by Emma Davies
Freya smiled at the excitement on her friend’s face, which was obviously catching because Robyn’s arms and legs began to jiggle up and down as if she was dancing.
‘I think you’re going to be very happy here,’ she said to them both.
‘Hold that thought,’ grinned Merry in return. ‘You haven’t seen the shop yet.’
Optimistic, thought Freya; that was one word she’d have used. Or imaginative, that was another good one. You’d have to be both to see anything shop-like about the building to the side of Five Penny House. It was at least made of brick, but, as Tom pulled open the door into the dark space beyond, it was evident that the only things still in one piece were the walls. A large part of the ceiling had collapsed in one corner, and opposite that, where the rain had poured through a broken window, the plasterboard had sagged and buckled away from one whole side of the building. Apart from that the room was full of dirty and dusty junk.
‘Okay…’ said Sam, slowly. ‘I’ve seen the mess in Freya’s barn, but if you don’t mind me saying, this is rather more than that.’
Tom scratched his head, as a trail of cobweb settled on it. ‘Yes, it’s not the property’s crowning glory, I’ll give you that. But at least the structure’s sound. Even the ceiling is not as bad as it looks.’
‘Well I said I couldn’t remember there ever having been a shop here, and no wonder,’ said Freya. ‘It can’t have been open for decades.’
Merry nodded, being careful to keep Robyn out of the dust. ‘Probably before we were born,’ she replied.
‘But what do you think?’ urged Tom. ‘Are we mad or what?’
Freya gave Sam a long look, her lips pursed together. He obviously wasn’t entirely sure what to say, but Freya wasn’t quite so reticent.
‘I think you’re completely bloody mad,’ she said succinctly. ‘Although, actually, I wouldn’t expect anything less. The house is brilliant, but you’ve certainly got your work cut out for you here… When did you say you wanted this place open?’
‘June. At the latest,’ commented Tom. ‘Three months, that’s all.’
Freya snorted. ‘Well good luck with that.’ She stopped for a moment, peering back into the gloom of the dingy room. ‘Seriously though, I am thrilled for you. It’s a brilliant opportunity, and I know you’re not afraid of hard work. Please just promise me that you’ll ask for help when you need it, especially with little Robyn here.’
She looked at Merry and Tom’s smiling faces. ‘We should have some champagne really, I’m sorry I didn’t think.’
‘Oh, plenty of time for that when we actually move in,’ smiled Merry. ‘We’ll just have to pretend for today,’ she added, raising her hand as if holding a glass.
‘For all of us facing our new beginnings,’ she said. ‘To the future!’
‘To the future!’ they chorused.
Chapter 2
It was still raining. Freya stood at the kitchen window looking out into the yard, and waited for the kettle to boil. There wasn’t much else to do on a day like today. Or the day before for that matter; It had been raining all week. She was longing to get out into the orchard, to walk the rows and rows of her precious apple trees, but all that would accomplish was a thorough soaking. It was a little too early in the year for the flowers to appear; they were still in tight bud, but it was the promise of them that she loved. The thrill that she always got on the day when she spied the first delicate pearly pink blooms beginning to find the sky, was something she would never tire of. It wouldn’t be today though.
‘Looking at the rain won’t make it stop,’ came the voice from behind her.
Sam was sitting at the kitchen table, an open laptop in front of him. ‘Come and have a look at these and see what you think,’ he said, motioning to the chair beside him.
Freya sighed and went to join him. She was bored, and she knew that she should be taking more of an interest in the equipment they needed if they were going to rejuvenate Appleyard. But it wasn’t the lumps of metal and machinery that excited her; it was the alchemy of the thing. It was seeing the blossoms filled with bees and knowing that soon tiny apples would appear as if by magic. It was feeling the kiss of the summer sun on her skin, knowing that its golden rays were turning the starch within the apples to sugar and, eventually, eking out the glorious autumn days until the fruit was so ripe that the tree offered it up as a gift. This was what fuelled the fire in Freya’s veins.
