Coming Home To Holly Close Farm

by Julie Houston

  ‘Look, I’m not planning staying up here much longer than a week,’ I said. ‘Pass me that coffee jar, would you – I do drink this stuff when I have to. I don’t want to be back in Midhope, I want to be back in London. Dominic might—’

  ‘Dominic might what?’ Daisy raised an eyebrow. ‘Dominic might tell you he’s left his wife and kids and he’s coming back to live with you? In what? A bedsit? He won’t have his wife’s flat in which to carry on his extra-marital affairs any longer.’ She looked at me in disgust. ‘Get real, Charlie, for heaven’s sake. Have a bit of pride.’

  ‘I was going to say Dominic might give me my job back. Once all the furore has died down.’

  ‘No, he won’t, you daft bint. You said his wife and her father are the major shareholders of Abraham Developments.’

  ‘She could have been lying.’ I was grasping at straws, wishing I’d not told Mum and Daisy what his wife had almost laughed into my face. ‘You know, just saying that so I wouldn’t turn up for work again.’ I trailed off as Daisy tutted, sat down at her laptop at the kitchen table, where she’d been working earlier, and tapped away in silence before folding her arms and concentrating on the screen in front of her.

  ‘OK? Will that do you?’ Daisy turned her laptop towards me.

  Companies House

  Abraham Developments:

  Primary business: Architectural and Property Development

  Company directors: Michael Pennington, Arabella Pennington-Abraham, Dominic Abraham

  ‘Well, at least I know her name now,’ I snapped. ‘She had to be Arabella Double-Barrelled, didn’t she? Not simple Vera Higginbotham or… or Hilda Smith… or…’ I tailed off, defeated.

  ‘Annette Curtain?’ Daisy ventured. ‘Carrie Oakey?’

  ‘Heidi Clare?’

  ‘Barbara Seville?’

  We both started giggling. ‘Do you know,’ I chortled, ‘there was actually a girl on my course called Fonda Dicks?’

  ‘No. Oh my goodness, the poor thing.’ Daisy stopped laughing, horrified, and then we both started again. I’d forgotten how much Daisy and I used to giggle. It used to drive Dad mad, especially if we were in the back seat of his car and he was driving. ‘There, you see,’ Daisy said comfortably. ‘Stick with me, kiddo, and we’ll have a great time. Come on, at least show me Granny Madge’s house. I’m dying to see it.’

  *

  An hour later, Daisy and I were following the same wooded path Madge had taken me down the previous morning. It had taken me a while to find the overgrown opening and we’d driven backwards and forwards across the same bit of road until I spotted the virtually concealed entrance to the lane.

  ‘Down here?’ Daisy asked dubiously. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I told you it was secluded,’ I said. ‘Tell you what, close your eyes until we drive round the bend and first see the house. Go on,’ I urged, ‘close them.’ I suddenly felt ridiculously proud of the place and wanted Daisy to be as transfixed as I’d been the day before…

  ‘No way.’ Daisy opened her eyes and stared as I braked and pulled into the side of the lane in order to see Holly Close Farm from its best vantage point. ‘And this is all Granny Madge’s?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘But why hasn’t Madge ever said anything? Even to Mum?’

  I shrugged. ‘Granny Nancy lived here as a little girl and Madge and Nancy left when Great-grandpa Arthur died in 1953, I think Mum said.’

  ‘And it’s just been left like this for…’ Daisy did her maths ‘… sixty-five years? That’s ridiculous. Madge could have sold it years ago and done up her bungalow and gone on cruises and things.’

  ‘That’s the point. Madge’s never wanted to go on big holidays or have lots of material things, but she knew Granny Nancy, if she ever got her hands on the place, would flog it all for development and buy as many designer clothes as she could fit in her wardrobe. You know what’s she’s like.’

  I started the car once more and we drove down the lane, pulling up in the same place Madge and I had parked the day before. It was sunny but frosty and Daisy and I put on hats, scarves and gloves before taking the plunge from the warmth of the heated car seats into the cold morning air. ‘It is definitely colder up here in the Frozen North,’ I grumbled, wishing I’d put on my Uggs rather than my work boots.

