‘I’m glad for you,’ I said, kissing her cheek.
I suddenly thought of Harry and his reason for ending our kiss. You mean too much to me … His words echoed my dad’s from decades ago. That was it! That must be why he couldn’t kiss me, because he thought I would be moving on again and leaving the farm. But unlike my mum, I wasn’t going anywhere. He had thought I was off on a new adventure. But my new adventure was right here. That had to mean we still had a chance. Didn’t it?
Chapter 38
It was moving day. December. Not the ideal time of year to have your kitchen door propped open, exposing the house to the Cumbrian elements, but Auntie Sue’s dream bungalow was ready and the pair of them wanted to get themselves settled before Christmas. I was glad we’d decided to close the tea rooms for the day; the removal men had arrived at seven thirty this morning in an impossibly big lorry that almost filled the farmyard and had been tramping in noisy procession backwards and forwards to the house ever since.
‘Should I make more tea, do you think, lass?’ worried Auntie Sue. ‘Or offer the men some shortbread?’
Auntie Sue had been packed since last week, which meant her sole occupation this morning was to fret and flap.
I handed her a pair of scissors instead and led her outside. ‘Why don’t you go outside and pick yourself a bunch of winter foliage to arrange in a vase when you get to the bungalow?’
‘Good idea,’ she said breathily and disappeared into the shrubs, muttering about skimmia and euonymus and whether the birds had left her any berries on the holly. I sighed with relief. Flower arranging always calmed her down.
The lights were on in the tea room. I had taken on a new part-timer, Rachel, and she had come in to do some cleaning and tidying while we were quiet. She lived locally and arrived on her horse for work, which I thought had to be the best form of commuter transport ever. Lizzie was touring vintage shops to pick up last-minute props for Aidan and Tilly’s wedding; we still needed something vintage for the wedding favours and I wanted a quirky way of presenting the seating plan. Mum and Dad had disappeared for a couple of days to a hotel.
‘To give Sue and Arthur some space,’ Mum had said, ‘otherwise it will look like we’re hovering.’ She also confided that she’d planned to do some serious furniture shopping although, wisely, she had kept Dad in the dark about that part of the itinerary.
Goat was taking advantage of my parents’ absence to decimate the first floor and no sooner had Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur removed their toothbrushes from the bathroom, than he and another man began swinging lump hammers at the internal walls to make way for the new master suite.
By lunchtime the lorry was packed up and the removals men were ready to go. One of them guided the driver as he reversed all the way down the farm track and trundled off the short distance to the bungalow. The builders stopped work for their lunch break and I sent them over to the tea rooms out of the way. Almost at once a welcome peace reigned over the farm.
‘Well,’ said Auntie Sue, removing the doorstop from the farmhouse door and pulling it to behind her, ‘I think that’s everything.’
I gave her a hug. ‘You OK?’
She pulled a cotton handkerchief from her coat pocket and sniffed. ‘Never better,’ she said, dabbing her eyes.
The two of us stood on the doorstep, just as we had that dark night at Easter when I’d arrived. She still smelled the same – fresh bread and Nivea face cream – but so many other things had changed. The beef herd – what was left of it – was newly installed at a farm in Gloucestershire, the barn was now our vintage tea rooms and Clover Field would have holidaymakers in it next year instead of cattle. But it wasn’t just the farm that had changed, we all had.
‘End of an era.’ Auntie Sue sighed.
‘Start of a new adventure, too,’ I added.
‘Right,’ said Auntie Sue stoically, ‘where is Artie? I’m getting in the car.’
The Land Rover was staying at the farm; the ancient thing was better suited to romping over fields than roads, so Uncle Arthur had bought them a sensible little run-around.
I pulled on Dad’s emerald-green jumper, which I’d recently appropriated. It swamped me but was the cosiest thing ever and, although I said so myself, it set off my skin tone perfectly. I walked Auntie Sue down to the car where Madge was already waiting. She’d taken one look at the lorry this morning and taken refuge on the driver’s seat. Benny and Björn, sensibly, were nowhere to be seen; they were staying at the farm until Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur had settled in.
