Summer At Willow Tree Farm: the perfect romantic escape for your summer holiday

by Heidi Rice

  ‘Which is all the more reason to try everything to save it.’ Why couldn’t he see that? Was this all simply because he had no faith in her? Why couldn’t he at least give her a chance? ‘I know the idea has come out of left field, but it really is a good…’

  ‘I knew about the damn planning application, Pam and I worked on it together,’ he said, the revelation shocking her into silence.

  ‘But if you knew about it, why didn’t you say something sooner?’

  ‘Because Pam told me not to. She was going to surprise Dee, on the anniversary of their civil partnership. But then she got diagnosed with stage four breast cancer and she wanted me to bury the idea. She didn’t want to risk Dee losing the farm as well as her.’

  ‘I… I didn’t know that. But if you went along with it then, why are you so against the idea now?’

  ‘Because it’s too big of a risk. What if the shop doesn’t work? It’ll be like losing Pam all over again for Dee. It’s easy for you, it’s just some project to keep you occupied before you go home again, but for Dee it could mean losing every damn thing that matters to her.’

  If she’d wanted evidence that Art did feelings, other than stubbornness or temper, she had it now. But she also had evidence that every damn thing that mattered to Dee didn’t include her.

  ‘She’s not going to lose anything,’ she said, suddenly weary. She couldn’t fight this battle all over again. ‘It’s a good idea. And I promise you, even though I’m going back to the US at the end of the summer, I am totally invested in making this work.’ And she was even more invested now because it turned out she had something to prove to Art as well as Dee. ‘Perhaps you should try trusting me on that?’

  The suggestion hung in the air between them, the blank look on his face all the answer she needed.

  What had she been thinking? Persuading Art to trust anyone, especially her, was about as likely as persuading him to join a Spice Girls tribute band.

  She braced herself for the inevitable slap down. But instead of telling her where she could shove her trust, he simply said, ‘It’s not like I have much of a choice now, is it?’

  She didn’t reply, as he walked back to the workbench. Not sure what to say, the grudging acceptance about as far from a vote of confidence as it was possible to get.

  The saw roared to life.

  She stood and watched him for a moment, her emotions in turmoil, as he snapped the goggles back on and worked the wood.

  He handled the plank with easy competence, his large callused hands stroking the grain. The hairs on his forearms misted with sawdust, more flecks standing out against the sweat pooling at his clavicle.

  The inappropriate heat flooded in her abdomen to go with the rising feeling of inadequacy. She shot out of the workshop into the night.

  She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling despite the warm evening, and spotted the lantern her mother had left burning in the farmhouse window so Art could find his way home in the darkness. The ball of anxiety knotted in her abdomen.

  Art knew her mother now better than she ever could. And whose fault was that, really? His, for being such a bastard to her that whole summer, or hers, for letting the way he treated her mean more than it should?

  However much she might want to dismiss his criticisms of her and the shop project as envy, resentment, his fear of change or simply his trademark Art bullheadedness, she had to accept that underlying all that were some genuine concerns. And if he ever found out how badly she’d stuffed up her own business, not to mention her marriage, he’d think he was even more justified in believing she had no way of pulling this off.

  What Art refused to believe, though, because the man clearly had serious trust issues, was that she was prepared to do everything in her power to make sure the shop was a success. And all she had to do to prove that, to him and her mum and everyone else at the co-op, not to mention herself, was make absolutely sure this was one thing she did not stuff up.

  She trudged back to the farmhouse in her ruined bunny slippers.

  No pressure at all then.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘Right, so which man-killing pedi colour are you?’ Annie delved into her tray of nail polishes, lifting the sample bottles as she read the titles. ‘Juicy Hibis-Kiss? Guilty Pleasure Dominance? Or Tangerine Tigress? Those are my suggestions, to go with your Hot Raspberry Wine fingernails.’

  Ellie squinted at the different colours. ‘They all sound very… suggestive.’

  It had been a week since her showdown with Art and she had been working her butt off. And this evening’s celebration was her reward. After seven days of working on grant applications, construction estimates, work schedules, polishing the business plan, setting up a Twitter and Facebook account and beginning a design on WordPress for the new website, she, Tess, Dee and Annie had spent the afternoon in Mr Hegley’s office at the NatWest bank in Gratesbury explaining exactly why the Willow Tree Farm Shop and Café was going to be the best investment he’d ever made. And, unlike Art, Mr Hegley had agreed with them.

