To not leave.
‘Your family love you. They needed you.’
‘Exactly. Past tense. Needed. My job’s done. I have another to go to. I’ve made commitments that I have to keep. With people who’ll book me again, and again. Who want me around.’
‘We want you around.’ Grey dipped down so his gaze was level with hers. ‘I want you around.’
The words she wanted to hear. Yearned to hear. And yet it was too little, too late. Grey should’ve said them hours ago, when she’d needed to feel part of the bigger picture, part of the festival, part of her own family.
‘And what would I do, Grey? Just sit on my bum and twiddle my thumbs until Dad felt brave enough to trust me with the farm? Listen to you tell me again and again that I was imagining not being given extra responsibilities, not being trusted.’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not a life I want to live.’
‘Please, Han.’
Grey’s eyes implored her to stay. Her resolve threatened to weaken. She wanted to be with Grey. More than anything.
But why does it have to be on his terms?
The wilful voice inside roused her to fight once more.
‘Why do I have to be the one to stay? Why can’t you come with me? You could move to London, find a job working in a park as a gardener or you could ask at one of the farms in the greater area if there’s work available. We could move to a new flat closer to a farming area so the commute wouldn’t be horrible for you. I’m travelling a lot anyway, so it wouldn’t be a big deal for me.’
Grey’s hands fell from the car to his sides. ‘Really? You’d expect me to leave everything I have? My home? The farm? A job I enjoy and people I love working for? To tinker about in a garden pulling weeds? Or be a farm worker, starting from scratch and earning a pittance?’
‘Well you’re expecting me to do the same.’ Hannah’s bottom lip threatened to tremble and she sucked it into her mouth before it could betray her feelings.
‘I’m asking you to come home where you belong.’
‘You’re asking me to give up everything I’ve worked for just so I can sit at home and be your little missus. Just once I wish someone would make the effort for me. Come see me. Holiday with me at mine. Move to be with me.’ She crossed her arms over her chest and looked past Grey. Not seeing the thinning crowds, or the picked-over fields, or the brilliance of the blue sky. ‘All that talk we had of a future when we were together, it always involved travelling together, discovering the world together.’ She met Grey’s eyes. ‘You’d have never done it though, Grey. Not really. You’re too comfortable here. You’re happy. It’s safe. It’s secure. You’ve created the life you always wanted. That you dreamed of. One without parents who yell, or leave, leaving one parent to worry that bills won’t be paid and food won’t be on the table three times a day. I can see why you won’t leave, even if it means losing something or someone you care about.’
Grey’s nostrils retracted as he inhaled sharply. His body stilled. Tense energy radiated off him.
Hannah held her breath and waited for the storm.
‘Unfair, Hannah.’
He’d used her full name. Proof she’d crossed a boundary by bringing up his family. His past. His pain. Did he hate her now? Hannah half-hoped so. It would mean leaving with a smidgen less guilt than that which threatened to consume her.
‘Yes I stayed because I’m happy here. Because it is comfortable for me. Because this is the life I aspired to. But you can’t blame me for that.’
‘I’m not trying t—’
Grey held a hand up, silencing her.
‘But you never gave me a chance to change my mind. To try something new. Not then when you left in the middle of the night without a single word. Not even now. Not until you were cornered and felt you had to, knowing all along I’d never leave, meaning you could leave with some peace of mind.’
He knew her so well. She hated that about him. Loved it about him too. Was there anything more comforting than someone who could predict what you’d do, who knew your ways of thinking so well – despite all the years apart – that you couldn’t hide anything from them? Those were the people who’d be there for you through the good and bad. Who’d celebrate your wins, and hold you before you even knew you had to be held.
She’d found that person, but she had to let him go in order to save herself from the constant paranoia and sense of not being enough that came with being home.
Better to stick with applying makeup, with something people loved and respected her for, than scrabble around in the summer dirt for little pieces of hope and recognition.
Grey took a step back. Another. Putting enough distance between them that she could turn and leave with ease.