She peered at the screen in front of her, trying to concentrate on what Sam was saying.
‘See, this is what I mentioned the other day,’ he said, pointing. ‘Stephen was adamant we buy these, but I’ve always favoured the Voran. To my mind they’re much superior. They might cost a little more, but the efficiency of juice extraction will pay for itself in the end. Plus the machinery will last twice as long.’
Freya blanched when she caught sight of the price quoted on the website. ‘We can’t afford that, surely?’ she said.
Sam had the grace to look a little embarrassed. ‘We can, actually,’ he replied, taking hold of her hand. ‘Freya, I meant what I said at Christmas. I want us to breathe new life into Appleyard, but I want us to do it together. I won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.’
Sam’s hand felt warm in hers. She smiled. ‘This means a lot to you doesn’t it?’ she said gently.
A soft sigh drifted across to her. ‘I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for this,’ he replied. ‘To get you was the best Christmas present I could ever have wished for. To get a chance to run Appleyard with you as well, is the icing on the cake really, but now that I can, it would seem rude not to have a big slice, wouldn’t it?’
She chuckled. ‘You have such a way with words.’
Sam watched her closely for a moment. ‘And before you ask, no, I’m not just doing this to get one over on Stephen, or be flash with my cash. I want us to succeed, and to me, this makes sound business sense.’
Freya would never have dreamed of making such an overt observation, but Sam knew her so well. It was true, this thought had crossed her mind on more than one occasion. She wouldn’t blame him if he did feel this way; after all he’d spent so many years in Stephen’s shadow, and now that he was finally able to make a life for himself, particularly one that included Freya, it was only natural that he would want to feel a little smug.
She got up to make the tea, collecting the mugs that were already on the table as she went.
‘So how is Stephen anyway?’
It was an innocent enough question, but Freya listened keenly for Sam’s answer. She still felt a bit sad for Stephen. Even though he deserved much that had come to him, he had looked so forlorn on the day he had rescued her from the blizzard last Christmas.
‘I think resigned is probably the word I’d use,’ Sam replied. ‘He seems to have got over that whole thing with his property developer friend. When the sale fell through, I think Stephen realised that he hadn’t actually lost anything at all; he still had a perfectly good business, and he’d better get on and run it. Now that I’m no longer under his feet arguing the toss over everything, I think he feels a little more settled.’
‘Hmm, but he’s lost his best worker of course… everyone knows that you did all the work there, Sam.’
‘Yes, well it won’t hurt him to get his hands dirty for a change either.’
Freya brought the mugs back to the table. ‘You know, what we really need to do, is find him a woman. Not one of those bimbo nymphet types he usually goes for, but a soul-mate, someone who will love Braeburn and him in equal measure.’
‘You don’t have to feel that sorry for him, you know.’
‘I know… but I did nearly marry the bloke. It was a long time ago, but I do feel partly responsible all the same. There’s nothing wrong with wanting him to be happy too is there?’
Sam’s green eyes were soft on hers. ‘Feeling the way I do right now? No, there’s nothing wrong with it. I wish everyone could feel this way.’
; Chapter 3
Freya wasn’t entirely sure Merry would ever actually leave. The plan had been simply to drop Robyn off, but half an hour later, Merry was still going strong, anxiety written all over her face. Little Robyn, however, lay fast asleep in her car seat, utterly oblivious to the drama she was causing.
‘It’s her feeds I’m really worried about,’ said Merry, again. ‘She’s never had a bottle before.’
‘Merry,’ replied Freya, her hands on her hips. ‘She’ll be fine. It looks like breast milk, tastes like breast milk, what’s not to like?’
‘But it’s very different from a bottle, it’s the sensation. Babies mouths are so sensitive, and she’ll know.’
‘I’m sure she will, but she’ll also drink it if she’s hungry, surely? Look–’
An impatient toot cut across her. Merry looked to the door, and then back again, indecision clouding her face. Freya could understand her friend’s concern, but this wasn’t helping. She put on her ‘no-nonsense’ face and decided to take charge.