  ‘Yes, but could you ever get a glorious view like this in London?’ Daisy had almost run over to the remaining bits of the rotten wooden fence that separated the actual garden from the land belonging to Holly Close Farm in the valley below. ‘Oh my God, Charlie. I never, for one minute, imagined this. And you are even considering missing the opportunity to do up this place to go back to… what? A tiny shared flat with people who’ll nick your milk from the fridge and leave dripping pants in the bathroom? Sending countless CV and application forms off to property development companies to try and get yourself back on the ladder?’

  I didn’t say anything but as Daisy set off down the gardens and paddocks, stopping occasionally to examine the remains of various plants or stroke the trunks of trees and the black, spiny hawthorn and already bare branches of blackthorn, I retraced the path I’d taken the previous day, climbing still fairly solid, but rusting, drainpipes in order to peer in through the gaping black mouths of windows, their glass long since a victim to vandals and weather.

  Could I do this? Could I move back home, live with Mum, Dad, Daisy and the dog, not to mention Vivienne, who seemed to have her feet neatly under the table for the duration? Was I up to such a mammoth project as this? I’d be my own boss, not able to run for advice to Dominic, who might be an out-and-out philandering bastard but, I would be the first to concede, was a brilliant architect and developer? I stroked the creamily mellow stonework of the house in much the same way Daisy was touching the various leaves and winter-flowering shrubs in her path and felt a stirring of excitement. Daisy was right. I’d lived in London, loved the fast pace of living, the bars, the clubs, the big red buses – there are big red buses here in Midhope, you daft thing – but what would I be going back to? Dominic and my work had been the total focus of my life down there. I couldn’t have Dominic back, it seemed, but I would still have my work if I moved back north. And what work! Once I was back on my feet, I wouldn’t actually need to live at home. Renting a place here had to be much cheaper than London. I might even be able to buy somewhere – get myself on the property ladder. Temporarily, of course. Just for the time it would take to do up Holly Close Farm. I couldn’t envisage my moving back here permanently.

  ‘Charlie. Charl-ee.’ Daisy, shouting and waving her hands, brought me back to the present. I jumped down from the drainpipe and it shook ominously, sending a shower of rusting paint to the flagstones below. Hmm, not so solid, then. I took a couple of steps back, looking skywards to where the drainpipe was clinging precariously to the wall, noted the dangerously listing chimney pot and realised the whole place was probably a death-trap. First thing I’d need was my hard hat. ‘Charlie, come and look at this.’ Daisy was almost jumping up and down in her excitement.

  ‘Be careful what you’re doing, Daisy. We really shouldn’t be here without protective work gear.’ I looked down at my steel-capped work boots, grateful now that I’d donned them almost automatically, as I did virtually every morning in London, before setting off. ‘What have you found?’

  ‘Come on, down here.’ Daisy led the way down another overgrown path until the roof of another building hove into view. The stone tiles were long since gone, leaving a skeleton roof, its bones blackened timbers that, although laid bare to the elements, looked solid enough.

  ‘What is it? A shed of some sort?’ I climbed down through the overgrown bushes and trees and joined Daisy, who was almost jumping up and down in her excitement.

  ‘A cottage,’ Daisy said, eyes saucers. ‘The most beautiful romantic cottage, sitting bang in the middle of the view.’

  ‘The remains of a cottage,’ I frowned. ‘I wonder who it belongs to. My God, you’re right
. What a position. I wonder why no one has ever developed it?’

  ‘I would think because it’s part of the estate.’

  ‘Really?’ I said doubtfully. ‘Madge never mentioned it yesterday. She didn’t even bring me down here.’

  ‘It’s well within the boundary of Madge’s land. Look, you can see where the perimeter fence is – well, what’s left of it. And look,’ Daisy went on, excitedly, ‘it has its own garden. A real cottage garden.’ She bent down, crushing something between her gloved fingers and sniffing. ‘Lavender.’ She bent again. ‘Sage and thyme. See? Totally run wild now but I bet this was a beautiful place years ago. It’s even more south-facing than the main house.’

  The cottage was built of the same mellow stone as the farmhouse, but considerably smaller. ‘Give me a leg up, Daisy,’ I said, Daisy’s excitement becoming infectious. ‘I want to see inside.’ She bent down, made a sling with her hands and I hauled myself up to look through the first of the three downstairs windows.

