Kitty's Countryside Dream

by Christie Barlow

  ‘Egg production varies from breed to breed, or flavour to flavour in your case.’ She winked. ‘All the chickens living on the farm are free-range and each field is divided into sections. We tend to keep the birds that can offer a more prolific return; Rhode Island Red, New Hampshire Red and the Sussex are all breeds that are fantastic, reliable layers.’

  My face must have said it all; Jeannie was talking a completely different language to me.

  ‘Don’t look so worried – you’ll soon get the hang of it all. Each morning we collect the eggs from the coops. We work a section at a time, taking care not to mix up the eggs. We collect the eggs in those wire baskets hanging up over there,’ she said, pointing to the far end of the barn, where there were numerous large blue wire baskets hanging from the wall. ‘Once your section has been collected, you bring those eggs back here and place them on the correct table. So, for example, if you’ve collected the eggs from the Rhode Island Reds, take the eggs over to this table and separate them into medium and large and place them on the trays, labelling them with today’s date. Then move onto the next section and so on.’

  ‘Gosh, it’s like a military operation. I have no idea what a Rhode Island thingy even looks like, except it will have a beak and cluck. You’ve learnt your stuff quickly, Jeannie,’ I joked.

  ‘I’ve got a brother and we were brought up on a farm, so it’s in my blood. At the age of three I bonded with my first pet chicken, Delilah. She clucked around after me all day long. I’m an outdoors kind of a girl; I’d rather be getting my hands mucky than working in a stifling office shuffling paper with the suits.’

  ‘How are you pair getting on?’ Tom asked, popping his head round the door.

  ‘Yes, all OK, we’re just chatting about the early-morning starts and the weekly rota for egg collection.’

  ‘Did you mention whoever is on the early-morning shift finishes their day at 3 p.m. and the rest of us take care of the locking up of chickens in their houses at night?’

  ‘Chickens have houses?’ I began to chuckle, imagining all of the chickens lying down in their beds and switching off their lights.

  ‘Yes, the two most basic requirements for our birds is space and shelter. They need to roost at night, both for their own comfort, away from the wind and rain, and to protect them from predators, which is usually the fox.

  ‘Anyway, after lunch I’ll give you a full tour of the farm, but for now I think we can safely declare it’s lunchtime.’

  ‘Yay, I’m famished,’ shouted Jeannie.

  ‘Here, Kit, catch.’

  Looking up, I saw some foil-wrapped sandwiches flying through the air in my direction, thrown by Tom.

  ‘I mentioned to Lucinda your unfortunate introduction to Paddy and your lack of lunch and she’s very kindly given you her sandwich. She’ll grab something from the bakery when she finishes her rounds.’

  ‘Oh, how very kind and thoughtful, thank you very much,’ I said, relieved, hearing my stomach gurgle with hunger.

  ‘OK, I’m off back to the cottage. I’ll see you on the bench in an hour.’ And with that he strode away and was gone.

  Unfolding the foil from my sandwiches, I could feel Jeannie’s eyes on me.

  ‘What?’ I smiled.

  ‘Cock-a-hoop, nicknames already, Kit, and it’s only the first morning. Something tells me you pair are going to get on just fine,’ Jeannie joked.

  ‘Shush, stop teasing.’ I smiled but could feel myself blushing. I’d immediately noticed that Tom had shortened my name to Kit, and to be honest, I think I quite liked it.

  Chapter Seven

  Soon after we finished our lunch, the sky began to darken and within no time at all the heavens opened. It began to bucket down with heavy rainfall. Sheltering under the jutted-out roof of the office, Jeannie and I stood with our backs to the wall, trying to shield ourselves from the rain while we waited for Tom to reappear after lunch.

  ‘Those ballet shoes would have been ruined in no time in this weather.’

  ‘How did you know my shoe size for the wellington boots?’ I asked, intrigued.

  ‘That would be a very good guess on my part. Many moons ago I worked a Saturday job in the local shoe shop. I could spot a pair of size-six feet anywhere – oh and the fact you looked about the same size as me, so I brought you a pair from home.’ She grinned.

