by Katie Fforde
She didn’t need to read it to know what it said. ‘OK. Now I know you really are Crocodile Dundee, let’s go and see Amy. I’ll just get ready.’
She wanted a moment to text Antony. She felt she needed to tell him about this invasion. He couldn’t do anything about it but she’d feel better if he knew.
‘Right,’ she said, having reappeared by the back door. ‘We should go. If we don’t get our moment right she’ll be asleep and we’ll have to do all this again tomorrow.’
‘Wouldn’t bother me. I’m not going anywhere for a while.’
How could she bear it? she thought as she locked up the house and they made their way to the car. This man was going to be living in her house and she couldn’t think of a way to get rid of him. There must be a way though. She only had to find it.
‘It’s pretty round here,’ said Roy as they drove along the lanes towards town.
‘Are you planning to settle in the area?’
‘Oh no. It’s pretty, but cramped. Couldn’t cope with the little twisty roads and the hills getting in the way of the view all the time. No, I’ll be back to Oz when I’ve made my money.’
‘You’re very certain you’ll inherit.’
‘I see that really pisses you off, but yes I am.’ Roy paused. ‘It makes perfect sense. I’ve had a good look at both family trees – that girl Megan was really helpful with that – and I’m more closely related. Not by much but the thing is, I’m a man, and someone like Amy will want a man to inherit. And secondly, I’m related to her late husband, as I said before. She’ll want the farm to go to me.’
Fran didn’t comment. She just concentrated on driving without attempting to kill him in a carefully staged crash. While part of her couldn’t believe that even Amy could be so old-fashioned, part of her could. It seemed perfectly feasible.
She heard a beeping on her phone meaning they’d got within reach of a signal. She pulled in at her usual place. ‘Excuse me. I’ve just got to see if anything urgent has cropped up. Most of my friends don’t realise they have to use the landline if they want to get me on the phone.’
There was a text from Issi indicating she’d got Fran’s frantic one. She was in town with Tig’s car, picking up something for him, and would be home as soon as she could. There was an email from her mother, which she planned to read later, and a voicemail. She listened to it. It was from the bank asking her to make an appointment to go in and see the manager.
Her heart did a somersault. Although she’d suspected there was a loan Amy hadn’t told her about she’d never found direct evidence for it, and so she’d managed to put it to the back of her mind. Well, she couldn’t go on doing that. ‘I’ll have to call in at the bank after we’ve seen Amy,’ she said, feeling sick. ‘They want to see me.’
‘Don’t you mean they want to see both of us?’
‘Listen, Roy, you haven’t been here long enough to take your coat off! I’m in charge of the farm until Amy says otherwise. Anyway, they only want me to make an appointment.’ This was something solid she could rely on: she was in charge, even if that wasn’t always a pleasant thing to be.
She put her phone in her bag and set off again.
‘So, what will you do when the farm’s sold?’ asked Roy a minute or two later. ‘Go back to London?’
‘I don’t have a crystal ball,’ Fran snapped, still rattled by the voicemail as well as Roy’s sudden appearance. ‘I can’t see that far ahead. Amy is in very good health. She could go on for years yet.’
‘She’s in a care home. There’s a statistic about how long people live when they’ve moved into care.’
‘Amy wouldn’t hold with statistics. You’ll understand that when you meet her.’
They’d timed it right. Amy was in good spirits and when Fran introduced Roy, sat up straighter and inspected him.
‘Why didn’t you answer my letter when I wrote first?’ she asked, without bothering to say hello.
Roy smiled, and managed to make it very charming, Fran noticed, while she fussed around checking Amy had everything she needed. Roy pulled up a chair and sat down.
‘I didn’t get it originally, Great-Aunt Amy,’ he said. ‘When I found it and realised what it said, I was devastated and rushed over here straightaway. I was lucky, I got a good flight and it only took me twenty-four hours.’
Fran knew he was lying about not getting the letter but she could hardly say so. She had no evidence.
