The Little Orchard on the Lane: An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘For her sake I hope not,’ Posy said.

  ‘Hello, you two!’

  They both turned to see Karen at the doorway and Posy wondered if her mum was feeling as shifty as she was, having just been gossiping about their host. Well, not gossiping exactly, though depending on what Karen had caught it might have sounded that way. Still, she didn’t look too troubled and she was smiling at them now.

  ‘I see you managed to get your drinks already. I expect Pavla sorted them out, did she?’

  ‘Yes,’ Carmel said. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here – something came up.’

  ‘Pavla told us,’ Posy said. ‘Nothing too serious, I hope.’

  ‘Oh, nothing I couldn’t handle,’ Karen said cheerily. ‘Although I could do with a stiff drink myself about now.’

  Without waiting for a reply she went to the bar and poured herself a measure of brandy, taking a large, neat mouthful as soon as she had. They’d never noticed any evidence of a drink problem before, but the way she went at this one now had Posy wondering.

  ‘Right,’ Karen announced briskly as she knocked back the remaining alcohol and dumped the glass in a sink behind the bar. ‘I’d better go and check Ray’s OK with dinner. Come through when you’re ready, ladies!’

  Posy and Carmel smiled brightly and watched her leave. Then Posy turned to her mum.

  ‘Do you think she’s alright?’ she asked in a low voice.

  ‘Oh, I think so,’ Carmel said. ‘From what I’ve seen of her she’s equipped to deal with any situation.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Posy said, but she couldn’t help wondering where Karen had been so unexpectedly and whether it had been anything to do with the appearance of angry naked man… Lachlan – that was it. She hoped it wasn’t anything to do with the fact that he’d seen her staying here. More to the point, she hoped she wasn’t going to keep running into him, because if she lived to be a hundred years old the memory of their first ever meeting was never going to be anything other than utterly mortifying.

  * * *

  Dinner was pork cutlet with roasted seasonal vegetables and was every bit as good as the one they’d enjoyed during their first visit to Sunnyfields. Carmel said she had a mind to go into the kitchen and give Ray a round of applause, but Karen just laughed and said that would be enough to send her painfully shy husband running for Cheddar Caves, never to return to polite society. So Carmel resisted the urge to visit the kitchens and, instead, she and Posy went back into the bar for a nightcap to take out into the garden where they could make the most of a sun that was setting gloriously over the distant hills.

  Also on the terrace, seated at neighbouring tables, were an elderly couple who sounded American and two middle-aged women who had accents from the north of England. Posy and Carmel exchanged polite small talk on the way through with both couples about the lovely grounds, delicious meal and perfect sunset, and then they took their seats and their conversations became private again.

  ‘I love it here,’ Carmel said, eyes on the glowing horizon.

  ‘Me too,’ Posy said. ‘It feels like a home I never knew I had feelings for until I knew it existed. Not that I don’t love my home with you…’ she added quickly.

  ‘I know,’ Carmel said in a soothing voice that told Posy she understood. ‘But it is so lovely; if I was rich I’d be here all the time, every spare moment.’

  ‘It’s a shame we’re not then. I bet you could get a fantastic second home here.’

  ‘It’s nice to dream, though, isn’t it?’

  Karen came out onto the patio and bid her guests good evening. She was like a queen, moving amongst her people to grace them with her presence. It was obvious to anyone that the socialising at Sunnyfields was more important to Karen than the income she got from it. Of course, without the income she wouldn’t be able to survive, but Posy guessed she wouldn’t last long without the social contact either. She loved to chat and she loved getting to know new people, and although Posy herself loved those things too, Karen was definitely more successful at it.

  After exchanging pleasantries with the people at the other tables she came to Posy and Carmel.

  ‘I told Ray how much you enjoyed dinner,’ she said. ‘I think you made his night.’

  ‘Oh, we did,’ Carmel said. ‘I’m absolutely stuffed now because I couldn’t stop eating even when I was full.’

  ‘It’s a good job we don’t live here,’ Posy agreed. ‘I’d be like a whale after a few months.’