  ‘Bloody hell, Charlie, you weigh a ton. I can’t hold you up much longer. What is there? Come on, you’re breaking my back.’ Daisy’s muffled voice came from below me. She suddenly collapsed and we both tumbled to the ground. ‘Weight Watchers for you,’ she said crossly as we brushed ourselves off.

  ‘It’s just perfect,’ I gasped. ‘There’s room for a huge kitchen… and I’d put French windows from it, right out into this herb garden.’ I ran round the side of the cottage, stumbling through dead undergrowth and ancient thorny rose bushes. ‘And look,’ I shouted back over my shoulder to Daisy, who was still on the ground rubbing the small of her back, ‘look, it’s really quite deep: plenty of room for a sitting room, study and snug.’ I was already mentally drawing up plans for its renovation.

  ‘There’s someone here.’ Daisy, now upright and attempting to walk through the overgrown bracken and bushes that had greedily consumed what had once been the cottage garden, stopped and shaded her eyes against the low winter sunlight towards the lane we’d just come down. ‘In a car.’ I jumped down from the rotting window ledge and made my way back to her.

  ‘I think it’s the girl that wants the house,’ Daisy said. ‘What was she called, you know, the girl that was at Almost Heaven on Saturday?’

  ‘Almast Haven,’ I giggled. ‘Yes, it is. Liberty.’

  The girl, wrapped up against the cold in a long blond shearling coat that matched her hair, and a man walked towards us. ‘We saw your car…’ she smiled as soon as we were in hailing distance. She trailed off, seemingly not knowing what to say next. ‘This is Seb, my partner,’ she finally said, almost shyly. ‘Lysander’s father.’ I glanced over at Daisy, knowing exactly what she was thinking. There was only one word for Seb: devastating, and I could feel Daisy almost wilting under his gaze. He was, I guessed, probably in his late twenties – but Libby was younger.

  From beneath his flat cap, dark, almost black, hair curled into his huge brown eyes. He grinned, a perfect white-toothed grin and held out his hand. ‘This is so fortuitous that you two are actually here,’ he said.

  ‘Is it? Why?’ I frowned and glanced towards Daisy once more, who seemed to have been struck dumb in the presence of such beauty. I glared at her, wanting some back-up, but she seemed unable to stop staring at him.

  ‘Mrs Booth – your granny Madge – rang Harriet last night.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m amazed Madge knew how to contact her,’ I said crossly. Why the hell was I feeling so cross? Daisy finally glanced my way, her trance-like state broken by my tone of voice.

  ‘Mum left her phone number with Mrs Booth,’ Liberty said, slightly pink in the face, whether from the cold or embarrassment I wasn’t sure. ‘I know your granny Madge said there was absolutely no way the house would be for sale while she was still alive, but Mum didn’t want to lose touch with her again after all these years.’

  ‘As well as you hoping she might change her mind about Holly Close Farm?’ I almost snapped. I knew I was being abrupt, and Daisy frowned in my direction.

  ‘As we’re led to believe she now has,’ Seb said, smiling winningly at us both. Daisy crumbled under his warm smile.

  ‘With one proviso,’ I retorted. ‘I’m sure she explained to your mum,’ I nodded towards Libby, who was almost holding her breath as she looked hopefully at Daisy and me, ‘that she would only allow Holly Close Farm to be sold and developed if the architectural plans and the project management of the house were left to me?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Seb said firmly. ‘I have no experience whatsoever of drawing up plans, and I’m so busy with work that I certainly don’t have the time to take it over. Libby is due to start back at Med School in Leeds next September so she’ll have plenty on her plate as well. We would need someone to do it all for us, and what better than keeping it in the family?’

  ‘Where’s little Lysander?’ Daisy asked, in a daft cooing voice. ‘He was gorgeous. I could have adopted him on the spot and taken him home with me when I saw him on Saturday.’

  Gorgeous? I glared at Daisy once more. Since when had Daisy started liking babies, for heaven’s sake? She’d called them horrible rug rats up until now, and yet, here she was, making out she was the Angelina Jolie of the North.

  ‘We’ve left him with Seb’s mother,’ Libby smiled. ‘She’s always desperate to get her hands on him.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ Daisy gushed.