‘I’ll find him,’ I said, ‘he won’t have gone far.’
I ran back to the farmhouse and up to the top of the stairs calling his name, poking my head into every room, but there was no sign of him. I stopped at the nursery. Auntie Sue didn’t keep the door locked any more. I walked in and stood in the centre of the room, absorbing the love from the sunny yellow walls and the perfectly painted nursery rhyme characters and my heart heaved with sadness.
New start for them, though, I thought, a new happy chapter in their lives and who knows, one day, perhaps, there will be children at Appleby Farm. But enough of the daydreams. I left the nursery behind and ran back downstairs; for now, I’d settle for locating my wayward uncle.
‘Any joy?’ Auntie Sue shouted as I came back outside.
I shook my head and darted off to check the farm buildings. I did a tour of the cowsheds, the stables, the barn, and even the sheds. Still nothing.
Auntie Sue, getting fed up, tooted on the car horn but he still didn’t materialize.
I walked back over to the car.
‘Did he have a favourite spot, Auntie Sue? Somewhere special where he may have gone?’ I asked anxiously as she wound down the window.
She wrinkled her forehead and then sighed sadly. ‘It was all his favourite, love. He could be anywhere. I’ll get out and walk up the fields, see if I can spot him.’
‘Not in those shoes,’ I laughed.
She’d changed into her best shoes and wool coat to arrive at her new abode. Uncle Arthur had wolf-whistled when he’d seen her and joked that he hoped she wasn’t expecting him to carry her over the threshold again.
‘You stay here,’ I said, racking my brains to think where he might have gone and which path to take.
I trotted down to the orchard with the intention of letting myself through the gate and into Clover Field, trying not to panic. Uncle Arthur was probably chewing the cud with Eddy, I told myself firmly; they’d be reminiscing about old times. It didn’t work. My pulse was galloping like a racehorse.
Suddenly I spied him. He was at the far side of the orchard, slumped on the old bench facing Clover Field. I approached him from behind, smiling to myself at the tufts of grey hair visible over the collar of his winter coat.
‘There you are!’ I called. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Figuratively speaking,’ I laughed.
Uncle Arthur didn’t move. Or speak.
My heart thundered in my chest as I ran through the trees and raced to his side. No. Not now. Not after all we’d been through to reach this moment.
He turned and gave me a watery smile. ‘Just saying goodbye, lass.’
My legs gave way and I collapsed down on to the bench beside him, clutching my heart. I blinked at him and took his hand.
‘You OK?’ I asked.
I thought we’d lost you.
He gazed at the fields that stretched out in front of us, acre after acre of grassland.
‘Until I saw those fields empty I didn’t quite believe my farming days were over.’
‘I know it’s not the same as seeing a herd out there grazing,’ I said, ‘but Harry will look after it, I’m sure.’
Uncle Arthur nodded. ‘He’s a smashing lad and you’ll be here, too. I never thought there would be Moorcrofts at Appleby Farm after me and your auntie had gone. Thanks, love.’
He squeezed my hand and I grinned at him. ‘Thank you, you mean. This f
arm is a gift. You told me that. And it’s the best gift I’ve ever had.’
In the distance there was an impatient tooting of a car horn.
‘We’d better go,’ I said, helping my uncle to his feet. ‘Your life of leisure awaits you.’
I waved and waved until their little car had bounced down the track and disappeared from view. And then there was just me.
So this was it.
I took a deep breath, feeling slightly overwhelmed.
Another generation of Moorcrofts had left the farm and I had been promoted to its guardian angel. Unbelievably, I had got my wish. Scary, though.
I turned with a shaky sigh to face the farmhouse and for a moment I stood and let everything sink in. Its cheery stone frontage with its nine sash windows and three chunky little chimney pots seemed to beckon me in and I felt my heart swell with a mix of anticipation and hope. Appleby Farm had a kind of magic all of its own and whatever the future held for me and my ambitious plans, I felt instinctively like it was on my side.