  ‘We do eat well,’ Karen said. ‘Believe it or not I was a size eight when we first moved here. I can assure you I’m much bigger than that now. Ray didn’t have as much time to cook when we were in London as he does now, and it shows!’

  ‘Not much,’ Posy said, but then wondered whether she’d actually managed to insult her host with that well-meaning but clunky platitude. She immediately decided not to elaborate for fear of making it worse, though Karen didn’t seem bothered by the assertion that it had been noted she was bigger than a size eight.

  ‘I must apologise for earlier, by the way,’ Karen said. ‘I know I offered to meet you in the bar before dinner but something came up and I’m afraid it couldn’t wait.’

  ‘Oh, the grumpy-looking neighbour?’ Carmel said airily. ‘We saw him earlier today as we were driving to Oleander House and he didn’t look any happier on that occasion either.’

  ‘Lachlan. Hmm, he did say something about trespassers on his land again today,’ Karen said with a wry smile as Posy’s face began to heat up in the way it did every time she thought of him. ‘He seems quite put out about it – kept going on and on.’

  Posy hoped that Karen wasn’t going to bring the whole incident up again – even worse go into whatever details Lachlan had given her about it. Carmel knew the story by now, of course, and thankfully had enough tact to realise that Posy probably didn’t want to go over it in front of Karen, no matter how tempting it might be to tease her.

  ‘He owns the vineyard,’ Karen said instead. ‘I bet you saw it as you were driving here – it’s quite hard to miss.’

  ‘We did,’ Carmel said. She gave an impish smile and Posy knew exactly what she was thinking. If she dared air it, Posy was going to have serious words with her later. ‘He seems to have a reputation that precedes him. Is he always that charismatic and charming?’

  Karen laughed. ‘Absolutely! He’s one of your Mr Rochester, tortured-soul types.’ She put on a mock posh voice that made her sound like a film character from a gothic story. ‘Very handsome but a haughtiness that hides a terrible secret that tears him apart.’

  Carmel leaned forward eagerly. ‘Is he now? Do tell!’

  ‘Oh, I don’t really know much about it,’ Karen said, with an expression that suggested she did know something about it but had now decided that she might have given too much away and it wasn’t her business to tell. ‘Nobody does. He’s very secretive and quite aloof. I mean, perfectly courteous and respectful, but he doesn’t socialise and only says anything to anyone if he really needs to. Mostly complaining about something.’

  ‘Sandra told me he doesn’t have any family at the vineyard with him,’ Carmel said.

  ‘That’s right. Pavla worked for him for a few weeks when she first arrived in England; she thinks he has some great tragedy in his past but even she doesn’t know what it is.’

  ‘Pavla who works here now?’ Posy asked. ‘She used to work for him?’

  ‘Yes. As you can probably tell, he’s not the easiest man to get along with and I think he upset her a few times. When he had to let her go because money was tight she came asking if I had a vacancy. I didn’t at the time, but the poor woman was so desperate that I found one for her. To tell the truth, that’s the best thing I ever did – she’s absolutely amazing and makes life ten times easier for me. Lives on site too, which means she’s always here when I need her. Not that I’d take advantage, of course, but it certainly makes me feel easier to know I’d have her help at a pin
ch.’

  ‘Pavla doesn’t live in Astercombe with family then?’ Posy asked.

  ‘No. I think she has rather a large family in Poland. She visits them when she can but I think she’s come to like living here now. I don’t think she’d go back in a hurry.’

  ‘I don’t blame her,’ Posy said. ‘It’s so beautiful here.’

  ‘It is,’ Karen agreed, her satisfied gaze sweeping the gardens. ‘I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else now.’

  ‘So the vineyard struggles?’ Carmel asked. ‘Sandra said Lachlan took it over fairly recently and money is tight… It’s not something you associate with England, is it? Growing grapes, I mean.’

