Uncle Arthur’s mouth fell open. I shook my head.
‘When he bought a bracelet with snake heads on it, enough was enough. So I dumped him and moved to Lovedale where I intend to marry a farmer and ride my horse all day long. Farmers don’t wear jewellery.’ She folded her arms and I caught her darting a glance at Uncle Arthur’s hands and neck. Unsurprisingly, he was not bejewelled.
‘Oh my God, oh my God, he’s coming.’ Lizzie tossed her hair over her right shoulder and then again over her left. ‘Act natural.’
I began to turn round but Lizzie shook her head frantically. ‘Don’t look,’ she hissed.
‘I’m off to join the lads,’ said Uncle Arthur, spotting a gap in the conversation.
‘Hi, Ross, what can I get you? Same again?’ purred Lizzie.
Ross nodded. He was tall and slim with sandy hair, long pale eyelashes and high cheekbones. He held out his glass to Lizzie: rough hands, dirt ingrained into scrubbed fingernails. No jewellery. Not beefy enough for my tastes, but he had a friendly face and Lizzie was clearly besotted.
‘Are you a farmer, Ross?’ I asked after introductions had been made. Lizzie simpered over the Windermere Pale Ale pump and batted her eyelashes at him.
‘Not yet, but that’s the plan.’ Ross flashed a shy smile at me. ‘I’m studying for a degree in agriculture at the moment. And then I’m hoping to invest in my own farm. I’m a mature student, before you ask, but I’ve had to take a year out after a family bereavement. I’m the only one left now …’
Lizzie arrived back with his pint and pressed a hand to her chest. ‘Poor lamb.’
Ross flushed and quickly dipped his face into his glass.
He was such a sweetie; I could see why Lizzie was smitten. And how awful to lose his parents so young.
‘I’m so sorry to hear that. You must have had a lot to deal with,’ I said softly, pretending not to notice his blushes.
He nodded. ‘Thanks. I’ve had to sort out my mum’s will and stuff. The university has kept my place open so I can start again in September to do my final year. Most of the house clearing and legal stuff is done now, though, so I’m spending far too much time in the pub these days.’
‘Lucky us,’ said Lizzie, tossing her hair again.
Ross cleared his throat. ‘I’ll be honest, my mates, this pub, that’s what’s got me through the last few months. But now I’m ready to do something. Get some practical farm experience.’
‘So …’ I glanced over my shoulder to where Uncle Arthur was sitting in the middle of a group of men, slapping his thigh appreciatively and guffawing at some joke or other. ‘You could say you’re at a loose end for a while?’
Ross nodded and slurped his ale. My brain was whirring like billy-o. It could work. It could be absolutely amazing. I pulled Eddy’s list out of my handbag and handed it to Ross. ‘Do you know how to do this lot?’
Ross put down his glass and scanned the list, frowning with concentration. Lizzie was darting me curious what’s-going-on looks and I tipped her a teeny wink.
‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ said Ross. ‘Although I might need a bit of guidance on some of it. Why?’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Arthur stagger to his feet. Offering guidance to a young would-be farmer was right up my uncle’s street. It would keep him occupied and out of mischief at the same time. There was just one potential sticking point …
I took a deep breath. If you don’t ask you don’t get, right? ‘What would you say to some unpaid work experience at Appleby Farm until you go back to uni?’
Ross opened his eyes wide, Lizzie squealed and clapped her hands, and Uncle Arthur stumbled up to the bar, squeezed himself in between me and Ross and burped. ‘Pardon me.’ He stared up at Ross, bleary-eyed. ‘Who’s this, then?’
‘I’m your new apprentice, sir,’ said Ross, extending a hand to Uncle Arthur. ‘If you’ll have me.’
Chapter 7
The following Monday was a bank holiday. Unfortunately cows don’t appreciate the rare opportunity for a day off so it was business as usual at Appleby Farm. It was also Ross’s first day. After a hearty breakfast of sausage sandwiches cooked by me (a bit black on the outside but nothing that a dollop of brown sauce couldn’t cover up) it was smiley faces all round as the farm’s vast staff assembled in Uncle Arthur’s tiny office to receive orders. I say ‘vast staff’ because everything is relative and with the addition of Ross, me and Lizzie (it was her day off and apparently she had nothing to do except make huge doe-eyes behind Ross’s back) to the workforce of one – i.e. Eddy – that was an increase of 300 per cent.
