‘I see there are people back in Blackstock Farm again,’ said Gabriel.
Blackstock Farm had lain empty for some months, since Old Joe (the farmer who’d owned it) had died at the grand old age of ninety. Rumours abounded in the village about what would happen to the land; Old Joe having no family that anyone could remember.
‘What do you think they’re doing?’ said Marianne.
‘No idea,’ said Gabriel. ‘With any luck it’s going to go for auction and we’ll find ourselves a new neighbour.’
‘With any luck,’ said Marianne. But as she looked back down the field, she saw several men, unsuitably dressed in office garb and smart shoes, and wondered. They were taking photographs, and making notes, and seemed very animated. She remembered her feeling of foreboding from a few months earlier. She had a nasty feeling they hadn’t heard the last of Old Joe’s farm.
How’s your day been? :-)
Pippa looked at Richard’s text and sighed. How to explain her day so far? After coffee with the girls (the highlight), she’d got home to discover another letter from Dan’s solicitor, gently reminding her she hadn’t responded to the first. She decided Richard didn’t need to know about that.
Fine. Yours? she responded, and instantly a text pinged back.
Boring. Missing you xxx
Oh. Richard often added little comments like that to his texts. She wished he wouldn’t. It made her feel panicky, as if he were forcing an intimacy she wasn’t quite ready for.
Me too x Pippa texted, feeling it was required. The truth was she still didn’t know how she felt where Richard was concerned, and felt guilty about leading him on. But it was nice to have someone kind and gentle who seemed to care for her. Perhaps she should just accept that for now. She felt she was going round in circles, and could never get her head straight about what was the best thing to do.
Pippa sighed. She really ought to deal with this letter; every time she didn’t, it cost Dan (and them) money. She should get on with it. And she would. Later. For now she needed to look through the accounts. The tax year was nearly up and she’d been neglecting them, much to the irritation of their accountant, John, who was practically having a nervous breakdown. The trouble was, everything was in such a mess.
Since Dan’s accident they’d had to scale back the workload, he simply couldn’t do as much as he had done, and even with help from both their dads and the boys at the weekend, it wasn’t enough. In order to manage they’d cut back on the amount of cattle they were rearing, which of course ate into profits. At one stage they’d been able to afford extra help, but after the year they’d just had, coupled with the abysmally low price of milk and the high price of animal feed, hiring any help this year was out of the question. It was an ever increasing downward spiral of financial misery, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do about it. The trouble was, that for both her and Dan, the farm was a way of life, and not something either of them could give up easily. Hence Dan’s still hanging around to help run it with her, even though he’d moved out.
Pippa felt a familiar feeling of sickness in the pit of her stomach as she looked through the figures again, willing them to be better. She had started having sleepless nights about money, and for the first time since she and Dan had taken over the farm from her parents fifteen years earlier, she was really worried that they might not make a go of things. They’d weathered storms before, but this, this felt different. And she was more and more overwhelmed by the bills which kept coming. She knew she needed to face up to it, but at the moment it all felt too much.
And of course, now that Dan wanted a divorce, they’d have to look at what to do about the farm properly. Which was complicated, as in order to make improvements over the years, they’d borrowed from Pippa’s parents who were silent partners in the business. The way it was going there’d be precious little of the business left, and their investment would be up the swannee. It wouldn’t matter at all if she and Dan were still together, but now they were apart and going to be apart permanently, Pippa just couldn’t see how she was going to be able to buy Dan out, which was her preferred option, and what to do about the farm was hanging over her like a dark black cloud.
There was a ring on the doorbell. Pippa frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone – the kids were at school, Richard was working in Birmingham at the marketing firm where he was financial director, and Dan was in the fields. She put her papers away and got up to answer the door. A smartly dressed young man in a pinstripe suit was standing on the doorstep – Jehovah’s Witness she thought immediately. He flashed a white toothed grin at her, held up a business card and said, ‘Laurence Fairburne, LK Holdings Ltd. We’re acquiring property in the area and wondered if you’d be interested in selling up?’