  ‘So, Charlotte – Charlie, isn’t it?’ Seb turned his charm on me – ‘what do you think? We’re totally in your hands. Without you, we can do nothing.’

  ‘I’m sure, now that she’s seen all of this, Charlie will be dying to get her hands on it.’ Daisy glared at me.

  ‘Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re both so… young. Once this place, along with the cottage down here…’ I indicated, with a slight nod of my head, the newly discovered wreck of the cottage behind us ‘… is valued, I would have thought you’d need to be a lottery winner to take on a project like this. I’ve valued a lot of places, and with all of this, you’re not going to have much change out of a million. Add another hefty sum for all the renovations.’

  ‘Charlie, I don’t wish to appear rude either.’ Seb continued to smile, but I could tell he was embarrassed, if not a little cross with my bringing up his finances, or what I perceived to be a lack of them. ‘All I will say is that whatever Mrs Booth wants for the place, we’ll be in a position to pay it. My father is behind us with the whole project.’

  ‘Who’s your father?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘Santa Claus?’

  ‘David Henderson,’ Seb said calmly. ‘I’m sure, with you living in Westenbury, you’ll know of him.’ It was a statement rather than a question.

  Daisy whistled. ‘David Henderson? The David Henderson? The Richard Branson of the North?’ Daisy whistled again.

  ‘The very same.’ Seb smiled at Daisy. ‘He’s been down here a couple of times with us and he’s fallen in love with the place, too. He’ll be more than happy backing us in the project.’

  ‘Not that I’ve ever met him,’ I said somewhat sourly, ‘but I’d have thought if David Henderson was helping you out, he’d have wanted to bring in his own project manager?’

  ‘He probably would really,’ Seb agreed, nodding. ‘But if we’re to buy the place we obviously need to abide by Mrs Booth’s rules. There’s clearly some history here. We’ve just been to see her now before coming down here and I get the impression she still loves the house very much.’

  ‘Well, if she does, she’s kept it very well hidden from the rest of us,’ I snapped.

  ‘So, Charlie, what do you think? Will you do it for us?’ Liberty was pleading, her face full of hope.

  ‘Daisy and I are on our way to see Granny Madge now.’

  ‘We are?’ Daisy looked surprised.

  ‘Definitely. Come on. We’ll be in touch.’ I held out my hand formally. ‘We’ll let you know our decision in a couple of days.’

  *
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  ‘What is your problem?’ Daisy was cross. ‘Those two are lovely, and you came over as an arrogant, supercilious know-it-all.’ Daisy slammed the car door behind her and headed for the main door of Almast Haven. ‘You’ve been offered this wonderful opportunity to develop the most heavenly house I’ve ever seen – and probably with carte blanche to spend as much money as you want now that you know your customer is David Henderson’s son.’ Daisy stomped towards reception and I had to hurry to keep up. ‘And yet you were bad tempered, miserable, inflated with your own importance.’

  ‘Anything else?’ I snapped back. ‘Anything else you’d like to add?’

  ‘Oh, how about condescending – I can’t believe you asked David Henderson’s son if he had enough money, for heaven’s sake.’

  ‘I’ve told you, Daisy, I wasn’t planning on staying back in Westenbury.’

  ‘Well, in that case, put those poor people out of their misery and bugger off back down south. If Granny Madge will let someone else develop and project manage it for them, then I’ll certainly take over the gardens.’ Daisy glared at me. ‘If they’ll even consider a Maddison sister now after your little performance back there.’

  I was feeling guilty. As we walked in stony silence along the corridor towards Granny Madge’s room, I tried to work out why I’d been so awful.

  ‘I was jealous,’ I muttered to Daisy’s back.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘I was jealous. I’m sorry.’

  Daisy stopped walking and faced me. ‘I’m not even going to ask what you were jealous of,’ she said, a little more gently.

  ‘He’s gorgeous, so is she. They have a beautiful baby. She’s going to be a doctor, for heaven’s sake. And they want the house as well?’ Daisy shook her head as I counted off all their attributes on my fingers. ‘And they’re in love. I don’t think Dominic ever looked at me the way Seb was looking at Libby.’

  Daisy smiled. ‘I rather thought it might be me he was looking at.’