A Tangled Summer

by Caroline Kington

  ‘No.’ Simon hesitated. He hadn’t decided whether he would tell Alison about the conversation concerning the Tuckers. ‘I agree with you.’

  ‘What, that they’re stuck up, conniving creeps?’

  ‘Definitely that; worse, if anything.’

  He then embarked on a graphic and witty demolition of the other guests, their hosts, and the evening’s conversation. ‘So there you have it: the husband and wife team ready to kill each other over the ethical behaviour of the local rag; the hag in black helping herself, less and less surreptitiously, to Hugh’s very expensive wine, under his outraged nose, till she finished the lot, and completely ignoring the interior designer who was desperately trying to engage her in a discussion about the Victorian use of colour; Veronica-call-me-Vee furious with her husband because he wouldn’t open any more wine to pour down the hag’s insatiable throat; and the Olympic champion summoning up the evening for all of us by letting out a loud snore over coffee and brandy.’

  Alison convulsed with laughter. ‘Wicked! So you’re not aiming to go visiting the Lesters again?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Simon said casually, ‘I’m playing tennis with Veronica-call-me-Vee tomorrow.’

  Alison gaped at him.

  ‘There’s a reason, and I’m going to take a chance and tell you. But for the moment, Alison, I think it’d better be just between the both of us. No sense, at this stage, in upsetting your mother or Stephen.’

  ‘What the hell has your…your friendship with the puky Lesters got to do with them? Or me? I’ve no claims over you. Do what you like…’

  ‘I do, and I like you, and your family, so don’t get spiky with me. Listen, Alison, describing your run of bad luck just now, you said “someone told them” both about the dairy and about the Merfields…and the bank suddenly getting heavy – doesn’t that all seem a bit coincidental?’

  Alison stared, ‘What do you mean?’

  So Simon told her about Veronica and Hugh’s plans for Marsh Farm.

  ‘The bastards!’ Alison shrieked, slamming her glass on the table and spraying the white linen cloth with splashes of red wine. ‘The conniving bastards!’

  Other diners turned to stare and a waiter hurried forward. ‘Is everything all right sir? Miss?’

  ‘Fine, thank you. My niece has just had a bit of a shock. Sorry about the mess.’

  ‘No problem, sir.’ He removed Alison’s abandoned prawns, cutlery and glasses and deftly replaced their linen. Alison looked on, simmering with fury. When they were finally alone, she hissed, ‘I don’t believe it – you sat and listened to all that crap and didn’t say anything? And now you’re gonna play tennis with the arch bitch? They’re gonna destroy us, Simon, and you’re gonna play ball games? What sort of friendship is that? If we weren’t in the middle of the soddin’ country an’ I’ve no idea where we are, I’d leave, right now!’

  ‘Alison, listen to me, listen! If I’d’ve jumped up and said, “leave the Tuckers alone, they’re decent people, trying to earn an honest crust, unlike you shitheads”, where would that have got me…you…us? I’m on your side, see. By my keeping quiet, they spilled the beans in front of me. Dearest Ali – I’ve met people like them before; they know what they want and they’ve the money and influence to get it…’

  ‘And they want Marsh Farm – well they won’t soddin’ get it!’

  ‘How are you going to stop them? If the dairy is closed, Stephen loses the Merfield meadows and the bank forecloses because you can’t meet their repayments?’

  ‘Gran would intervene, she wouldn’t let the Lesters take us over…’ Even as she said it, Alison could hear her grandmother’s voice, ‘not a penny more…no point in throwing good money after bad…’

  ‘Would she, could she? Does she have that sort of capital?’

  Alison stared at him, appalled. ‘I don’t know, Simon, I don’t know. I know she owns at least one property in Bath – she might own more, but how much capital she has, and whether she’d be prepared to sell, to save Marsh farm, I just don’t know… What am I gonna do?… I can’t just let this happen…’

  ‘No, we can’t. The thing is, Alison, by befriending the ghastly duo, I’m more likely to learn what they’re up to than by declaring myself a friend of the enemy. Undoubtedly, they are responsible for the Merfields getting cold feet, and for the tip-off to the dairy inspector. And I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find they’d nobbled someone at the bank…’

  ‘But banks are meant to be confidential, aren’t they? Surely that would be…well…’

  ‘Bad practice? Yep, and I’m sure if we could prove that had happened, we could make the situation very embarrassing for a certain bank employee…’

  ‘But how would you find that out?’

