Spring Fever (Tales From Appleyard Book 2)

by Emma Davies

  She returned to the table once more, Sam’s head still bent over the laptop.

  ‘Did you have these at Braeburn?’ she asked, looking over his shoulder.

  ‘Something like it, yes. Although Stephen could never see the point in shelling out for these.’

  Freya looked at the face she loved, the gentle green eyes and the soft curl of the hair above his ears. She knew how hard it must be for him even to be here. To have moved out of the house he had lived in since childhood, and now be taking his place by her side on land that wasn’t his, in a house that wasn’t his, and to put his heart and soul into a business that wasn’t his. They weren’t yet married, and even when they were she couldn’t help but wonder how it would all feel to Sam. But the generous mouth she had covered so many times with her own was pulled into a pout that said more than words ever could. She needed to tread gently.

  She leant forward, trying to attract his attention.

  ‘I’m not sure that I can see the point either, to be honest,’ she said. ‘They’re far too big for what we need. Couldn’t we manage with something a bit more modest?’

  ‘But it gives us no room to manoeuvre, Freya. As we expand we’ll only have to replace them, so where’s the logic in that?’

  Freya had a feeling they were going to go round in circles, and much though she didn’t want to raise her head above the parapet, another part recognised the need to take the conversation to another level. She decided to bite the bullet.

  ‘Are you sure you’re not just going with these because they’re bigger and better than what Stephen has?’

  Sam’s head swivelled around immediately, and Freya heard his sharply inhaled breath.

  ‘Is that what you think?’ He glared. ‘That this is all some game to get back at Stephen? Has it never occurred to you that I might want what’s best for us?’

  Freya refused to take the bait. She considered her next words carefully. ‘I think you believe that these things are what’s best for us,’ she said, ‘at the moment. But I also think you’re fooling yourself, telling yourself what you want to hear, and I think that has everything to do with Stephen. If you were thinking straight, and Stephen wasn’t around, I think your decisions would be different, and those are the ones that would be best for us.’ She picked up the brochure, looking straight at Sam. ‘Because they would be decisions made by the two of us, together, with no third party involvement.’

  For a moment she thought she had got away with it, but then Sam’s eyes clouded and his mouth set in a hard line.

  ‘I thought you might have had a little more faith in me at least. Talk about throwing it all back in my face—’

  ‘I’m not being critical, or ungrateful,’ bit back Freya, interrupting him. ‘But what I am doing is trying to put an end to this endless fighting between the two of you. It’s got to stop, and I’ll be damned if I let Appleyard become your own personal battlefield.’ She was aware that her voice had risen considerably and she forced it back down again. ‘Look Sam, I do understand how it is for you, but you have nothing to prove as far as Stephen is concerned. I love you. Appleyard is as much yours now as it is mine, and what’s important is that we do things for us, because they’re right for us, not to prove a point to anyone else. Stephen can do what he bloody well likes. He said he’d talk to you and I happen to think he will, but if I’m wrong, then let him get on with things; it’s his business not ours.’

  Sam’s shoulders sank a little lower as he took in Freya’s words. He reached for her hand with a small sigh, a rueful smile softening his expression.

  ‘Shall we go back to the beginning again?’ he said, shaking his head in amusement. ‘I’ll close this poncey website down and we can get back to our original list of things we need to think about.’

  Freya gave him an answering smile, and rummaged on the table for her notebook and pencil. She was flicking through the pages when Sam’s harsh voice cut through her thoughts.

  ‘What do you mean Stephen said he’d talk to me, Freya? Just when was this exactly?’

  Bugger.

  ‘Don’t you start,’ grumbled Merry. ‘I’ve had enough with the villagers telling me we’re doomed without you buying into the whole silly curse thing as well. This house is not under some dark spell and neither are we.’ She stood beside her husband looking down on the road beneath their bedroom window as Merry’s crumpled car was slowly towed away.