I cleared my throat to pull myself back to the present. Christmas decorations, I decided, that’s what I’d do for the rest of the day. I’d go out and buy a tree, fill every empty corner of the farmhouse with fairy lights, glittery baubles and tinsel, and by tonight I would be so exhausted that I wouldn’t even notice how lonely I felt.
I was about to go inside in search of the old box of Christmas decorations when the sound of a diesel engine approaching the farmyard stopped me in my tracks.
It was Harry in his pick-up truck. My spirits lifted instantly and my face was wreathed in a smile by the time he pulled up at the farmhouse gate and wound down his window.
‘Just in time.’ I grinned. ‘You can help me look for something.’
‘What, your hands?’ His eyes twinkled at the long sleeves of Dad’s jumper.
‘Ta-dah!’ I sang, producing my fingers from the depths of their woollen cocoon.
‘So Arthur and Sue have moved out?’ he said, serious all of a sudden.
I nodded. ‘Their retirement began as of five minutes ago.’
‘Great, great.’ His eyes met mine and then flicked away again. ‘You’re staying, then, in Lovedale?’
I beamed at him. ‘I am. Can you believe it? I’m back for good.’
‘For good,’ he said in a low voice, as though he was testing out the words for himself.
We stared at each other for what felt like ages. The atmosphere between us was so heavy that it was all I could do not to dive in through the window of his truck and snog the face off him.
Harry rubbed his hands together, breaking the spell. He grinned mischievously. ‘Well, in that case, I’ve got something for you. Close your eyes,’ he demanded.
‘Yeah, right,’ I scoffed. ‘Last time you said that and I obeyed you, you tipped a pot of worms down my back.’
‘Freya, the last time I said that I was thirteen,’ he said softly.
So softly, in fact, that heat spread from the pit of my stomach to my face as quickly as a grass fire. I snapped my eyes shut and did as I was told.
I listened to him jump out of the truck and slam the door. My heart was beating like a drum and the urge to spring my eyes open was immense. I felt his presence in front of me and I inhaled discreetly, revelling in the earthy scent of him.
What has he got for me? I wondered. Please let it be a kiss. My lips were almost numb with the agony of waiting to be kissed again by Harry Graythwaite.
‘Now put your hands out.’
Even as my spirits dipped at the realization that a kiss didn’t seem to be on the cards, they instantly rose again as Harry deposited a warm furry body into my arms.
‘A puppy!’ I gasped, opening my eyes wide. ‘You’ve brought me one of your puppies!’
A tiny ball of red fur, with ears that looked too long for its body, started burrowing into my jumper. I clamped my hands round its little pot belly and lifted it up to have a good look.
‘Thank you!’ I smiled. I stood on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. ‘I love him, or is it a her?’
‘Her. No farm is complete without a dog,’ said Harry with a half-smile, stroking the puppy’s back with his forefinger.
‘Odd choice for a farm dog,’ I said in a gruff voice, mimicking my uncle.
Harry threw back his head and laughed. ‘Arthur’s right and I didn’t dare let on that the previous owners had named her Belle after the Disney princess. That would have ruined my macho image completely.’
Not with me it wouldn’t.
I grinned at him. ‘In that case, I’ll call her Elsa after the princess from Frozen. Continue the family tradition. No one will ever know. Hello, Elsa.’ I kissed the puppy on her nose and she instantly tried to lick my face.
‘Ouch!’
Harry chuckled as the puppy sank her tiny teeth into my nose. ‘I chose this one for you because she’s a ball of energy, into everything, full of fun. Just like you.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘You should.’
‘Your timing is perfect, too. I was just contemplating the fact that I’m going to be all on my own tonight and the prospect really doesn’t appeal.’
I risked a look at his handsome face, willing him to take the hint.
I could just reach out and pull him close, I thought, and run my fingers through his hair. Perhaps this time, he wouldn’t push me away. But what if he did? I’d already made a fool of myself once. Did I really want to risk a second rejection? Far safer to let him make the first move. And then I’d know for sure.
I just hoped there would be a next time.
But before I had time to act, Harry grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me towards the house.