  We heard the door of the cottage slam and saw Tom hurrying over towards us. Pulling his raincoat over his head, he was trying to keep the drenching to a minimum whilst splashing through the puddles that had quickly appeared on the ground.

  ‘OK, which one of you pair has been singing this lunchtime?’

  ‘Ha ha, not me, I’m tone-deaf and I wouldn’t subject anyone to my appalling voice, not even myself,’ I replied.

  ‘Must be you then, Jeannie,’ he said, laughing.

  Just at that moment, we saw a flash of lightning strike across the dense black clouds, and we all froze to the spot. A boom rolled out across the valley and the trees began to sway in the strengthening gust. The rain became even heavier, sounding like bullets firing onto the roofs of the barns. Another jagged bolt of white split across the sky again; this time the clap of thunder was only a few seconds behind.

  ‘Jeannie, can you return to barn two and start preparing the egg orders that are due for delivery in the morning and remember to take the trays from the back. The orders for tomorrow are pinned on the main board in the office. Also, separate any eggs that are over three days old, pile them up and I can take them to market.’

  ‘No problem.’ Jeannie was off straightaway, making a run for barn two.

  ‘You come with me, Kit.’

  There he was calling me Kit again. My heart began to flutter and my cheeks flushed instantly. Hoping it wasn’t obvious, I enquired what our mission was for this afternoon.

  ‘Mission Conker.’

  ‘Mission Conker, what does that entail?’

  ‘We’re going to run in the rain and rescue Conker from the field. He’s aging fast now, and even though he’s a hardy Shetland, I removed his rug yesterday, and I don’t like the thought of him enduring these weather conditions. He’ll be getting drenched in this downpour. We can stable him until the storm passes over. Are you ready to make a run for it?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  Tom took off up the yard but not before grabbing my hand, his firm grip pulling my flailing legs behind him. Halfway up the path it separated into two. I could make out a black shadow sheltering under the skeleton-like branches of an old oak tree in the field to the right of the path.

  The huge drops of water were attacking my body and my clothes were sodden. Focussing on the stable ahead, my wellingtons pounded heavily across the ground, causing the mud to splash up the legs of my overalls. Almost instantly the torrential rain turned the ground to mud, making it slippery, but Tom kept a strong hold of my hand to stop me from sliding.

  Finally arriving at the wooden stable, Tom let go of my hand and unbolted the door. Hanging from the hooks inside the stable were all types of pony paraphernalia: a head collar, reins and a saddle. He grabbed the head collar just as another clap of thunder sounded. I squealed, clutching Tom in panic. He smiled down at me, holding my gaze for a split second. All of a sudden I felt very coy, until I looked away.

  ‘Gosh, that was a loud clatter. It’ll pass shortly,’ Tom said and he headed off straightaway.

  I watched Tom stride into the field and lead Conker out of the storm; they began trotting towards me into the warm stable.

  ‘Conker, meet Kitty. Kitty, meet Conker,’ Tom said as he swept his wet fringe out of his eyes. ‘He’ll be safe in here now until the storm passes over. There are blue skies creeping through over there.’

  The wet Shetland nuzzled my hand before turning his attention to the hay hanging from the net.

  The rain was slowing down and the sun was definitely trying to creep through. I was feeling very unattractive. My hair was limp, my clothes were soaki
ng and this was the first time I had ever had the unfortunate pleasure of wringing-wet feet squelching around inside wellington boots.

  Out of the blue Tom slung his arm around my shoulder. ‘Well this is an unsuccessful first day. Let’s make our way back to the office and grab a hot drink. We can dry off and then head over to Jeannie to see how she’s coping with tomorrow’s orders,’ Tom suggested, guiding me back towards the office.

  When we reached the office, the kettle was already boiling and Jeannie was whirling around on the chair. ‘Tea is nearly ready,’ she called as we entered through the door. ‘You pair look a little wet. There are a couple of towels hanging on the back of the door if you need to dry off,’ she continued, nodding in the direction of the door.

  Placing my boot in the jack, I pulled it off and tipped it upside down.

  ‘There’s enough water in there to fill a small fish tank.’