  So now she, Tess, Maddy and Annie were treating themselves to a mani–pedi girls’ night in. The buzz from celebrating their success, not to mention two glasses of Rob’s elderflower champagne, and an hour of girl talk, though, had left her feeling far too euphoric to make informed choices about toenail polish.

  ‘Yeah, Annie,’ Tess said, as she topped up everyone’s glass, ‘don’t you have any colours that aren’t pornographic?’

  Maddy snorted out a laugh while wiggling her recently painted toes. ‘Don’t knock it. I think Jacob is gonna go insane when he gets a load of my Spoilt Diva toes.’

  Given the amount of noise that had been coming out of the bathroom last night before the two of them had sheepishly appeared, Ellie wasn’t convinced Jacob needed any more encouragement.

  ‘I have two toddlers under three, who never sleep simultaneously,’ Annie said. ‘I need all the help I can get in that department – so stop knocking my toe polish choices. And for those of us who are looking for some action…’ She grinned at Ellie as she pulled a bottle of glittery scarlet polish from the tray and wiggled it. ‘I can highly recommend Art of Seduction. This polish even managed to get a rise out of a man who has to get up at 4 a.m. every morning to milk a herd of cows.’

  Tess and Maddy laughed, while Ellie took a judicious sip of her champagne.

  ‘Art of Seduction?’ she said. ‘Is that supposed to be a hint?’

  Annie’s grin widened. ‘Surely I’m not the only one who noticed the little frisson between you two while he was objecting to our project last Friday.’ She shook the bottle and lifted her eyebrows. ‘What do you say? Shall we knock Mr Dalton dead?’

  ‘Unfortunately, I think it would take more than hot nail polish to knock that man dead,’ Ellie said, the mention of Art putting a dent in her euphoria. She’d been avoiding him since last Friday night, but then he’d been avoiding her right back. She’d hoped he would turn up for the meeting they’d called this evening before supper to officially launch the project, but no, he’d been absent.

  And OK, maybe there had been a slight frisson between them since she’d arrived, but she did not plan to dwell on it.

  ‘So what’s the deal between you two?’ Tess asked.

  ‘He thinks the project is going to fail,’ Ellie said, offering her glass to Maddy for a top-up, ‘but that’s absolutely fine because I am going to prove him wrong.’ And today had put her one step closer to that goal, whether he had been there to acknowledge their success or not.

  ‘There’s more to it than that,’ Tess said. ‘If it was just about the project, I don’t think he would have been so passionate about his objections. I think he said more in that meeting than he’s said all year.’

  And more later that evening than he’d probably said in an entire decade, but Ellie had decided that wasn’t significant, and she refused to let it undermine her confidence any further.

  ‘Art’s passions aren’t my concern, thank
goodness,’ she said. ‘The deal is we’ve just never got along.’

  ‘Never?’ Annie’s interest perked up as she dabbed Ellie’s big toenail with the glittery polish, having made the choice for her. ‘I wonder why? Sounds like you two have got quite a history?’

  ‘Yeah, what exactly is your history?’ Maddy said from her perch on the arm of the couch.

  ‘I told you all, our history is we spent a summer together, we didn’t get on, and then I left. That’s it,’ Ellie said, downing the rest of her champagne.

  ‘Did you ever bang each other?’ Tess asked.

  The bubbles hit Ellie’s tonsils and exploded into a coughing fit.

  Maddy thumped her back.

  ‘Jesus, Tess, no we did not,’ Ellie said, once she’d managed to draw a full breath. ‘I was only fourteen. And anyway, why would I want to bang Art? I don’t even fancy him.’ And even if that was a lie, she had exceptionally good impulse control.

  ‘Why not?’ Annie said. ‘He’s gorgeous and available and he’s a guaranteed orgasm.’

  ‘How exactly do you know that?’ It was Tess’s turn to choke on her champagne. ‘You’re a happily married woman.’