‘Maybe I play it safe by staying, by not rocking the boat, by accepting the status quo, but you’re kidding yourself, Hannah, if you think you’re brave by leaving, by running away.’
Hannah shrugged. What else could she say? Could she do? Her work was done here; it was time to go.
Maybe time could repair this fresh wound that had appeared between her and Grey, but she doubted it. Best just to move on one last time.
Out of the corner of her eye Hannah could see her grandmother and mother approaching arm in arm, her father and grandfather trailing behind them deep in discussion. She couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t have another conversation about why she had to leave.
She opened the car door and jumped in. Shaking fingers slipped the key in the ignition and turned it. Her knuckles bloomed white and bulgy on the gear stick and steering wheel as she put the car in reverse and did a quick one-eighty before trundling down the drive as fast as she could. Her eyes firmly facing forward. Refusing to meet their eyes as they came to a standstill.
Refusing to listen to her heart that was screaming at her to fight, to be heard, to be seen.
To stay.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A yellowing leaf fell in front of Grey as he made his way up to the farmhouse for Sunday lunch. He glanced up through the moulting trees, took in the slate-coloured sky and mustered a tired smile as he realised not only did it match his name but also his mood. His mood for the last month.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself for letting the gloom continue to settle. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been through this before. Mourning the loss of Hannah wasn’t new territory. Yet this time felt different somehow. The first time he’d held the tiniest candle of hope that she would return, come back to the farm, come back to him. This time? The way they’d left things? All their angst spilling from their mouths onto the drive. Their hurt, their pain. How could anyone return from that?
He wandered around to the back of the house and entered the kitchen. The heat of the Aga hitting his face but not sinking into his soul where he needed its warmth most.
‘Grey, dear, you came.’ Finally. Sylvia didn’t utter the word but it rang clear through the room.
He’d avoided family dinners for weeks now. Giving excuse after excuse: meeting friends. Feeling tired. Wanting to catch up on shows and movies he’d missed during the frantic pace of the summer season.
Grey knew the Beetys saw straight through him, but being the good people they were they didn’t dig, didn’t push. Just let him be until he was ready to face them again. Ready to explain what had happened that day, how he’d not taken Hannah’s concerns seriously enough, how he’d pushed their daughter away, how he’d not fought hard enough for her to stay. How there’d been no point.
Grey leaned down, pecked Sylvia on her soft cheek then made his way to his spot at the table where his chair was already pulled out, like it missed his presence and was waiting for his return.
An image of Hannah flitted into his mind. He understood that feeling all too well.
‘Thanks for having me, Sylvia. There’s only so many tins of spaghetti a man can eat and television shows he can watch before he needs good food and even better company.’
‘Well we’re glad you could make it. We’ve m
issed you.’ Sylvia sat a glass of red wine in front of him and went back to slicing carrots and top and tailing beans.
‘Beans and carrots. Peas. Mashed potatoes?’ Grey guessed, a small smirk making its way to his lips as Sylvia’s hands flew to her hips in exasperation. He was glad it had been Sylvia who’d been in the kitchen when he’d arrived. Her easy way made him feel comfortable, made the guilt of keeping the Beetys at an arm’s length since Hannah had left more bearable[HN54][KW55].
‘Am I really that predictable?’ she huffed.
Grey took a sip of his wine and sat it down. ‘Aren’t we all?’
Especially himself. Wasn’t he the most predictable of all? According to Hannah, anyway. Unable to move. To change. To shift. To evolve.
‘Nothing wrong with a little predictability, Grey. Helps make us feel safe.’ Sylvia pulled the lamb out of the oven, tented it in foil and set it aside to rest. ‘Nothing wrong with shaking things up either, or having our lives shaken up. Sometimes the best growth comes out of our darkest moments.’
Grey pondered Sylvia’s words. Related them to the situation he found himself in.