‘Go on.’ He shooed me and my new playmate up the path. ‘Get her inside or she really will be frozen.’
‘OK, OK, Mr Bossy Pants,’ I giggled, scooting up to the door. ‘Let’s go and find a blanket or … Oh!’
I turned, expecting him to be close behind me, but instead he was back at his truck.
Harry cleared his throat. ‘I’d better be off,’ he said, his eyes clouded with an expression that I couldn’t quite read. ‘Give you two a chance to bond.’
‘Right. Good idea.’ My voice sounded stilted and I tried to soften my words with, ‘Thanks again.’
He raised a hand in goodbye and disappeared in a cloud of diesel smoke just as Goat and the builders emerged from the tea rooms, all balancing their lunch boxes on their heads.
‘Men,’ I muttered to Elsa, ‘are impossible to understand.’
Chapter 39
The rest of December flew by in a whirl of wedding planning, puppy training and building work. Before I knew it, the schools had broken up for the Christmas holidays and Tilly and Aidan’s wedding party of thirty had descended on Lovedale.
On the day of the wedding I was up with the larks. Actually, I was up before the larks. It was still dark outside and the only sound in the kitchen, where I sat with Elsa asleep on my lap, checking the umpteen things on my to-do list, was the snuffling and snoring of bodies stretched out in their sleeping bags in front of the fireplace.
The weather forecast predicted temperatures barely rising above freezing and the possibility of light snow showers. This to me sounded perfect for a winter wedding.
Most people had arrived last night and we’d had quite a party until eleven o’clock when Tilly, very sensibly, had issued instructions for bed. Not everyone was staying in the farmhouse: Tilly’s mum and partner and Aidan’s parents were over in the White Lion; Tilly and her bridesmaid, Gemma, were staying in Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur’s spare room (their first guests – Auntie Sue had been baking and cleaning for them all week); Aidan’s sister and family had taken over my room and the little nursery on the top floor; and the people in sleeping bags at the other end of the kitchen were Aidan’s best man and his wife, and two teachers from Tilly’s school. Various other guests were dotted around the area in rented cottages.
>
‘Morning,’ whispered Mum, tiptoeing into the kitchen. ‘Tea?’
I nodded and she slipped the kettle on to the Aga and took out mugs and tea bags as quietly as she could.
‘Couldn’t you sleep either?’ I asked softly as she slid a mug in front of me.
She shook her head. ‘I’ve got the cake to finish. But I can’t function until I’ve had my tea.’
The cake, currently boxed and on the kitchen table, was going to be a thing of beauty: a single tier covered in snowy white icing. She had bought two feathered lovebirds and made a tiny heart-shaped arbour, which the birds would nestle underneath.
Tilly’s eyes had welled up with tears when she’d seen it. She’d also cried when she’d seen the tea rooms, already laid for dinner – vintage lace tablecloths, floral china, bunches of winter foliage arranged in colourful glass bottles along every table. The seating plan, which took the form of miniature bunting pegged on old-fashioned string, had also produced gasps of delight.
‘You’ve put so much work into it, Freya,’ she’d marvelled, fingering the retro bags of sweets we’d arranged at everyone’s place. ‘All the little details. It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.’
Mum tightened her dressing-gown belt before sitting down beside me. Elsa instantly sprang up and leaped on to her knee. We shared a smile as the puppy wagged her entire body at the sight of a new person before settling back into sleep.
‘Let’s have a look at your list,’ she said, reading over my shoulder. ‘Mistletoe, champagne, bells, ribbon – oh, very romantic.’
‘It is, isn’t it?’ I smiled, kissing her cheek. ‘Our first wedding, Mum.’
She sipped her tea and smiled. ‘Exciting. And you’ve worked so hard, darling, I’m sure it will be a great success.’
‘I know that marriage is all about celebrating love and life together, but the wedding is the start of the journey and I adore the thought that I’ll have helped make Tilly and Aidan’s day magical for them.’
We sat in the silence of our own thoughts for a few seconds when suddenly I wondered when I’d get my own magical day and a sigh slipped out.
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