‘I was made up when I heard about you and the farm,’ Roy went on. ‘I’ve been a farmer all my life so I know how important it is to keep the bloodlines going.’ He smiled again. ‘In people as well as in cattle.’
Amy almost smiled. ‘Tell me about your farm in Australia. How did you manage to come away at such short notice?’
‘I farm with my dad and we have a couple of men helping us. It’s a big farm but we manage to keep it all going with just the four of us.’
Fran had to give Roy credit. He told a very appealing tale of how his father had built up the farm from nothing, working from dawn to dusk. He painted a picture of how beautiful the Outback was until even Fran wanted to jump on a plane and go there, just to listen to the kookaburra and see kangaroos bouncing over the plane. Her knowledge of Australia was extremely sketchy but she supposed what he was telling them was feasible.
Amy, possibly less gullible, said, ‘You wouldn’t want to come here and farm then, if your family has worked so hard to build up that big farm from just a few acres.’
Roy appeared prepared for this. ‘I have a younger brother. He’d love to take over from Dad when the time came.’
Amy frowned. ‘When I was looking you up I don’t remember a brother.’
‘He’s my half-brother. He’s like a proper younger brother to me.’
He went on about how much he’d appreciate carrying on from such a proud dynasty of farmers and making the farm profitable and safe for the future until Amy stopped him.
‘How nice,’ she said, and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again after a few seconds, she said to Fran, ‘Is that friend of yours still staying at the farm?’
‘Yes she is.’
‘Good. Otherwise it wouldn’t be right for Roy to stay there too.’
‘Fran might have to move out,’ said Roy.
‘Francesca is looking after the farm,’ said Amy firmly.
‘But I could do that – piece o’ cake! Little place like that, after the acreage I’m used to.’
Amy frowned as if she didn’t quite understand what Roy was saying. ‘Francesca is in charge of the farm,’ she repeated.
Fran ended the visit quite soon after this as Amy obviously wanted her nap. But she could see Amy was also animated. She’d enjoyed Roy’s visit, and Roy had come across as a dedicated farmer who would put his heart and soul into Hill Top.
‘Now I have things to do. Why don’t you have a look round the town a bit?’ She was half expecting him to insist on coming to make an appointment at the bank with her, but she was not having that.
‘Can you show me to the nearest pub that’ll have Sky? I’m a big sports fan and I’m guessing you don’t have Sky up there at the farm.’
‘You guessed right! I don’t know much about the pubs but there’s one there. You could ask them. I’ll meet you there after I’ve had my appointment.’
‘Great. There’s a match I want to see tonight.’
‘You don’t seem to be suffering from jet lag,’ said Fran, reluctantly impressed. ‘I’d want an early night if I’d flown halfway round the world.’
‘You’re only a girl, you don’t have the stamina blokes have.’
She made a face at him and set off for the bank. She may be ‘only a girl’ but he would find out what she was made of soon enough!
Chapter Twelve
It was a relief to spot Tig’s car and to see Issi coming out of the house to welcome them.
‘You must be Roy,’ said Issi, holding out her hand. Her smile was a little grim. Fran
had packed a lot into her panicky texts. ‘Good to meet you.’
‘Good to meet you too,’ said Roy, clasping Issi’s hand with a friendly leer. ‘I gather you’re living here with Fran to keep her company?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And now you’re my chaperone!’ said Fran gaily, hoping her desperation wasn’t audible. ‘Amy checked you were still here. Otherwise Roy would have to live somewhere else.’
‘To be honest, ladies,’ said Roy, sounding reasonable, ‘we can do what we like up here. She’s never going to know. You can move back to London, Fran, leave everything to me.’ He grinned. ‘Just like the old lady’s going to.’
Issi bristled, but Fran raised a hand. ‘Let’s go in the house. I’m desperate for a cup of tea. And, Roy, make no mistake, nothing happens on this farm that Amy doesn’t find out about. You either live here with us both, or you go elsewhere. We’re staying put.’