  ‘He’s got a lot of catching up to do because it wasn’t going all that well for his predecessor. I’m not sure if it wasn’t a great-uncle of his or something. I heard someone say something like that in the village. I think the debts and the work got too much for him and Lachlan bought him out. I can see he’s making inroads turning the place around and he’s producing some very nice wine now. But whether he’s making a profit…’ Karen shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s early days; he’s only been there for a couple of years and it probably takes a good many harvests to turn things around – not that I’m any expert, of course.’

  ‘Giles says the vineyard is more like a second career type of business,’ Posy said.

  ‘I wouldn’t say that to Lachlan,’ Karen returned with a smile. ‘It’s very much his first career – though I can see why Giles might say that; I’m sure it looks very tinpot to him compared to the orchard. And I’m sure Giles would admit that the orchard is no business behemoth either.’

  ‘It’s at times like this I wish I was a writer,’ Carmel said. ‘I’m sure there’s a tale to be told in the history of that vineyard. Giles also said there was a vineyard there in the Middle Ages.’

  Karen nodded. ‘And even before that, I think… There’s such a long history of growing in this area there were probably lots more dotted around too.’

  ‘So Lachlan runs the vineyard absolutely alone?’ Posy asked. ‘Giles says so and he says it’s not so big as to be impossible, but I find it so hard to believe; it doesn’t seem feasible. He must have someone other than his staff, some kind of family on hand?’

  ‘There’s no family,’ Karen said. ‘Staff come and go; he can never afford to keep them. Even if he could, they’d have to have the patience of Job to work with him.’

  ‘Perhaps he has a mad wife in the attic,’ Carmel said, and Karen chuckled.

  ‘Imagine that. I’ll ask Pavla if she’s ever seen a white-clad woman shrieking along the corridors in the dead of night.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Posy said. ‘I think he’s a bit scary.’

  ‘Well, you would,’ Carmel fired back impishly. Karen raised questioning eyebrows at Posy.

  Time to come clean. It wasn’t like it was a big deal and Posy didn’t even know why she was making it one.

  ‘It was me he caught on his land,’ Posy said, heat rising to her face that had nothing to do with the evening sun. ‘I suppose you already guessed that, or he told you. I’m sorry if it caused problems for you.’

  ‘He might have mentioned it but I don’t know why you’re apologising to me.’ Karen wafted a dismissive hand. ‘And if the silly man won’t secure his property then he can expect people to wander onto it. I’ve told him, if he wants to keep things private round here he needs fifty-foot fences, searchlights and guard dogs, because tourists end up in all sorts of places where they oughtn’t through no fault of their own. You weren’t to know that field was out of bounds. Anyway, he can’t really complain with any conviction because what he doesn’t like to be reminded of is that a public right of way runs through that land. Just because people don’t tend to use it, doesn’t mean they’re not allowed.’

  ‘Really?’ Posy asked, going from embarrassed to now quite vindicated and not a little indignant too. How dare that man shout at her for being on his land when all along she’d been allowed to walk there? And what a stupid thing to do – swim butt-naked in a lake that was perfectly accessible to passers-by. Maybe he didn’t get many, but he ought to at least expect that one day he’d get caught out – assuming that he did that sort of thing on a regular basis. Judging by his physique he was no stranger to physical exercise; whether that was swimming or other things…

  Posy had to banish the graphic image of Lachlan’s very fine and very naked physique from her mind and focus as Karen was talking again. She’d missed the first part – it could have been anything – and that was remiss of her, but it would be downright rude to miss all of it.

  ‘Can I get you a refill too, Posy?’

  ‘Oh… right…’ Posy looked down at her glass. She couldn’t recall emptying it, but another ice-cold drink would be very welcome. For some reason she was melting. Perhaps she was coming down with some kind of fever. ‘The same would be lovely, thank you.’

  Karen got up and took their empties inside.

  ‘I love her,’ Carmel said as they watched her go. ‘It’s such a shame she lives so far from us because I’m sure we’d become best friends if she lived in London.’

  ‘Well, it doesn’t sound like that’s likely to change any time soon,’ Posy said.