  For a moment, Simon thought of the momentary flicker of Veronica’s tongue in his ear when she kissed him goodnight, ‘I’ll find a way. Everyone has their Achilles heel.’

  ‘Their what?’

  ‘What do they teach you at school, these days?’ he mocked. ‘Achilles heel – weak point. Haven’t you seen the film, Troy?’

  ‘No, Uncle Simon,’ she said, somewhat maliciously, as the waiter placed their plates in front of them. ‘So what’s their heel?’

  ‘Not what, but who. The features writer from Country Homes and Gardens.’

  ‘That awful lady who was at the dinner party? Harriet?’

  ‘Harriet Flood. They are desperate for her to write about the development of their stud – brilliant publicity, after all. But it was clear that if they don’t get Marsh Farm, the stud won’t happen, and no stud, no story – Harriet’s not interested in doing a feature on the house and stables as they are. It’s my guess she didn’t altogether like our two, and it wouldn’t take too much ingenuity to persuade her to drop the story. I’ve an idea about how it might be done, too, but I won’t say anything more at this stage, in case it doesn’t happen.’

  Alison laughed. ‘Wicked! Serve them right. If you pull that off, Simon, I wouldn’t know how to repay you…’

  ‘Oh, I’ll think of something,’ he replied lightly. ‘But Alison, in the meantime, not a word to anyone, except…yes, I think it’s time to meet Elsie.’

  ‘Gran – why?’

  ‘From what you’ve said, she plays her cards close to her chest. I think we should get her on side, if only to find out how far she is prepared to let things go. From what you say, Marsh Farm means a lot to her. It’s important she knows that the greatest threat to its survival is not the bachelor state of her grandsons…’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Alison, thinking about how her gran might get on with Simon. ‘It’s not going be that easy. If she takes against you, or gets the wrong idea about you, it’d make life very difficult…’

  ‘What’s her Achilles heel?’

  ‘That’s not difficult: Mum,’ replied Alison. ‘And cake. Wow!’ She had taken a good look at the food in front of her. For someone who had been reared on Jenny’s cooking and ‘making do,’ she couldn’t believe her eyes. ‘Is this lamb?’

  14

  Morning, Stephen. How are things? Could do with a drop of rain, no doubt?’

  Stephen’s stomach had turned to water at the sight of Mr Curry’s vehicle. He knew that once Defra had decided to do an inspection, it would happen quite quickly – but not this quickly. He had just finished cleaning the dairy and was going in for a late breakfast when he had heard the car. He knew Mr Curry of old, but not the tall thin youth, with thick spectacles and pale spotty skin, who also climbed out, carrying a file and clipboard.

  ‘Oh, hello Mr Curry.’ Stephen tried to sound as if the bottom had not just dropped out of the day. ‘Yes, can’t believe this weather. We’re just waiting for it to break. I got your letter, yesterday mornin’.’

  ‘Yes, sorry to be so quick off the mark, but better not to keep you in suspense, eh? This is my colleague,
Richard Tyrer. He’s a student. You’ve no objection to him assisting me?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Stephen didn’t much like the look of Richard Tyrer. He had the look of a ferret about to kill a rabbit, and Stephen suspected that he, Stephen, was the rabbit in the ferret’s sights. Mr Curry, on the other hand, was a nice bloke, in Stephen’s opinion. Firm, but fair and to the point.

  ‘You’ll be off to have your breakfast, no doubt,’ Mr Curry said, looking at his watch. ‘Why don’t you do that? I know my way round, after all. Then you can come and join us for a chat.’

  But Stephen had lost his appetite. ‘No. It’s all right. I’ll come with you. I’ll just let Mum know.’

  Mr Curry and his companion spent about an hour checking around the dairy. Stephen looked on, hardly breathing, as they checked surfaces, tested the equipment, turning things on and off, testing the controls, the temperature of the cooling system, the general cleanliness of everything, making notes the whole time. When they tested the water heater and the temperature of the water, he had to leave and rush to the lavatory.