Hannah’s taking off all those years ago had propelled her in the direction of a career that had seen her rise to the top. He knew she’d done well thanks to Sylvia dropping titbits of information here and there over the years, but not how well until he’d spent a night searching her on the internet. There’d been article after article mentioning her work, with actors and actresses singing her praises, and up-and-coming makeup artists noting her work and her work ethic an inspiration. Her public social media accounts had hundreds of thousands of followers.
Hannah wasn’t just good at her job, she was famous for it. And had she not fled, believing herself to be unwanted on the farm, she’d never have achieved the level of fame and success she had.
And she’d been willing to give it all up to be here with him? Until he’d pushed her away by not listening. Until she felt obliged to leave.
Grey sunk his head into his hands, his fingers finding purchase in his hair, squeezing away the ever-tightening pain in his head. Where had his growth been in all this? Nowhere. Stunted. He could’ve moved on, could’ve learned to listen; instead he’d chosen to walk his well-worn path, until he was stuck.
What a bloody mess.
He couldn’t even hate Hannah this time around. Not remotely. Not when he understood where she came from and how she saw the world, saw her place in the family. Who wouldn’t have taken off when after asking time and time again to be of use you were rebuffed and rejected? Each ‘no’ hammering home the story you’d told yourself for years – that you weren’t needed, or wanted.
‘Headache, son?’
Grey lifted his head and met Duncan’s worried eyes.
‘Need some ibuprofen? I can get you some.’
Grey shook his head as Duncan made to head back out towards the bathroom. ‘No, I’m fine. Just tired.’
‘Tired… or wondering what went wrong and how to make it right?’ Duncan slid into his chair at the head of one end of the table and nodded his thanks to Sylvia as she placed a glass of wine in front of him. ‘Because that’s what’s been going through my head since Han left.’
Grey cupped his chin in his hands and tried not to show the amazement he felt at Duncan’s opening up like that.
‘The old man’s got a heart. Who knew?’ Jill entered the room, her cheeks round and glowing once more. Her body vibrating good health.
Duncan reached out his hand and she caught it and gave it a squeeze as she sat to the right of him.
‘The biggest hearts are often the best hidden.’ Jill brought Duncan’s hand to her lips and kissed it. ‘You talking about Han?’
‘We are. Finally.’ Duncan nodded.
Surprise gripped Grey’s stomach. ‘You mean you haven’t already?’
‘We have. Here and there. Amongst ourselves.’ Duncan greeted Peter with a nod as he came in from outside, dusting his hands on his trousers. ‘But not as a whole family. It didn’t feel right to decide on anything until we all came together.’
The tightness in his belly crawled up into his heart, wrapped itself around and squeezed. The Beetys had waited for him to deal with his feelings? Didn’t want to take life post-Hannah further without his input?
‘Don’t look so surprised, lad.’ Peter clapped his large hand on Grey’s shoulder. ‘You’re family, too. Have been since you were knee-high. We’ve just been waiting for that girl of ours to figure things out and make it all official.’
‘And you think there’s no chance of that?’ Grey refused to acknowledge the cautious joy that filled every atom of his body as he realised what they were saying was that they believed he and Hannah were meant to be, and it was only a matter of time before they were a proper couple again.
Jill reached over and patted his cheek affectionately. ‘Never say never.’ She sat back and pushed out a chair for Sylvia, then picked up her fork and dinged it on the water glass. ‘I call this family meeting to order. There’s only one order of business today and that’s how to win our daughter back in a way that works for all.’
Sylvia sat on the edge of her seat. One eye on the pot that was beginning to bubble, causing its lid to rattle slightly. ‘Kidnap her, bring her home, hire in a hypnotist to convince her to stay. Job done.’ She slapped her hand on the table for emphasis, then stood up and began bustling about the cooker once more.
‘If only that wasn’t completely illegal and a violation of her rights.’ Jill clucked her tongue. ‘Has anyone been able to get hold of her?’
Duncan and Peter shook their heads.