‘Fair enough. Don’t blame you for fighting as long as you know who’s going to win. Now, have your cup of tea and then give me a guided tour.’
He insisted on being shown everything, and commented on everything, from the ancient shelter on the hill (‘Nice roof tiles on there. Bet you’d get a few bob for them. I’ll find out how much they’re worth’) to the new cheese room (‘Bet this cost a pretty penny. How’d did you finance that? I know it wasn’t the old lady.’) By the time Fran steered Roy back to the house, having heard him put a price on everything, she needed more than tea. Luckily Issi had a meal on the go and a bottle of wine open.
After supper, when they were clearing up and Roy had gone off to the pub to watch the match (what kind of match they hadn’t quite grasped and didn’t want to ask), they discussed him.
‘I’ve worked with and known loads of Australians,’ said Fran, scraping the crispy bit from around the cottage-pie dish. ‘And they’ve all been great. Hard-working, great sense of humour, generally terrific. Why can’t he be like them?’
‘Well, to be fair, and I do hate to do that in this instance,’ said Issi, ‘but he may be hard-working. He may have a sense of humour. We just hate him because he’s here, threatening to take all this’ – Issi gestured – ‘from you.’
‘Hate is a strong word.’
‘Yup!’ Issi agreed. ‘And I hate him too, because if he’s a bastard and sells the farm as building land as you said he told you he would, what’ll happen to Tig’s job? His home? It wouldn’t just be you going back to London, it would be me and Tig, too. And I don’t think he’d transplant.’
Fran put the kettle on, more from habit than anything. ‘In some ways you’re in a worse situation than I am.’
‘It’s Tig I’m worried about. He loves this land as much as Amy does.’
‘So do I,’ said Fran. ‘Oh God!’
‘More tea. In front of the fire. You go through. I’ll bring it.’
‘And if all that isn’t enough,’ said Fran, having sipped the tea, ‘the bank want to see me. It’ll be about Amy’s loan. When I came everything was supposed to be OK for six months, but I think she forgot about the loan when she arranged everything.’
‘Oh, Fran! When are you going in?’
‘I’ve got an appointment in a week’s time. I wish I could have seen him today but it’s a small branch; the managers don’t visit often.’
‘Well,’ said Issi, ‘plenty of time to earn a bit of money by then. We could do another supper club, or even open a pop-up restaurant in the barn!’
Fran had to laugh. The barn was made of corrugated iron, open to the elements on two sides, and full of machinery. ‘Get that organised in a week? Easy-peasy!’
The following week, Fran noticed Antony in the car park while she was getting her ticket before her meeting with the bank. To her delight, he came up to her.
‘Hey!’ he said. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Nothing nice. The bank have summoned me. That’s never good news, is it?’
‘Probably not.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Have you any idea what it’s about? Are you in a hurry, by the way? Time for a coffee?’
The best coffee shop in town was a step away. ‘Well, I have actually. I escaped early so Roy wouldn’t notice I was going.’
‘Come on then.’
They found a table and ordered drinks. As it was early, they came quickly and soon Fran was drawing patterns in the foam on her cappuccino. She wished she could just enjoy being with him while not surrounded by people, and didn’t have the meeting of the bank hanging over her.
‘So,’ said Antony, putting down his espresso having taken a sip. ‘How’s it going with Roy?’
‘Actually, awful. He’s vile. And now I’ve got this meeting.’
‘Do you know anything about it?’
‘I can guess. When I first arrived here it was implied that all the financial stuff was sorted. But it wasn’t. I discovered there’s a loan from the bank which I think Amy must have forgotten about.’
‘Is it due to be paid back?’
‘No, but they are due a payment.’
‘Are you in a position to make one?’
She looked at him. ‘Of course not. Well – I doubt it. I don’t know how much—’
‘Would you like me to—’
‘No! Absolutely not. I owe you far too much anyway.’
He smiled at her outrage. ‘I wasn’t offering to lend you money. I was going to offer to come into the bank with you.’