  Finally, they finished.

  ‘Well Stephen,’ Mr Curry was cheerful. ‘You keep your dairy spotless. Normally we could give you a clean bill of health…’

  Feeling slightly sick, Stephen said nothing and waited.

  ‘Thing is, old chap, after we received this call – nasty things, anonymous phone calls. Nine times out of ten, they are malicious and time-wasting, but we would be failing in our duty if we took no notice of them. So we checked up with your buyer and I understand they’ve rejected one batch and issued you with a warning. Seems the bacteria level has been creeping up. Now that would suggest to me, seeing as you’re a careful dairyman and everything seems shipshape, that you’ve got a problem with your cleaning system. Most likely in the temperature of the water, although it seemed fine when we tested it today…’

  Stephen felt wretched. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled. ‘I think you might be right. But it seems to be intermittent, so it’s difficult to correct. I am keeping a close eye on it, and…’

  ‘But I think you’re going to have to do more than that. I think you need to either replace it, or bring in a specialist to identify and cure the problem for you.’

  The implications of what Mr Curry was saying filled Stephen with the deepest gloom. This was as bad as he had feared, and he could see no way out. He was convinced there was a look of pleasure in the student’s eyes.

  ‘I’m not going to shut the dairy down, but I am going to issue you with an Improvement Notice. Now you know what that means?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Stephen, listlessly. ‘You give me a time limit to do whatever it is that needs to be done and if I don’t do it, then the dairy is closed down until it’s fixed, or we go out of business.’

  * * *

  In the early afternoon, Charlie turned the tractor into the yard, jumped off and hurried into the barn.

  ‘Do this, do that, bloody hell, I’m only human!’ he muttered, starting to free the trailer he needed from under a pile of accumulated debris. He was tired out. Since the start of the week he had been trying to finish the harvest with Lenny, and to meet the increasing demands of ‘Dark Glasses’ and his cohorts in the fields. ‘They’re certainly getting their money’s worth. I shall be glad when they bugger off and leave us in peace. Two and a half more days, and that’ll be it. I can’t wait.’ The thought of all that lovely money mollified him, though, as did the four tickets nestling in his pocket which Dark Glasses had given him that morning.

  ‘Two for Lenny and two for me – that should stop Paula bellyaching about the late hours Lenny’s been keeping,’ he thought. ‘If only I can get to the Grapes before closing time, and give a ticket to Beth. Can’t see her saying no, sideburns or no sideburns, and then, Charlie-me-old-fruit, you should be quids in there!’ He should try and go tonight, he thought. It was now Thursday, and he knew, from experience, that girls liked to plan their Saturdays in advance; she might even arrange time off from the pub, although, since it was an all-nighter, that didn’t matter so much…

  He didn’t hear Alison come into the barn. He’d been trying to avoid his family as much as possible – it seemed easier that way – so he was not pleased to turn round and see her standing there, watching him; the sort of expression on her face which experience had taught him meant trouble.

  ‘Oh hi, Ali,’ he tried to sound unconcerned. ‘Can’t stop, sorry, I’m busy…’

  ‘With what?’ She was cool. ‘The harvest or the Event?’

  Heart sinking, Charlie tried to bluster. ‘The harvest, of course. Event? What event? What are you talking about? Ha ha ha…me? Ali, what are you thinkin’ of? When would I have time to go to an event, whatever it is?’

  Unnoticed by either of them, Stephen had entered the gloom of the barn.

  ‘Not going to an event, Charlie; helping to set one up. Or, let me be a bit more specific – hiring out our fields to the guys that are running the event this weekend…’

  ‘What are you talking about? What event? If I find anyone has been squatting on our land…’

  ‘Don’t be daft, Charlie. This is a pro set-up. Hannah showed me her ticket this morning; the location map is on the back. How much dosh are you making, huh? Have you discussed this with Stephen?’

  ‘No, he bloody hasn’t,’ came a growl from the shadows, ‘and considerin’ the mess we’re in, and the fact that we’re meant to be partners, you’d think he would’ve. Can you think of any reason, Charlie, why I shouldn’t give you a good thumping?’