‘Me neither. Her phone keeps going to message and my emails are going unanswered.’ Jill’s lips pressed together in a thin line. ‘Poor thing must feel horrible. She didn’t leave us in the dark last time. She at least called to let us know she was all right.’
‘I just don’t understand where it all went wrong?’ Peter’s lips pursed together in thought. ‘She seemed to enjoy being here. She was so animated, funny. Pitched in even when we didn’t ask. I don’t know why she left the way she did. She could’ve at least said goodbye and given us a hug before going back to that fancy life of hers.’
‘Maybe she did what she did because she didn’t want to go back, but felt she had no choice?’ Grey piped up, realising the Beetys hadn’t put two and two together. Still didn’t understand what Hannah wanted and needed from them. From him. ‘The day of the festival did she ask you if she could help out?’
‘At the shop.’ Sylvia pulled the potatoes off the Aga and drained them.
‘With setting up water stations.’ Duncan closed his eyes and slumped in his chair.
‘She offered to get my reading glasses for me, and to make the coffees for you.’ Jill shook her head. ‘I should’ve said yes…’ Jill rubbed the side of her face wearily. ‘Because then she would’ve felt wanted. Helpful. Like she belonged.’
‘Which is all she’s ever wanted.’ Grey wished he could take that day back. Wished he could do it differently. Wished he could’ve made Hannah stay. Made her see how important she was to everyone in that kitchen. ‘For us to believe in her. To listen to her. To hear her. Instead she fought to find a place on the farm and just when she thought she’d found it, we told her we didn’t need her.’
‘Which she equates to not being wanted,’ Jill filled in. ‘And it didn’t help that we were all so busy being convinced she was happy with her lot that we kept encouraging her to go back. I know I did.’
‘As did I.’ Duncan shook his head at himself. ‘I was trying to be supportive. But I guess it came across as wanting her to leave…’
‘Exactly.’ Grey watched as Peter stood and moved to the bench next to Sylvia and began carving the meat as she made the gravy. What would it be like to be that in sync? To have decades of love between you? To know the other person would have your back through thick and thin? What kind of compromise did that involve? What did those compromises look like? A
nd was he capable of making the biggest compromise of all?
Switching a life he loved for a woman he loved even more?
His body froze at the thought. Could he do it? Was it possible for someone like him, someone whose goal in life was to be as steady and simple as possible, to keep everything on an even drama-free keel, to uproot his entire everything and move it for hope?
For love?
Warmth bloomed in his heart and flooded the chill that had settled. Pushed his fears aside, gave him the strength to believe in himself, in his feelings, in his love for Hannah. Because he did love her. Loved her for as long as he could remember. First as a friend, then as a partner. More than a partner. A soulmate. His one. His only.
Had he not loved her so deeply he wouldn’t have held on to the hurt for all these years. Wouldn’t have kept it close. Wouldn’t have used it as shield that stopped any other woman from getting close. Most importantly, he’d never have been able to fall in love with her again if that love had gone forever the first time she’d left. If the hate had been true.
‘Well, since kidnapping is off the agenda, what are we going to do?’ Sylvia laid a heaving platter of lamb, roast potatoes, roast parsnips and Yorkshire pudding in the centre of the table, followed by dishes of cauliflower cheese, and peas, beans and carrots.
‘Can you imagine how good she’d be for the farm if we gave her the chance to commit?’ Jill turned a beady eye on Duncan. ‘If we actually listened to her ideas and let her implement them, instead of sticking with the tried and true path? I mean look what she came up with to save the festival? It was brilliant. She was brilliant.’
To his credit, Duncan flushed, obviously knowing his past attitudes had a lot to do with Hannah’s leaving. ‘I’m a stubborn old mule, but I think even I can get on board with some of those ideas of hers. Although if she expects me to touch a computer she can bugger off with herself. Again.’ Duncan deadpanned.
Sunrise at Strawberry Farm: As delightfully delicious as strawberries and cream, this is the perfect summer romance to read in 2020. Page 20