley, pulling a dubious expression. “How can a spice cost that much? Jeez, you could practically sell that on the street like a drug.”
Hayley giggled. “Yes, but they’d probably cut it with cheap curry powder.”
Gemma laughed, almost tripping as she stepped down from the ladder. Reaching up to catch Gemma, Hayley had another fit of giggles.
“Okay, so maybe saffron’s the spice that’s so super-duper expensive they’ve got to dole it out in eye droppers,” said Gemma, smiling and shrugging. “I guess we’d better get some of these dishes done before they wonder what we’re doing in here.”
Gemma drained the sink and then refilled it with hot, soapy water.
Hayley sobered, drying the bowl that Gemma handed to her. “I was overreacting. The spaciness I’m feeling is probably just a bit of heatstroke.”
“Yeah, I guess. It was hot as hell out there. But what about that chanting? Did you think that everyone looked a bit zoned out?”
“Yes, I noticed a bit of that. But mostly, I was just so nervous being made to stand there in front of them all.”
Gemma eyed her friend. “They were so zoned out. I mean, they’re a bunch of fruit pickers. But they’re sitting around chanting like meditating monks.”
“It’s crazy when you think about it. Just what kind of place is this?” Opening a cupboard, Hayley shoved t
he bowl inside. “I know we practically just got here, but something doesn’t feel right.”
“Yeah.”
Hayley’s forehead pulled into a tight frown. “I don’t want to feel like that. This is supposed to be an adventure.”
“Hey, I’m feeling it too,” she said gently then hesitated. “So, we’ll hit the road again and see where it takes us?”
Hayley shook her head emphatically, flicking the cupboard door shut. “I… I can’t. Wild horses couldn’t drag me back there.”
Gemma pushed back hair from her face with the heel of her hand, trying and failing not to get suds on her skin. “The road’s not so bad.”
“Yes, it is. It’s bad.”
“Well, it’s all we’ve got. The other farms on that fruit-picking leaflet brochure you had were all full up. And we don’t have a backup plan.”
“Why’d this place have to be full of weirdos? After coming all this way, the last thing I thought is that we’d have to turn around and take off again.” Hayley crinkled her eyes shut, drawing her arms in tight around herself.
Gemma didn’t know whether it was frustration or anger that suddenly needled her. She scrubbed a dish in fierce circles. “At least you have options.”
Hayley blinked her eyes open. “What options?”
“You’re a rich girl from a rich family,” she blurted. “Not me. I’ve got nothing. I spent my last cent on that bus trip. But I bet the shoes on my feet that your parents would send you money or pay your way home if you asked them to.”
Hayley physically recoiled from the stinging words. “That’s not fair, Gemma. They would send money if I was desperate. But that would mean giving up, wouldn’t it? It’d mean going back to York.”
“If you told them what your ex-boyfriend did to you—”
“No. I’m doing this alone, without them.” She shook her head. “I don’t want to even think about this anymore.”
Gemma stopped scrubbing the dish, her shoulders sinking as her anger dissolved. She cast a look of sympathy at her friend. “Sorry for bringing all that up.”
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