  ‘So that phone call from the builders telling me they can’t come back for three whole weeks isn’t more bad luck?’ replied Tom, rubbing at the dirty window pane.

  ‘It is bad luck, yes, but nothing more. These things happen.’

  ‘Well they seem to be happening to us rather a lot at the moment,’ he said, his finger squeaking against the glass.

  Merry stilled his hand. ‘Will you stop that, look, you’re making it all smeary.’ She was determined not to credit Tom’s concern. Admittedly her thoughts had been straying in that same direction a few days ago, but that was before Robyn had become ill, and since then, bizarrely, amid all the anguish and confusion that had been heaped upon them, Merry now felt a profound peace. She also felt inclined to stick up for Christopher and his house.

  ‘You know you could look at what’s happened from another point of view; that the crow chose to come down the chimney in the only room in the house full of furniture we’re not using, that it was still alive, and I got to hold its body in my hands before setting it free. That Robyn’s illness wasn’t the more serious form, and that we caught it quickly… even the tree came down when no-one else was here, and of all the places that it could have fallen, it missed the house and the shop completely, and given all the things it could have landed on, it picked the one thing that in relative terms wasn’t worth a great deal.’

  A small smile played across Tom’s lips. ‘And what about the work in the shop?’ he asked, pulling his wife to him in a playful hug.

  ‘Well I haven’t quite worked that one out yet…’ Merry smirked, ‘but, I’m sure I shall.’ She turned her attention back to the window and the rivers of rain that ran down it. Outside, a dark wall of cloud proclaimed little change in the weather.

  ‘Anyway I don’t think we’re the ones in need of luck,’ she remarked, tilting her head towards the cluster of houses that sat at the bottom of the hill. ‘I wouldn’t want to be down there right now. Look how far the river has come up in the last few hours.’

  Tom followed her line of sight and stared out of the window as if seeing the rain for the first time.

  ‘It wasn’t like that this morning,’ he said. ‘I wonder if it usually floods.’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ frowned Merry. ‘But Cora would probably know. I could give her a ring?’

  Tom glanced at his watch. ‘Perhaps you should,’ he agreed. ‘I might just go out and take a look before it gets dark. Will you be okay here?’

  ‘We’ll be fine,’ said Merry pointedly. ‘But you’ll get soaked going out there. Do you really think it’s necessary?’

  ‘I’ve never really noticed it before now, but look at the bend in the river and the slope of the hill. If it goes over it will take out all the houses below it down by the pond. They’re directly in its path.’

  Merry stared at Tom, her heart beginning to beat a little quicker. ‘I’ll go and ring Cora,’ she said.

  It was a full hour before Tom returned, dumping his boots by the back door and standing in the kitchen, his waxed jacket dripping a steady stream of water onto the floor.

  ‘It’s come up even higher just in the time I’ve been out,’ he said, as Merry and Cora looked up anxiously from the table. ‘If the rain continues it will flood for definite, I’m sure.’

  ‘But that’s what I don’t understand,’ said Cora. ‘The flood plain has always taken the weight of the water before it ever gets this high. That’s what it’s there for.’

  Tom looked puzzled for a moment. ‘None of the fields is flooded Cora, I’ve been the whole length of the village and ba
ck again. Where is this flood plain?’

  ‘Out on the left as you go through, opposite the new estate. That’s why the houses are only on one side of the road. The developers fought long and hard to get permission to build on the other side as well, but all the villagers petitioned, and the town council quite rightly refused permission. The flood plain can never be built on, it would be a disaster.’

  ‘But there’s no water there, Cora. None at all. In fact if anything I’d say the water level is lower on that side of the village.’

  Cora got up from the table, her face anxious in the dimming light. ‘That doesn’t make any sense… unless…unless the bridge is somehow blocked. That might explain it. Did you take a look at it Tom?’

  ‘Only from the car. The water’s high but I couldn’t see any obstruction.’