Chapter Three
‘I hope you sent him away with a flea in his ear,’ said Dan, when he came to pick the children up at the weekend. He stood, framed in the doorway, so tall, strong and dependable. It was still hard to believe that things had changed so catastrophically.
It had taken a while for Pippa to pluck up the courage to tell him about her unwanted visitor. The truth was that, even with all of the ongoing counselling, Dan could still be somewhat unpredictable since his accident, and she never knew what was going to spark off a rage in him, which some idiot from a posh company wanting to buy them out was likely to. Dan’s black moods were the main – the only – reason they’d split up; Pippa had been prepared to live with them but Dan hadn’t.
‘It’s the look in your eyes, that does it,’ he’d said to her once, after the heartbreaking occasion when he’d frightened the boys so much, they’d run away from him. Pippa had tried not to show her horror at his behaviour, but it was nigh on impossible. So she’d tried to preserve passive neutrality ever since. But it wasn’t easy.
‘Of course I did, but I thought you should know,’ Pippa said, returning to the matter in hand. ‘It’s not just that either. Remember those people we saw at Blackstock Farm before Christmas? I’m wondering if they’ve got anything to do with this.’
Dan whistled.
‘You think LK Holdings is looking at buying up all the land round here?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Pippa, ‘but I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t think that guy is going to take no for an answer.’
Her gut instinct at Christmas hadn’t reassured her, and it wasn’t reassuring her now. She had the uneasy feeling they were under siege, and she wasn’t sure she had the strength to withstand the onslaught alone.
‘They can’t do anything unless we sell,’ Dan pointed out, ‘which we’re not obliged to do.’
‘I don’t think it’s quite as straightforward as that,’ said Pippa. ‘We may not have a choice.’
‘Oh?’ Dan looked at her quizzically.
Pippa paused, her heart was racing and she felt slightly sick. It was now or never; time to face up to the inevitable. ‘The thing is, if we’re going to go through with the divorce, it’s time we started to talk about the future of the farm.’
‘I’ll buy you out,’ said Dan. ‘You keep the farmhouse, and I’ll buy the business.’
‘I’m not sure you can,’ said Pippa, the anxious gnawing feeling in her stomach returning. ‘I’ve been looking through the accounts, and to put it bluntly, the business is a mess. We hardly made any money last year, and …’
Her voice trailed off. She so longed for him to turn that dazzling smile of his on her, and say, ‘No worries, Mrs Micawber, something will turn up,’ as he would have done in the past. But that wasn’t going to happen now, or ever again. That was in the past, and the past was gone, however much she wished it hadn’t. This was their reality now.
‘And maybe selling up would be a good idea?’ Dan looked at her incredulously. ‘Pippa, I can’t believe you of all people would say that. This farm is a family farm, our family farm. What about the boys?’
What about the boys? she felt like saying, maybe they don’t need this millstone around their ne
cks? But she kept quiet. Dan was right. This farm was where she’d grown up; it was her heritage and she loved it with every fibre of her being. Pippa had always regarded herself and Dan as stewards, tending the land to pass it onto the next generation. She’d never imagined doing anything else, and she knew how much the children loved it too. Particularly Nathan who was already talking about studying agriculture. How had it come to this? She shouldn’t even be contemplating taking his or George’s future away as a possibility.
‘What does Richard think?’ Dan said, taking her by surprise.
‘I haven’t talked to him about it,’ said Pippa. The thought hadn’t even occurred to her. ‘Not till I’d discussed it with you. It’s none of his business.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Dan’s voice sounded bitter, which was confusing. He’d seemed all for Richard and Pippa as a couple at Christmas. Pippa’s heart leapt a little as she allowed herself to entertain a ridiculous smidgeon of hope. Maybe Dan would finally break through his barriers and tell her he’d made a mistake. She looked at him expectantly, but suddenly he changed tack. ‘Look, Pippa, I don’t want to sell, and you don’t want to sell, do you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Then, we won’t,’ said Dan. ‘Come on, we can work things out. Chin up. Anything is possible, if you put your mind to it.’