‘Right, come on, you need to go. Give me that,’ she added, plucking the bag from Merry’s hands. ‘I promise I will heat her milk to exactly the right temperature, and I promise I will apply Sudocreme liberally to her bum when I change her. I also promise not let her roll in the mud or eat chicken poo, and by the time I drop her off she will have learnt her three times table and all the letters of the alphabet… now go!’
She all but propelled Merry through the door. ‘And don’t forget to enjoy yourself,’ she called at her retreating back. ‘This is the start of your new adventure!’
Tom’s brake lights flashed a couple of times as he made his way down the drive, and Freya wouldn’t have been surprised to see Merry leap from the car with something else of vital importance that she’d remembered, but in the end they made it safely out of the yard and onto the road. Freya watched them until the car was out of sight.
She closed the back door and leaned up against it, feeling suddenly exhausted. Perhaps if she closed her eyes it would look better, but no, when she opened them again, her kitchen table was still littered with one hundred and one items, most of which Freya could never see herself needing. There were spare clothes, and then another change (just in case), nappies, lotions, potions, cloths, bibs, toys, milk, a spare bottle and milk (just in case), a couple of towels, a baby monitor, front carrier and, Freya was sure it was there somewhere, a partridge in a pear tree.
Until that moment Freya had always considered herself to be quite a maternal person. She had even allowed herself a few sneaky dreams of what it might be like if she and Sam had a baby, but right now, the little person fast asleep in her kitchen might as well have been an alien species. Freya had no idea it was this complicated to look after a baby, or that she would need so much stuff. Merry could run a thirty bedroom hotel with one eye closed and a hand tied behind her back, but three months of motherhood had clearly tested even her talents. It was a scary scary thing indeed.
Freya eyed Robyn warily, but the baby was still peaceful. She could do with another cup of tea, but surely the noise from the boiling kettle would wake her? Perhaps she could move the baby into another room while it boiled, but then again, wouldn’t the movement wake her anyway? She felt trapped.
It was at times like these that Freya found herself thinking of Amos again. He had been so wise, so comforting, always knowing exactly the right thing to say at exactly the right moment. Or so it had felt. He was like Mary Poppins, or Nanny McPhee she thought to herself, smiling as she remembered a line from the film: “When you need me but do not want me, then I will stay. If you want me, but no longer need me then I must go.” It wasn’t quite the same thing, but it pretty much summed Amos up. It also made her realise the extraordinary gifts that he had given her. She had felt so lost and alone after her father died the year before, but Amos had given her the courage to start living again, to face her future with conviction and believe in herself once more. Her chin lifted as she thought of him.
A deep breath calmed her even further as she crossed the kitchen to fill the kettle. She set it to boil with a wry smile and started to tidy up the mess on her table.
Everything was fine, for the first hour. Robyn woke about half an hour after Merry left, looked around her and then started to bounce her legs up and down in her seat so that the toys strung across the front, danced and jangled. She accompanied their noise with cheerful gurgles and much drooling, and as Freya pottered around the kitchen, she kept up a steady stream of chatter.
Freya had only left the room for a couple of minutes when she was summoned back to the kitchen by an ear splitting wail. Gone was the happy chortling, and in its place was a furious, red-faced baby. The toy that Freya sought to calm her with was resolutely dumped over the side of the chair, and the noise intensified. Further offerings were given the same treatment, until there was nothing for it but to release Robyn from her seat.
The minute she picked her up, the reason for the baby’s distress became apparent. Freya almost gagged as the overwhelming aroma reached her. And to make it worse, something ominous had leaked through Robyn’s Babygro as well. Balancing the baby on her hip, whilst trying to keep her away from her own clothes, Freya grabbed the mat and hurried to the bathroom.