  ‘Yes, more’s the pity.’

  ‘You’ll just have to visit Astercombe a lot more often,’ Posy added. ‘Which I’m sure will be a terrible hardship for you.’

  ‘Oh dear…’ Carmel sank back into her chair, closing her eyes as she turned her face to the setting sun. ‘I’m sure it would be, but I’d do my best to bear it.’

  Chapter Twelve

  No matter how old she got or how used she was to her dad being away from home, the excitement of him coming back for a few days never lessened for Posy. If absence made the heart grow fonder then Anthony Dashwood had run up one hell of a stockpile during the course of his professional life. Since discovering the truth about her maybe biological father, her love for the man who’d adopted her was greater and deeper than ever. Here was a man she’d always be able to rely on, a father who would always be there for her, would always care and always have her back, and she’d never been more grateful to know that.

  In readiness for his trip home Posy had made an effort to tidy around the house, while Carmel had been to have her hair cut and coloured. Now the curls that were normally threaded with the odd (pretty, Posy thought) grey strand were instead a rich chocolate brown, and she was wearing the long mint-green floral dress she’d picked up that week in the sales that showed off the green of her eyes. Even though she’d looked in the mirror after all that effort and declared she was mutton pretending to be lamb and no amount of titivating would make her young again, Posy had told her she looked beautiful. She really meant it too.

  Anthony arrived precisely one week on from Posy and Carmel’s second trip to Astercombe, fully prepared to dip into the supply of fondness he’d built up and spend some quality time with his wife and daughter. He’d barely walked through the door when Posy flung her arms around his neck.

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘Steady on!’ He laughed as he gave her a whiskery kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m getting to be an old man now; you’ll knock me over!’

  ‘You’ll never be old to me,’ Posy said, though even as she did she detected a few more lines since she’d last seen him in the flesh, another outcrop of grey hair.

  ‘Me neither,’ Carmel said, stepping forward to give him a rather more passionate kiss. ‘It’s good to see you, Anthony.’

  ‘Good to see you too,’ he said. ‘Even better to hold you…’

  ‘Ahem…!’ Posy squeaked, but she was smiling indulgently at the both of them. ‘Maybe you’d like to keep that for later – difficult as I realise it might be.’

  Anthony grinned and Posy grinned back, and for a split second a casual observer might have thought they were blood related, so similar did they look.

  ‘I’ve booked a table for seven at the Italian,’ Carmel s
aid to her husband as he took off his jacket and hung it on the hook by the front door. Posy often felt that row of hooks looked somehow incomplete unless her dad’s coat was hanging up alongside those of her and her mum. To see it there now filled her with a deep and happy contentment.

  He glanced at his watch. ‘Sounds perfect; it’ll give me time to get cleaned up and have a quick snooze.’

  ‘You will not snooze when I haven’t seen you for two months!’ Carmel admonished, and he laughed.

  ‘But I’ve travelled from Lincolnshire!’

  ‘I don’t care. Sleep later – that’s what night-time is for. Right now we demand your company.’

  ‘Now you’ve reminded me why it is I spend so much time away from home,’ he grumbled with a pretend sulk. ‘You’re so bossy.’

  Carmel only laughed.

  ‘Come through to the kitchen and I’ll fix you a drink and a snack to tide you over until dinner.’

  * * *

  Anthony’s favourite Italian restaurant wasn’t his favourite because it was swanky or because it was trendy or even because the food was the best. It was his favourite merely because the owner, Enzo, had been at school with him and had once intervened in a fight over a punctured bicycle tyre that would have ended with Anthony getting a good beating from an older boy. Anthony had never forgotten it and they’d remained friends ever since.

  They also supported the same football team, and, as far as Anthony was concerned, if ever there was a reason to be friends with someone, if not for the tyre incident, that was it. Especially if that team lost more games than they won, which had been the case pretty much every season for the past fifty years. If Anthony went out for dinner with Carmel on his visits home, it was Enzo’s place he’d want to go to more often than not.