  ‘Then might I suggest you get down there again and have another look. At the very least we ought to warn the folks who live down by the pond. Perhaps Merry could ring Bill at the pub in the meantime; he and his wife know everyone in that row of cottages. They’ll know what to do. And if you know of anyone with big strong muscles who could give you a hand I suggest you ring them too. There might be a bit of furniture that needs moving.’

  Merry nodded as she watched Tom shrug his coat back on. By the time he reached the door she had already picked up her phone.

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous,’ argued Freya, ‘you’re completely overreacting.’

  ‘Oh am I,’ snarled Sam, his eyes blazing. ‘Put yourself in my shoes, Freya. You go and see my brother behind my back, in an attempt to convince him to do the very thing I’d already asked him to, and yet you claim to have every faith in me. It doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing. You’ve questioned everything I’ve said today, so go on, admit it, you’re still not sure I’m man enough for the job, are you?’

  Freya stared at Sam, her mouth hanging open. ‘Oh for goodness’ sake, how many times Sam? How many times do I have to tell you—?’

  A shrill noise interrupted her, and it threw her for a moment as she tried to work out where the sound was coming from. She tried to ignore it and remember what she was saying, but the noise was accompanied by a harsh vibrating that made everything on the table shudder. Freya fished her phone from under some papers and tutted in exasperation. She was about to silence the call and switch her mobile off when she caught sight of the name on the display. She held up a hand to Sam.

  ‘Merry, what is it, is Robyn okay?’ she asked in a panic, all thoughts of their argument forgotten. ‘Oh thank goodness for that.’

  Sam was standing right in front of her, and she saw his shoulders relax at her words. She listened to Merry’s anxious voice, her thoughts racing away from her at what she heard. After a moment she gave a swift nod and ended the call. She looked down at the phone in her hands and then back up at Sam.

  ‘We need to get over to Lower Witley as soon as possible,’ she said, ‘so go and get your boots and your mac on, we’re going to get wet.’ She turned to go and fetch her own from the hall closet. ‘And no arguments, go and ring Stephen, we need his help too.’

  Chapter 16

  ‘Can you see anything?’ shouted Sam, his voice snatched away by the wind as he leant out over the bridge.

  Below him, Tom edged gingerly down the bank beside the road. One hand grabbed a bush as he tried to lower himself further, and the other inched its way down the wall, loath to let go of the parapet. The noise was ferocious.

  The thick bushes thrashed in the wind and it was impossible to tell what he was looking at. Tom knew he would have to get lower still if he was to see what was going on. He swung his body round for a moment, throwing his weight forwards into the bush as he sought to get a firmer grip with his feet. He let the bush take his weight as he braced himself against it, and slid one hand down to grasp a thicker branch. His feet slid further down the bank and there was now nothing to save him if he fell, but a tumble of grasses and low lying shrubs which would part easily if any weight were put on them.

  His feet met water as he strained forwards, finally seeing what had caused the river to rise so dramatically. A small tree had become completely wedged under the bridge, its trunk stuck fast against the walls with a tumult of debris straining behind it. Several smaller logs and branches were bouncing about the water seeking an escape. He shook the rain off his face and tried to lever himself backwards, his feet slipping in the sodden mud.

  A hand reached down to pull him the last few steps as he neared road level once more, and Sam’s concerned face came into view. ‘Did you see anything?’ he shouted again, shuddering as a fresh draught of rain trickled down the back of his neck.

  Tom motioned towards Sam’s pick-up where they could talk a little easier. He climbed inside, passing a hand over his face to remove a curl of hair that dripped water over one eye.

  ‘The bridge is partially blocked,’ he said. ‘Right in the middle. A tree has come down stream and wedged itself against the bridge walls. The weight of water and other rubbish behind it is only pushing it tighter. Some water is getting through, but it’s acting like a dam. If we don’t move the tree the river will flood further back for sure.’