  ‘So what? I can appreciate a good-looking guy, can’t I?’ Annie said, her head bent over Ellie’s toes. ‘Don’t look so outraged,’ she added, for Tess’s benefit. ‘I only know about his orgasm prowess by proxy.’

  ‘Whose proxy?’ Maddy asked.

  ‘Daisy Mayhew. She works at the Haymaker at the bottom of Candlewick Hill part-time and dated him briefly last summer. She was very disappointed when he stopped calling her. Very disappointed.’

  ‘Why are we talking about Art?’ Ellie said. She so did not need to hear about Art’s orgasm-on-demand capabilities. She had a damn frisson to control. ‘This is supposed to be a girls’ night in, which means no man talk. It’s boring.’

  ‘What kind of tedious girls’ nights in do you go to?’ Annie said, pausing mid-brush to stare at Ellie as if she’d lost her mind. ‘Man talk is never boring – especially if it involves Aidan Turner and a scythe.’

  ‘Fine, we can talk about Poldark,’ Ellie conceded. ‘But let’s not talk about Art.’

  ‘I think the lady protesteth too much.’ Maddy misquoted Shakespeare.

  ‘I’m just not interested in talking about Art,’ Ellie said, protesting way too much. ‘Or his enormous scythe.’ But, as she said it, the memory of him lying by the millpond and chafing himself to orgasm blasted into her brain and made her cheeks go almost as scarlet as the glittery polish on her toes.

  ‘How exactly do you know his scythe is enormous? If you’ve never slept with him?’ Annie said, going all Hercule Poirot as she blew on Ellie’s toes. ‘Because that just happens to be something else Daisy mentioned. A lot.’

  Ellie put down her glass. She needed to go easy on the booze, because all three of her friends were now watching her with rapt attention. ‘Um, I may possibly have seen it once. In a nonsexual…’ she cleared her throat ‘…an almost non-sexual context.’

  ‘Almost?’ Tess said. ‘We definitely need details.’ The other two nodded.

  ‘I’m not sure I know you well enough to tell you,’ Ellie hedged.

  ‘We will be very discreet,’ Tess said, then glanced at Annie.

  ‘Well, Annie won’t be, but me and Maddy can gag her.’

  ‘Hey!’ Annie said, pausing in the toe painting to look outraged.

  Ellie laughed, and it occurred to her that she wanted to tell them. Maybe she’d only known the three of them for less than a month, but she really liked them, and it had been so long since she’d had real female friends. So long, in fact, she’d forgotten how good it felt to have women she could confide in. And, what the heck, she’d been holding on to this guilty secret for nineteen years, why not share?

  ‘OK, fine, I know all about Art’s scythe because I spied on him once by the millpond, when he was naked and very busy…’ she paused, to take a fortifying sip of bubbles ‘…doing what boys of fifteen tend to do a lot.’

  Maddy gasped, Tess snorted and Annie purred.

  ‘Wow, that is even hotter than Aidan Turner doing the bare-chested scythe boogie. I think Mr Annie is going to be whistling when he gets up to milk those cows tomorrow.’

  ‘Does Art know? That you saw him?’ Tess probed, still rapt.

  ‘Are you joking?’ Ellie said, enjoying their interest maybe more than she should. ‘He would have eviscerated me. We had this love–hate relationship going all summer… Well, more hate–hate really.’ Not unlike now. ‘But I will admit that was probably the most erotic thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’ Because just thinking about it now was making all the saliva dry up in her mouth. She took a sip of her champagne. The others looked riveted. So was she really. ‘But we never got it together… I was only fourteen and he was a complete bastard.’ Most of the time.

  ‘So now’s your chance, why not go for it?’ Maddy said, clearly drunk. Or delusional. Or both. ‘Art’s hot for an older guy.’

  Older guy? He wasn’t that old.

  ‘And a guaranteed orgasm with an enormous scythe,’ Maddy finished, proving she was definitely both drunk and delusional.

  ‘Eh, hello, he hates me, and I’m still married.’ Ellie danced her ring finger in front of the three of them Beyoncé style. Then she noticed the Hot Raspberry Wine polish, which clashed with the ring on said finger, and had a searing moment of clarity.