‘How would that help?’
‘It’ll make the manager or whoever you’re seeing think you’re not just a girl down from London who doesn’t know anything about farming, let alone how to raise enough money to service their loan.’
‘Oh God, he will think that about me, won’t he?’
Antony nodded. ‘So what had you planned to tell him?’
‘I’m going to tell him how amazing the cheese I’m making is going to be and for what a lot of money I’m going to sell it for. I hope if I’m convincing he’ll let me extend the loan.’
‘On cheese?’
‘Erica said the other day that she thinks our milk could make a really good hard cheese, which I realise is long term – up to a year even – but until then I’ll have the soft cheeses, and I’ll do more supper clubs.’
‘So what will you say when he asks what you’ll do when the cows are dried off?’
Fran bit her lip. ‘You know, I’m kind of hoping he won’t know that cows do dry up.’
He laughed, softening his naturally rather severe expression. Fran couldn’t help thinking how very attractive it made him. ‘I think there’s a good chance he won’t! But please let me come in with you.’
‘You must have been going to do something or you wouldn’t have been in town. I don’t want to take up your time.’
‘Nothing I can’t do another time.’
‘Why do you keep saving me, Antony?’ It was something Fran had often wondered about but it was only now, in these slightly strange circumstances, that she felt able to ask him.
He raised his eyebrow. ‘I’m looking after my future interests, of course.’
She tutted and sighed. ‘Honestly! You and Roy, both after something you don’t deserve and aren’t going to get. Although I’d rather you had it than Roy, any time.’ She paused and looked up at the man beside her. He was wearing a suit, although not a tie, and seemed perfectly comfortable in this somewhat formal clothing. She thought maybe she shouldn’t have said that last bit out loud. ‘Come on then. It’s time we went in.’
Fran was glad she had Antony with her. The man they were ushered in to see did not look friendly. He was young, probably highly qualified, and low on people skills. He frowned when he saw Antony.
‘I’m Jeffery Partland, and here to see Miss Duke? Are you her partner?’
‘In a manner of speaking,’ said Antony with quiet authority. ‘I sometimes advise Miss Duke on business matters, but not in a formal way.’ He smiled and sat down.
Apparently content with this, Mr Partl
and turned to Fran, who hastily sat down too. ‘So, Miss Duke, you’re here on behalf of Mrs Flowers?’
‘Yes. She’s in a care home.’
‘And you’ve taken over her farm?’
‘For the time being, yes.’
‘What do you mean? Is Mrs Flowers going to go back to the farm?’
‘No, not from her care home. She’s quite elderly. I’m a – relation – and she said if I could run the farm for a year she might leave it to me in her will.’
Mr Partland raised an eyebrow. ‘Lucky you.’
Something in the way he said this seemed to emphasise that it wasn’t a very secure arrangement, either for her or the farm. But she had given up her life in London for a farm she may not inherit. She must have been mad.
‘Yes, lucky me.’
Mr Partland looked down at his papers. ‘So, this loan. Mrs Flowers took it out, putting the farm up as security. The next payment is due now. Can you let me know when we can expect payment, bearing in mind the longer you leave it the greater the interest?’
‘How much do I owe?’
‘Don’t you know?’ He looked down at the papers to check. ‘Eight hundred pounds.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Fran before she could stop herself.
‘How many more payments are due?’ asked Antony, who also seemed alarmed.
‘Currently there are ten payments of eight hundred pounds due.’
‘Can I renegotiate the loan?’ asked Fran. ‘Make the terms a bit easier?’
‘Are you going to find it difficult to pay the eight hundred?’ Mr Partland asked.
‘Yes, very difficult!’
He frowned. ‘It appears that this loan shouldn’t have been granted in the first place. Obviously I had nothing to do with that.’
‘Nor had I,’ said Fran, ‘but as we’re both stuck with it, maybe we could make it possible to schedule the payments over a longer term.’
‘So you could make lower payments, less than eight hundred pounds?’