Auntie Sue had been so delighted about the news that Ross was joining the team that she forgot to be cross with her husband for drinking too much when I’d finally poured him back into the farmhouse after eleven o’clock on Friday night. And she was still smiling three days later.
At that moment Benny and Madge, as if wanting to be considered part of the team, trotted through the door. Benny immediately slalomed his body around everyone’s legs and Madge, who was licking her lips suspiciously, slunk under the desk to lie on Uncle Arthur’s feet.
‘It’s like old times, isn’t it, Arthur?’ Auntie Sue beamed from her position behind her husband’s chair with her arm around his shoulders. ‘With all these people in here.’ I felt a wave of love for them. Such a great team, the pair of them. They didn’t have much, but they had each other.
Like I had Charlie.
My face broke into a grin that I just couldn’t wipe off.
I’d spoken to him last night. And after he’d told me about him and Ollie having a great time at the annual Ivy Lane Easter egg hunt and I’d told him about the cow that had had trouble calving on Saturday but was OK now and we’d declared that we missed each other, something marvellous happened. At the very same moment, just after a tiny pause in our news, we both said those magical three words. The words that change a relationship from being a bit of fun into something special.
I love you.
And I did. I loved him and even though the Cumbrian landscape and the nose-achingly fresh air and the fickle weather made my heart sing with exquisite pleasure, I couldn’t wait – could not wait – to get home to my boy.
And in forty-eight hours I would do just that.
In the meantime, I had chores to do. I tuned back in to Uncle Arthur’s rundown of the day and tried to keep my contented sigh to myself.
‘Can you get on with fertilizing some of the grassland, seeing as we’ve had it dry for a day or two?’ he asked Eddy.
Eddy nodded. He was swivelling round in the ancient office chair opposite the desk and slurping at the third mug of tea I’d seen him drink since breakfast. Probably trying to wash down the carbon-coated sausages.
‘Want me to take the young-un out with me?’ he asked.
Young-un was Ross. Eddy had admitted that he was pleased to have extra help, although I did catch him muttering that he wasn’t going to play nursemaid to a wet-behind-the-ears student. But I took the fact that he was requesting the pleasure of Ross’s company on the tractor as a good sign.
‘Not till this afternoon,’ replied Uncle Arthur. He was pretending not to be enjoying himself, having a bigger team to organize. But he wasn’t fooling me. There was a spark back in his eyes and more energy in his movements. Having a young man about the place was better than any dose of medicine. ‘First I want him to check on the calves with me. How do you fancy learning how to worm a herd of cows, lad?’
‘Smashing.’ Ross nodded, folding his arms across his chest. I smothered a giggle. If that wasn’t proof of a serious intention to become a farmer, I didn’t know what was. ‘I’d love that. Tha—’ He closed his mouth just in time.
Ross hadn’t stopped thanking everyone this morning until Uncle Arthur had told him to ‘put a sock in it’. And he looked every inch the farmer in his navy overalls and boots.
Lizzie looped her arm through mine and mouthed ‘bless him’ at me. Another one who couldn�
��t wipe the glee from her face.
Ross could only stay until September when he was due back at university, so it wasn’t a long-term solution, but for now, it gave the farm some much-needed breathing space. And I felt a huge sense of relief knowing that when I went back to Kingsfield, Uncle Arthur wouldn’t be overdoing it all summer.
‘I’m off to tackle that veggie patch near the orchard,’ said Auntie Sue, pulling a pair of secateurs from her apron pocket. ‘I haven’t even cut my raspberry canes back yet. At this rate my home-grown raspberry-ripple ice cream won’t be home-grown, it’ll be via Sainsbury’s.’
‘And Lizzie and I are making an honesty box to put down on Lovedale Lane,’ I said, zipping up my jacket. Auntie Sue had more eggs than she could sell on, so I’d come up with the idea of turning an old henhouse into a road-side help-yourself shop. Plenty of cars came past the farm entrance and this would be a chance to make a bit of extra cash and sell our surplus produce.
‘Right, see you back at dinner.’ Uncle Arthur slapped his hands on the desk and we all dispersed.