  After spending twelve years honouring the band of 24-carat white gold Dan had slipped on her finger in the Orchard County courthouse, for the first time ever her ring didn’t feel relevant any more. Had they ever really been married? If she was the only one of them to take their vows seriously?

  Maybe it was the wine talking, but still the realisation felt profound.

  ‘You’re getting a divorce,’ Annie said as if reading her mind. ‘Because Dan Jr was a cheating rat and is about to have a child by another woman. So I don’t think you should consider yourself that married.’

  Ellie frowned. Was Annie right?

  ‘I guess we are separated,’ she heard herself say.

  ‘Precisely, so why should you let that stop you jumping Art? It didn’t stop your husband from jumping Josh’s teacher,’ Annie said, with barefaced Northern logic.

  The others made sounds of approval.

  Ellie didn’t comment. Why had she confided in Annie and the others when she hadn’t yet told Dee about the divorce? Or Josh? She stared into her champagne flute.

  Ah yes, wines.

  Never have a mani–pedi girly night with wine, after years without decent sex and five days of intensive girl bonding over too much paperwork.

  ‘All done.’ Annie placed Ellie’s completed foot back onto the cushion she’d arranged on a footstool. ‘You’re now armed and dangerous.’ She wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously. ‘Should you decide to take Dalton down.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen,’ she said.

  Even if her marriage was over, there was still Josh to think about. Jumping Art would only confuse him. Not to mention the somewhat bigger roadblock, they didn’t actually like each other.

  But, even so, Ellie found herself admiring the glittery sparkle on her toes from the light of Annie’s living room fire as Annie cracked her fingers and announced, ‘Right, Tess, you’re next for the man killer toenail treatment.’

  *

  Ellie was still on an elderflower-and-girl-power high as she and Maddy strolled back across the fields together from Annie’s house serenaded by the scent of evening jasmine and manure and guided by the glow of a full moon. They headed towards the light in the farmhouse kitchen once they came out of the woods.

  A wave of sentiment washed over Ellie. It was past midnight, so everyone would have been in bed hours ago – the first thing she’d discovered about farm life was that it did not allow for late nights – which meant Dee had left the lights on for her tonight. It probably shouldn’t matter to her, but somehow it did.

  Maddy
giggled as they entered the farmhouse, obviously drunker than Ellie. ‘I hope Jay’s not too fast asleep yet.’

  ‘If he is, he won’t be for long,’ Ellie teased, enjoying the younger woman’s delight. ‘I’ll get the lights. See you tomorrow for the start of Phase Two.’ They were due to start clearing out the back barn tomorrow afternoon. ‘But don’t exhaust Jacob too much, we need him to move heavy machinery tomorrow.’

  Accomplishment and excitement surged through Ellie to add to the general light-headedness from their boozy evening as Maddy stumbled up the stairs.

  ‘No worries, I’ll do all the work,’ Maddy whispered, still giggling.

  OK, that was way too much information.

  Ellie opened the kitchen door, planning to hunt up some nibbles and a nightcap to give Maddy time to introduce Jacob to the delights of Spoilt Diva nail polish and then crash out, because she did not need to be hearing the two of them going for it after the discussion they’d had at Annie’s about potential hook-ups.

  She realised her mistake, though, when she entered the room and spotted Mr Guaranteed Orgasm himself hunched over a plate piled high with her mother’s moussaka.

  Their eyes met, and he swallowed.

  ‘Hi,’ she said, heat flushing through her. Bugger.

  He nodded a greeting, looking as pleased to see her as she was to see him. i.e.: not at all. His biceps bunched against the short sleeves of his T-shirt as he scooped up another enormous mouthful of moussaka. And then the significance of his presence in the kitchen at this hour dawned on her.

  For Pete’s sake, had Art been eating every night at midnight then, just to avoid seeing her at supper time?

  ‘We got the loan approved today,’ she said.

  This was bonkers. He might not like of the shop, but it was going ahead anyway. And it was going to be a huge success – at which point she would take great pleasure in telling him ‘I told you so’. But, until then, they needed to find a way to work together. Art had gone out of his way, once upon a time, to make her feel excluded, but she was going to be the bigger and better person here and include him whether he wanted to be included or not.