  Both Alison and Charlie were shocked at this. Stephen, to their knowledge, hating violence of any sort, had never threatened anyone in his life, let alone Charlie.

  He stood there, staring at Charlie, looking strangely white and drawn, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  Charlie had never before seen Stephen so upset and angry with him. And with good reason, he thought; he should have told Stephen as soon as the deal was proposed and not tried to cut him out. Squirming internally, he turned on the charm, smiled ruefully at Stephen, ruffled his hair in an abashed way and attempted to mollify him. ‘Listen, mate, I was gonna tell you, honest. We had to keep it all deadly hush-hush, or the deal was off. The bloke made us swear…and then I thought, better you didn’t know till it was all over, ’cos you’d only fuss , and supposing Mum, or worse, Gran found out and put a stop to it…’

  The fury in Stephen’s face did not abate and Charlie, realising that he had taken his brother for granted once too often, and sensing that, as a consequence, their relationship was undergoing a seismic shift, that Stephen was now a force to be reckoned with, and feeling slightly panicky as a consequence, started to plead. ‘The money’s gonna save us, Stevie – just wait till we see the sick look on Gordon White’s face when I deposit three K next month. He didn’t think we could do it, and now we can…’

  ‘Three thousand?’ Stephen’s voice shook.

  ‘Yep. Perfect timing, ain’t it?’

  ‘Is that all?’ Alison’s voice was sharp. ‘How much are you getting, Charlie?’

  Charlie was not quite ready to give up on his potential profit, but shifted from one foot to the other, uneasily. ‘Well…a bit over three…enough for me and Lenny to put our bike back in the running…’

  ‘Enough to buy a new hot-water unit for the dairy?’

  ‘What!’

  Alison pressed on. ‘The thing is, Charlie, that while you’ve been busy sucking up to the big boys, things’ve been happening on the farm you’ve just not been around to notice. If Stephen doesn’t replace that unit, like now, the dairy will be closed down…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘And what’s more, due to your drunken tricks, the Merfields are thinking of not renewing our lease…’

  ‘The old witches, they can’t do that…’

  ‘Oh yes they can – so what are they
going to make of the news that you are holding a rave? They’re going to love that, aren’t they? Let alone Mum and Gran. They would’ve found out – how are you gonna explain things to them?’

  Charlie started to perspire. ‘It’s not a rave, Ali. It’s nothing like that… I’d find some way of telling them. The bottom line is that we need the money, Ali, Steve, that’s the way I see it…’

  And Stephen, having spent the last few miserable few hours contemplating the ruin of his business, along with the death of all his hopes of Nicola, now felt almost faint with relief at such an unexpected rescue. Without hesitation, he forgave Charlie, and turning to Alison, came to his brother’s defence.

  ‘It’s a heck of a lot of money, Ali, just think – if we can get the bank off our neck and I can sort out the dairy – well, just think how great that would be. I’m sure Gran and Mum would see the sense in that.’ He swallowed and straightened up, seeming, in that moment, to grow taller and older. ‘I’ve got to see Mrs Merfield next week, I’ll think of something to tell her… If we was able to pay the lease in advance…’

  ‘Good thinking, Batman.’ Alison turned again to Charlie. ‘So just how much money are we making, Charlie?’

  For all his faults, Charlie was not dishonest, and he crumbled, ‘Five K.’

  Stephen whistled.

  ‘Three for the field they’re using for the event, and two for the one next to it.’ Charlie was alarmed, sensing the money slipping through his fingers. ‘But don’t forget, Lenny and I have been slogging our guts out for this the whole…’

  ‘So you’ll make some money.’ Alison would not let him see how impressed she was, and continued crisply, ‘But you know the farm must come first, Charlie. This is a farm enterprise, so you cover our outstanding debts, as far as you can; pay Lenny, give me my allowance, then divvy what’s left with Stephen.’

  ‘Divvy…with Stephen? I’ll end up with virtually nothing!’

  ‘’S only right – I’m your partner!’ The end of his immediate problems in sight, Stephen stood tall, breathed out and with an authority he’d never had before, addressed his brother. ‘One thing I’d like to know, Charlie – when did you strike this little deal? Was it before our farm meeting or after? Did you know, when you went to the bank that we were going to get all this money?’