  Sam nodded, a grim expression on his face. ‘Any ideas how we get the tree out?’ he asked.

  Tom shook his head. ‘Not one. Not yet anyway. How is everyone else doing?’

  ‘Bill has rounded up as many folk as he can to help, and so far Freya and Stephen have a team in each house, shifting what they can of the furniture upstairs. There are six houses down by the pond altogether, it’s not going to be a quick job.’

  ‘Okay, I need to ring Merry and let her know what’s going on. Then I suggest we get our heads together to see what we can do about that tree.’

  Merry pushed the plate towards Cora. ‘It’s ridiculous isn’t it? I feel so helpless up here, while they’re all slogging their guts out down there. I can’t think of a single thing to do except eat cake and drink tea.’

  ‘Well I for one am very grateful,’ replied Cora, helping herself to a chunk of the fruit cake. It’s fiendish out there. These old bones have seen a few rough storms in their time but this is up there with the best of them that’s for sure.’

  Merry picked at a crumb on her plate. ‘I’m scared, Cora,’ she said with a small smile. ‘What if something happens to any of them?’

  ‘I think perhaps we need something to do while we wait,’ she answered, neatly sidestepping the question. ‘It’s not good to dwell on our fears. Why don’t you show me all the wonderful plans you have for your shop? Robyn is fast asleep and now would be as good a time as any.’

  ‘Or you could tell me about Christopher… you did say you would,’ replied Merry, refilling her friend’s tea cup.

  Cora sighed. ‘Well I can see that you’re not going to give up pestering me about that, although I’m not so sure that now is the right time to be talking about it.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think Christopher will mind,’ Merry replied, a twinkle catching in her eye. ‘And if you think about it, maybe it’s exactly the right time.’

  ‘Well he would certainly approve of what you’re doing here, that I do know.’

  ‘I’m glad you think so.’ Merry smiled wistfully. ‘It’s so strange when you think of all the unhappiness this house must have seen recently, and yet it’s never felt like a sad house to me, particularly now.’

  ‘Do you believe in ghosts, Merry?’

  The question surprised her a little, although she supposed it was entirely logical, given what they were discussing. It was hard to put into words how she felt exactly. She didn’t think she was a believer as such, but neither did she discount things out of hand. She did believe in instinct, or fate, and at times things had felt very right to Merry, and at others, very wrong.

  ‘I wouldn’t exactly call them ghosts,’ she said, ‘but I do think that sometimes strong emotions or energies can be left behind. Maybe that’s all ghosts are anyway, I don’t know. I’ve been in
places sometimes that I couldn’t wait to get away from, the hairs have literally stood up on the back of my neck although I’ve never known why, and yet at other times I’ve felt profoundly peaceful.’

  ‘And is this how you feel about Five Penny House?’

  Merry tipped her head as if listening out for something. ‘Kind of. Although actually now I feel energised by it. Maybe the time of year has something to do with it, but I can’t wait to get the shop open and see how wonderful everything looks. Despite all the setbacks, I sense a real optimism about things. I don’t think Christopher is haunting us, or anything like that, but like you say, I think perhaps he approves of what we’re trying to do.’

  Cora took another sip of her tea and nodded at Merry’s words. ‘You know, I always felt as if Christopher had become stuck, in life I mean. He was such a vibrant man when I first knew him, the whole family were, and you only have to look at his art to know that, but in later years he became so deeply buried in his grief that that part of him became lost, and he could never seem to find his way back to it. I think he meant to, he just didn’t know how.’

  ‘He must have been devastated by his wife and daughter dying. I can’t imagine how you could ever recover from something like that.’ Merry gave an involuntary shudder. ‘I hope I never have to find out.’

  ‘It was all so sudden, I suppose. That was the hardest thing,’ added Cora. ‘One minute Catherine was here, and the next she wasn’t. Just a simple cold, and to start with she didn’t even seem that poorly, but within days it had turned to pneumonia. She died in her sleep, two days later.’