  Jeannie, who was now off the chair pouring us both a mug of tea, smirked.

  ‘There weren’t many orders today and all are completed. The eggs to be taken to market I’ve put on the wooden table at the back of the barn, labelled up, and I’ve locked the barn. If it’s OK with you pair, it’s fast approaching 3 p.m. so I’ll be off.’

  ‘Yes, of course, see you in the morning.’

  ‘Fabulous, see you then, and I hope you’ve enjoyed your first day, Kit,’ she said, throwing me a wink whilst Tom was spooning sugar into his tea, and with that she disappeared through the office door.

  Soaked to the skin, I slipped my arms out of my overalls and tied the sleeves around my waist to stop the trousers from falling down. Underneath I was still wearing my cashmere jumper, a jumper which I was very fond of, and there was no way I was risking hanging it on my peg in the storeroom with Paddy the rooster still strutting around in there.

  ‘Tom, is it possible I could have an early dart too?’

  ‘Now you’re taking liberties; you’ve been here two minutes and you’re already asking for time off,’ he teased.

  ‘Yes, I know, it’s just I’m expecting the removal van to arrive in the next couple of hours. I’ve left all the furniture in the house I sold, but they’re bringing my clothes and personal items.’

  ‘Yes, of course you can.’

  ‘Great, thanks.’

  ‘Dare I ask, have you enjoyed your first day?’ Tom enquired.

  ‘It wasn’t what I was expecting – my dreams of running an office empire dashed, my lunch devoured by a rooster, not to mention dancing in the rain, or more like being dragged along by my wellies to keep me from falling.’

  Tom started clapping. ‘A huge round of applause for Kitty – she’s survived her first day.’

  Putting one foot in front of the other, I pretended to hold my make-believe skirt as I bent my knees to curtsy.

  ‘Aha, but the question is will you be back tomorrow?’

  ‘Go on then, if I must,’ I teased.

  ‘I’ll take that as a complete success then,’ Tom said, beaming. ‘You may as well get off. Finish your drink first though. I’ve just got to sort out the order for market tomorrow and I’ll lock up the pens later on.’

  ‘There seems to be an awful lot of manual work for just three of us,’ I mentioned.

  ‘Usually around March, when springtime is approaching, we have a number of temporary farmhands that come on board for a few months. It’s easier if they’re on short-term contracts, and it makes the summer months a little easier because that’s when egg production is at its maximum.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Tom, on a serious note, and if I’m truly honest, I feel a little overwhelmed by it all. OK, I have inherited this place, but can we keep things the way they are for the near future?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tom answered.

  ‘Would you consider still being the boss and the manager? I’d feel more comfortable until I find my feet.’

  ‘Of course, Kitty, whenever you’re ready – it would be a pleasure. This farm is in my blood and I’m going nowhere fast.’ Tom smiled.

  ‘Thanks, Tom.’

  Despite everything that had gone wrong, I’d thoroughly enjoyed the madness of the day. It had made a change from the lonely existence I’d been leading until now. I felt I was going to like this chicken lark.

  Finishing my tea, I headed out the door.

  ‘See you tomorrow.’

  Grabbing my bike from underneath the shelter, I swung my leg over the frame and began to pedal down the driveway.

  ‘The combination to the padlock is 1507,’ Tom shouted after me. ‘Please will you lock the gate on your way out. It’ll save me wandering down later.’

  ‘Will do,’ I shouted back, waving a hand above my head.

  Well, I wouldn’t be forgetting that number in a hurry, I thought – that’s my birthday, 15 July.

  Chapter Eight

  Alfie was sitting on the front doorstep waiting for me to arrive home. I dismounted and bumped the bike up the steps towards him. He was up on his feet, arching his back. Raising a smile, I squatted beside him and stroked his furry body whilst he purred happily. His presence was reassuring and heart-warming.

  The removal men were already parked up outside the flat and they jumped out of their van as soon as they spotted me opening the door. Within no time at all they had stacked my worldly possessions in the living room and driven off.