Explosive diarrhoea at nine o’clock in the morning was not something that Freya had much experience of dealing with. She lay Robyn down on the changing mat and gingerly began to undo her clothes. Just keep breathing through your mouth she told herself, and you’ll be fine. Oh Dear God…
She was just beginning to congratulate herself on surviving the ordeal when Freya realised her mistake; she had left Robyn’s changing bag with all her nappies and spare clothes downstairs. She couldn’t leave the baby on the floor, even if it was unlikely that she could go anywhere, and so grabbing a towel off the rail she wrapped it around her and went resolutely back downstairs. By the time she returned Robyn had weed all over the towel, and laying her back down again, Freya added the towel to the sodden assortment of items on the floor beside her. She was only tiny for God’s sake, where did all this stuff come from?
With Robyn safely back in her car seat, Freya gathered up the stinky clothes and threw them in the washing machine. There was no way she could give them back to Merry in the state they were in. She had never had cause to think about the existence of nappy sacks before, or indeed their usefulness, but as she gingerly lifted the soiled nappy and pile of wet wipes into one, she said a prayer in gratitude to Merry for providing them.
As the clock edged past two, Freya could see the end of her challenge in sight. There had been more wee, more poo, and a sticky moment when, despite screaming with hunger, Robyn had flatly refused to drink from the bottle. In the end, reasoning that perhaps babies were like animals and could smell fear, Freya fixed her with a steely glare and said listen sunshine, my boobs will be of absolutely no use to you, so it’s this or nothing. If I were you, I’d shut up and give it a go. Much to her surprise, it had done the trick. After that, she and Robyn had agreed a truce; the baby fell asleep in her arms, and Freya, lulled by the tiny snuffling noises, nodded off as well, her lips brushing the top of the baby’s downy head.
Tom and Merry were leaning up against a pile of boxes in the kitchen, eating Mars bars as if their lives depended on it.
‘Don’t tell me that’s all you’ve had to eat all day,’ remarked Freya, as she deposited the first of Robyn’s bags on the table. ‘Haven’t you had any lunch?’
Tom licked his lips. ‘No, we had lunch. These are emergency fuel rations.’ He waved his empty wrapper. ‘Anyway, onward… shall I give you a hand?’
Merry followed them straight out to the car, just as Freya knew she would.
‘She’s been absolutely fine, Merry, honestly. Although you might have warned me about the amount of bodily fluids she was capable of producing.’
‘What and spoil all the fun?’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘It wasn’t too bad was it?’
Freya handed Tom a
nother bag out of the car. ‘Well, no, not all the time; I had rather a baptism of fire this morning that was all. I’ve done a bit of washing for you as a result, although I’m afraid it’s not quite dry yet.’ She turned and looked back at Merry. ‘More importantly though, how have things gone today? Are you all in?’
‘We are,’ replied Merry. ‘The removal men were gone by twelve and we’ve worked like stink this afternoon to get things sorted. I’ve even managed to get the beds made up already.’ She looked around her to the fields beyond the house. ‘You know, I already love it here. I know the house is hideous in places, but it’s only on the surface. I think we’re going to be really happy here, Freya.’
Freya squeezed her friend’s arm. ‘I know you will. Even the sun came out for you today,’ she said, eyeing the sky, which was already darkening a little. ‘Come on, let’s get back inside before it decides to rain again.’
Chapter 4
Merry could hear the rain battering against the window, but that didn’t stop her rushing to look out. With no curtains up yet she had woken early, even earlier than Robyn, and was filled with a sudden rush of excited energy.
She’d been completely exhausted of course, when she’d finally gone to bed, but had slept like the proverbial log. Even the lime green walls hadn’t intruded into her dreams. Now, as she stood looking out onto the spread of the village below, she felt a deep calm and contented peace. Tom still lay snoring gently in bed, and knowing that it couldn’t be long before Robyn did wake up, she slipped from the room and went downstairs.
As moving days went it had all gone like clockwork. There had been no dramas, no mishaps, and even no sticking points over furniture. Most of the rooms still held piles of boxes, but here in the kitchen, the last few to be done held all her china and glassware. As she flicked the kettle on, she pulled open the lid on the uppermost box and started to pull out its contents.