Lizzie and I grunted and heaved as we wheeled the disused henhouse out of the shed and into the yard. It was tiny compared to the one Auntie Sue used now and worked like a big wheelbarrow with two large rusty wheels underneath, a wooden strut to help it stand upright and double doors at the front, which would open up to make our little shop.
‘Let’s set up it at the edge of the orchard,’ Lizzie suggested breathlessly, steering us along past the barn.
‘But here is so much closer to the tap,’ I panted. And the orchard was completely impractical to work in.
‘Come on,’ said Lizzie, putting her back into it with grim determination. ‘It’s got a lovely view and we get to smell the apple blossom while we work.’
At the edge of the orchard I flopped down on to the grass, exhausted. She was right; the white and pink apple blossom flowers had a lovely delicate scent. In front of us was Calf’s Close, the field where Uncle Arthur was currently weaving in and out of his herd with an attentive Ross at his side.
‘See,’ giggled Lizzie, collapsing beside me. ‘I told you the view was great.’
The first job was the worst: scraping off several years’ worth of chicken poo. For the next half an hour we distracted ourselves with a game of ‘would you rather …’ in which we tested each other’s preferences for random things. We found to our delight that we shared a love for Harry Potter and cinnamon on cappuccino but clashed over Brussels sprouts (I could eat them by the plateful).
‘Sorry,’ Lizzie declared finally. She held up a hand and made a choking noise. ‘But I’m not choosing between gherkins and pickled onions. Neither should be fed to humans.’ She screwed up her nose. ‘Nor animals, come to that.’
‘Ha!’ I dropped my disinfectant spray on the floor and threw my arms round her neck. ‘You passed my friend test, Lizzie, because that one was a red herring. I’m with you there one hundred per cent. Ooh, you’re buzzing.’
I stood back to let her retrieve her phone from her bra. ‘No pockets,’ she giggled, followed by a grimace, eye-roll and stab at the phone.
‘Victoria,’ she said, her face losing its customary warmth. ‘What do you want?’ This last uttered in a flat, un-Lizzie-like tone.
I raised my eyebrows but she just frowned, so I left her to it and wandered back into the yard to wash my hands. Odd that she’d got mobile phone reception in the yard. Must remember that. I was just contemplating popping into the kitchen to stick the kettle on, when Eddy arrived in the yard on the tractor, pulling the fertilizing unit behind it.
‘Dinner time already?’ I called as Eddy got closer.
‘No, your uncle’s radioed me over,’ Eddy shouted above the fut-fut-fut of the tractor engine. ‘He’s here, look.’
I turned to see Uncle Arthur and Ross, both of them with hands wedged in pockets, striding towards us.
‘Crofters Field was looking a bit churned up,’ said Eddy, jumping down off the tractor. ‘So I’ve moved the cows to Oak Field. That OK, Arthur?’
‘Ay.’ Uncle Arthur pushed up his cap and scratched his forehead. The stitches were starting to pull and it was driving him crazy. ‘Ground’s heavy up there after last week’s rain.’
‘What’s up, then?’ said Eddy. ‘I’ve only done half of one field.’
‘Come and take a look at this calf.’
‘Problem?’ I said, traipsing behind the men as we headed back to Calf’s Close.
‘One of the calves isn’t doing too well,’ said Uncle Arthur. ‘Her ears are back and judging by the mother’s full udders, she’s not feeding.’
‘I spotted it,’ added Ross proudly.
‘Well, that has ruined my day,’ Lizzie said with a scowl as she fell into step beside me. ‘Ruined it. Where we going, by the way?’
‘Calf’s Close to see a poorly cow,’ I said, linking my arm through hers. ‘What has ruined your day and who’s Victoria?’
‘My older sister. She’s only sodding-well moving back to The Lakes from Liverpool. I thought I’d got rid of her once she got a job on Liver FM. Honestly,’ Lizzie huffed, ‘she’s got a mean streak longer than Lake Windermere, that one. If she was here now, she’d try to steal you off me.’
I felt a rush of warmth for my lovely new friend and her unexpected insecurity. ‘She wouldn’t, would she?’
She widened her eyes. ‘Yep.’ And him, she mouthed, nodding at Ross. ‘Even if she didn’t fancy him herself, she’d flirt with him just to scupper my chances.’
‘Is this the one with a pony called Star?’
Lizzie’s face softened. ‘No, that’s Poppy. She’s only twelve. I love her to bits.’