And there, for a moment, was the old Dan, her Dan. It was all Pippa could do not to weep.
They say you should never put your daughter on the stage … but the same could apply to getting your baby in front of a camera. As a way to earn money for childcare, it seemed like a no brainer to take my daughter to the Tot’s Modelling Agency and see if she could start paying her way. After all, every baby is photogenic, and cute and adorable, aren’t they? …
Wrong!
For starters do you know how hard it is to get a baby to smile when she doesn’t want to? Despite the best efforts of the photographer who was waving cuddly toys and pulling faces like they were going out of fashion, my bouncing baby just wouldn’t perform … even with me crouched behind her stuffing treats in her mouth in between takes. Turns out not every baby is loved by the camera after all …
Cat smiled as she read Mel’s latest piece for a mother and baby mag. Mel had captured perfectly the absurdity of trying to take photos of a small baby. She was proud of her daughter for managing to get a regular gig to earn her some money, while she carried on with her studies. They were going to need all the help they could get now she’d lost the TV show, particularly when Mel went to university next year. Cat and Noel both wanted to support their daughter, but Cat wanted her to take responsibility for Lou Lou too. It was a delicate balancing act.
‘That’s brilliant, Mel,’ she said. ‘You’re a natural. And it was a great idea to get Lou Lou some modelling work.’
Despite her wry take on it, the modelling day had actually gone well, and Lou Lou had already had several further sessions, which meant Mel could save something for her future.
Mel blushed. ‘It does help having a famous journalist mum,’ she said.
‘Not that famous,’ sighed Cat, ‘I feel like I’m being put out on the scrap heap.’
Cat had pitched a few more cooking ideas to Anna, including a cookbook for young urbanites, but had been met with a stone wall so far. Anna had been far more candid than Cat would have liked, ‘At the moment your face doesn’t fit, darling,’ she’d said, ‘but I’m sure we’ll find something for you before too long.’
She hadn’t sounded very sure, and Cat was beginning to think she needed a radical rethink of her entire career.
‘Don’t be daft, Mum,’ said Mel, giving her a hug. ‘I think you’re an inspiration.’
Cat blinked back unexpected tears. It never ceased to amaze her how surprising her children could be sometimes. While she missed them being little, she loved the fact that they were growing into their own people.
‘You have to say that, you’re my daughter,’ she laughed. ‘Anyway, I’m proud of you too. This is great. You never know, you may even get another book out of it.’
‘That would be great,’ said Mel. ‘There’s so much good material here. I haven’t even got started on the Pushy Mums yet.’
Cat had witnessed the Pushy Mums herself, when she’d taken Lou Lou to a photoshoot for Mel. They were usually done up to the nines, plastered in fake tan and tottering in high heels, determined that their little darlings were going to succeed in the modelling world, where clearly many of them had not.
‘Brilliant,’ said Cat. ‘So long as it doesn’t interfere with your exams, though. Earning money is important, but your studies come first.’
Mel pulled a face. ‘I know.’
Cat sighed. ‘I wish I could do more to help. The timing of this bloody TV thing couldn’t be worse. If that was still going ahead, we’d have a bit more leeway, and could take some pressure off you.’
‘Oh Mum,’ said Mel, looking a bit teary herself, ‘you do so much for me already. If you didn’t help out as much, I couldn’t even think about going to university. And when you look after Lou Lou it stops you from working.’
‘Well just because life’s thrown you an unexpected curveball, Dad and I don’t want you to not have the best future possible. Besides, you know I love looking after Lou Lou.’ It was true – Cat did. It reminded her of having her own babies again, and she hadn’t realised how much she missed them being small. ‘The important thing is that your education doesn’t suffer. I’m happy to sacrifice anything for that.’