  For the next couple of hours while I unpacked the boxes, thoughts of Tom kept creeping into my mind. Feeling fuzzy and warm inside, I whistled to myself as I entered the bathroom and let the water from the taps rush into the bath, swirling the luxury bubble bath into a mass of foam.

  I was beginning to feel a little peckish. Teatimes were never adventurous since Mum had died; I barely ever prepared or cooked a meal, unless you counted peeling back the plastic covering on a ready meal for one and placing the white tray on the piping-hot middle shelf of the oven. Tonight was no different; I had mushroom stroganoff to look forward to.

  Pouring myself a glass of cool, crisp Pinot from the fridge, I took a sip. Feeling the warm rush of alcohol run through my veins, I relaxed instantly. For the first time in a long time I felt a sense of happiness.

  Sinking into the soothing warm waters of the bath, the bubbles glistened in the darkened room from the candles I had lit. I began to feel warm again but felt a sudden tiredness wash over me. Laying my head back, I lapped the water over my body and the scent from the candles began to fill the room. The fragrance of lavender made for the most magnificent peaceful aroma. Closing my eyes, the sound of silence surrounded me.

  I must have drifted off for a moment and was suddenly awoken by a soft tapping sound. The water had become rapidly cooler. Reaching for my towel, I dried myself and snuggled deep inside my warm dressing gown, lifting the lapels around my ears. Rubbing my hair dry, there it was again: tap, tap, tap.

  Who would that be knocking on my front door?

  Pulling my dressing gown tighter around my body, I headed for the front door and held on to the lock. Clearing my throat, I said, ‘Hello, who’s there?’

  ‘Hi, sorry to bother you, Kitty, it’s only Tom,’ came the voice from the other side of the door.

  My breath caught in my throat; what was Tom doing here?

  Opening the door, he was indeed standing on the other side, showered, shaved and dressed in a shirt, with an open top button that revealed a smidgen of chest hair. The scent from his aftershave wafted in my direction. I inhaled and it was more desirable than the farmyard eau de toilette he’d been wearing earlier.

  ‘Good evening. Oh, I’m sorry, did I get you out of the bath?’

  I knew I was flushed, bright red to be more precise, and not just from the steamy bathwater. I wanted to come up with a witty reply but all I could manage was, ‘Hi, I wasn’t expecting you. How did you find me?’

  I was standing on the doorstep dressed in a fluffy pink dressing gown, still resembling a drowned rat. I felt nervous and completely tongue-tied.

  Tom wa
s grinning. ‘Mother Goose’s old place.’

  ‘Oh, yes, silly me, I was just taken by surprise.’

  Just then a white van drove past and beeped its horn. We both looked up to see Lucinda waving frantically at us; she must have been finishing her rounds for the day. Tom raised his hand and saluted in her direction. Marvellous – this would set tongues wagging. Tom dressed up to the nines and me, well, wearing next to nothing, standing on the doorstep.

  ‘Why are you here?’ I quizzed.

  ‘Because I don’t have your phone number and it’s a six o’clock start in the morning. I’ll pick you up, be ready.’

  ‘Six o’clock start, why so early?’

  ‘We are off to market.’

  ‘Market? What are we selling, cows in exchange for magic beans?’ I queried, smirking.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘OK, I’m game.’

  ‘Be ready. And Kitty?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Make sure you’re wearing overalls and wellies.’ He winked and his blue eyes sparkled teasingly. I playfully went to shoo him away. Rolling his sleeves up, he brushed his hand against my arm.

  ‘See you bright and early.’

  ‘I’ll see you in the morning, cheeky.’ I smiled, shutting the front door behind me. My skin tingled; I’d never experienced a feeling like that before. Hearing a constant thud, I realised I was listening to my own heart beating. There was only one thing for it – after throwing my wet overalls on top of the radiator to dry out, I headed straight for the fridge. Reaching for the wine bottle I poured another glass of Pinot to steady my nerves.

  Chapter Nine

  I was exhausted when the 5.30 a.m. alarm sounded; snuggling deeper into my duvet, I willed the constant beeping to disappear. Who would actually choose to surface at this ungodly hour? It felt like the middle of the night to me.