I did a rough sum. Lizzie was twenty-five. Not quite as big an age gap as Julian and I but a completely different relationship by the sound of it. ‘Twelve! I bet your mum was shocked when she found out she was pregnant again.’ Mine certainly had been, by all accounts.
‘Hardly,’ said Lizzie, pulling an as-if face. ‘She idolizes that child. Calls her her precious miracle.’
Precious miracle.
I too was an unplanned baby who had turned up late in my mum’s life. How different would my life have been if my mother had cherished me like that? I wondered.
‘But your dad,’ I probed, determined to find a chink in their armour of perfect parenting, ‘I guess he’d thought the days of nappies and no sleep were well behind him?’
She puffed out her cheeks. ‘He didn’t mind. All my dad says when somebody points that out is that nine months before Poppy’s surprise arrival was “one bloody good weekend”. Parents.’ She tutted in disgust.
I thought her dad sounded fun. But perhaps other people’s families always sound more fun than your own.
‘Anyway,’ Lizzie sighed, ‘the point is that Victoria will be back in The Lakes in one month’s time to start a new job as a radio presenter on Radio Lakeland and she’ll try to muscle in on my life. Again.’
‘I won’t let her. Promise,’ I said, giving her arm a squeeze.
Lizzie and I followed them as far as the gate. Ross closed the gate behind them and as soon as the older men were out of earshot, he blinked furiously at Lizzie and turned crimson. ‘Don’t suppose you fancy going for a drink tonight, do you?’
In a flash she jumped up on to the bottom bar of the gate, grabbed Ross’s face and kissed him noisily on the lips.
‘Is that a yes, then?’ he gasped.
‘Yes!’ Lizzie squealed, making thirty Hereford cows and their calves leap into the air.
Day not entirely ruined then.
Almost before I knew it, my five days in Lovedale were up. It was weird, I thought, as I bumped my rucksack down the stairs on my last morning, I wanted to stay, but I was ready to leave, too. My stomach felt jittery and a lump kept rising in my throat. I felt as if I were homesick for both places at once: Kingsfield where Charlie and my job were, and the farm where I felt needed and so at home.
Lizzie and I had finished the hon
esty box and now it sat at the entrance to the farm with its hand-painted sign, proudly displaying Appleby Farm’s wares. Only free-range eggs at the moment, but soon there would be fruit and vegetables from Auntie Sue’s veggie patch and apples by the tonne in autumn. We had made ten pounds on the first day alone!
The last two days had flashed by in a busy blur as new life seemed to spring up from all quarters around the farm, from chicks hatching, now sunning themselves under a heat lamp in the barn, to the last and final calf being born to Auntie Sue’s beloved Jersey cow, Gaynor. Lizzie and I had been tasked with naming both the Jersey calves and had come up with Kim and Kanye, which went over Auntie Sue’s head but gave us hours of amusement. The barley was shooting up in Bottom Field, the grass was flourishing after a couple of days of unbroken sunshine and, of course – hot news – there was a new romance blooming between Ross and Lizzie.
As much as I was going to miss being part of the family at Appleby Farm, seeing the two of them together had made me miss Charlie even more. He would be working an early shift when my train arrived back into Kingsfield, so I’d have to wait until the evening to show him exactly how much. And I planned to leave him in no doubt about my feelings on the matter.
‘It’ll be quiet without you, lass,’ sighed Auntie Sue as I entered the kitchen. She was packing a cake, jam, a still-warm loaf, half a dozen eggs and some leftover hotpot into plastic tubs for me to take back with me. Uncle Arthur sat at the table reading Farmer’s Weekly magazine.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her plump cheek. ‘I’ll come back very soon, I promise. With Charlie, hopefully.’ I crossed my fingers.
‘Make sure you do,’ said Uncle Arthur. ‘You’ve been a breath of fresh air for us, hasn’t she, Sue?’
‘I’ve loved it,’ I said, swallowing that pesky lump that had returned to my throat. I walked over to him and peered over his shoulder. ‘Is that calf all right now?’
The little calf who hadn’t been feeding had needed a vet’s visit. Lizzie and I had been hoping we’d have to bring her in and bottle feed her back to health, but the less intervention the better, Ross had informed us, and he seemed to know what he was talking about.
Appleby Farm Page 6