‘I don’t believe it!’ Gabe came haring in in a blistering mood, while Marianne was standing by the cooker dishing out the twins’ tea.
The twins, both sitting eagerly at the cosy kitchen table waiting for their food, were startled by their dad’s unexpectedly belligerent tone, burst into tears and stopped Gabriel in his tracks.
‘Oh damn,’ he said, looking stricken. ‘Don’t fret, Harry, Daddy was just being grumpy.’
He picked his son up and started to tickle him, while Marianne did the same to Daisy, and they were soon giggling away as if nothing had happened. Would that grown-ups could cheer up so quickly, Marianne thought. By the time they’d finished tea, the twins had long forgotten Gabriel’s bad mood, and they were happily dispatched to the lounge to watch In the Night Garden before bed. Time to turn her attention to her husband.
Marianne put the kettle on and said, ‘So go on, what’s the problem?’
‘You know the other day we saw those guys in Old Joe’s field?’ said Gabriel.
‘Yes?’ said Marianne, she’d been so busy since then, she’d half forgotten about it, ‘what of them?’
‘I’ve found out what they are doing,’ said Gabriel. ‘There are planning applications on every tree down the lane. They want to build a new hotel, leisure centre and golf course on the site. They want to go all the way to the bottom of Old Joe’s property and take in parts of Hope Christmas woods too. It’s insane.’
‘But they can’t!’ said Marianne. The woods was a favourite haunt of hers with the children as they were too little still to manage long walks to the top of the hill, particularly one lovely little area where a local artisan had carved statues out of fallen logs. ‘That will destroy the views from the hill, let alone the wildlife and the space for the sheep to roam. Hope Christmas will never be the same again.’
Hope Christmas was such a special place, Marianne had always felt. It had the most perfect High Street, complete with lovely little trinket shops, a great bookshop, black and white buildings and even a quaint old antiques market. There was a thriving market during the week, and it had a lovely friendly community. Too small for major hotels, there were plenty of b&bs in town, catering for walkers and families of all ages, the usual kind of visitor to the town. A massive complex like this would have huge repercussions for the area, not least in the fact that it would change the landscape which brought the walkers in the first place.
‘They can, and they will, apparently,’ said Gabriel. ‘I ra
n into Archie Speers, and he said that Joe’s farm has passed to a great-nephew who isn’t interested and is going to sell up and doesn’t care what happens to the land.’
‘But what about Archie’s land, doesn’t some of it intersect with Joe’s?’
‘Yup,’ said Gabriel, ‘and they want to buy that bit off Archie.’
‘I hope Archie said no,’ said Marianne, looking appalled. This was looking serious. If they wanted to stop this development the whole town was going to have to get on board.
‘I think Archie’s in a difficult position, to be honest,’ said Gabriel. ‘You know he’s managing that farm all on his own. He’s been talking about downsizing for some time. It’s going to affect him either way. He may as well make some money out of it, I guess.’
He stared gloomily out of the kitchen window. Marianne only had to look at him to know what he was thinking. Gabriel was a country boy through and through: Hope Christmas was bound up in the fabric of his soul. A development on this scale could destroy the place they loved forever.
‘And Dan said they’ve had people sniffing round there asking about buying their farm,’ Gabe continued. ‘I hadn’t twigged there might be a connection with the developers till today. If everyone sells up, we won’t stand a chance.’
‘Pippa and Dan won’t sell,’ said Marianne quickly. The thought of Pippa’s farm going was unthinkable.
‘They wouldn’t have in the past,’ said Gabriel, looking sad, ‘and according to Dan, they’re still not planning to, but he hinted that things are a bit tight financially. I have a terrible feeling everything will be different once the divorce goes through.’
Marianne felt a cold clutch of fear on her heart. She had always assumed they’d stay here forever. The farms down the lane seemed immutable and unchanging, along with the valley, woods and hills which she loved so much. She couldn’t bear the thought of all that beauty being destroyed and a massive hotel complex being erected instead.
Coming Home For Christmas Page 5