by Heidi Swain
I couldn’t get anything else out of her so, with her permission, I took the keys to the truck and headed into Wynbridge.
I parked in the market square trying not to think about what Annie meant by there being ‘more to the move than met the eye’, and with the intention of registering at the library and hopefully taking advantage of its Wi-Fi access. Ever since she had mentioned Dan I had been itching to check my emails and catch up with what was happening in the rest of the world. I would dearly have loved to enquire about internet options for the farm, but given the fallout over the fair I considered it best not to broach the subject for the time being.
As I locked the truck door and pocketed the key I spotted, tucked away on the other side of the square, a sign offering free Wi-Fi that didn’t look like it was connected to the library at all. I hadn’t taken many steps before I realised the notice belonged to The Cherry Tree Café.
As I pushed open the gate to investigate further a customer came out through the door, and the aroma of fresh coffee that followed her drew me in.
‘Amber, isn’t it?’ smiled Jemma from behind the counter. ‘How lovely to see you. What can I get you?’
‘A cup of that delicious smelling coffee, please,’ I said, breathing deeply. I hadn’t had a coffee fix since leaving London and couldn’t wait to get my first taste.
‘Take a seat and I’ll bring it over.’
‘I’ll have a croissant as well, please,’ I said, looking at the pretty vintage décor and cleverly co-ordinated styling. ‘This place is gorgeous,’ I told Jemma as she came over with my order.
‘Thank you,’ she said, ‘we like it. Lizzie was responsible for the cherry tree design and all the pretty finishing touches. She’ll be down in a minute. She has a felting class this morning. That’s her space at the back,’ she said, pointing to the back of the café. ‘She runs her crafting courses from there.’
‘Oh wow,’ I said. ‘Jake never mentioned those. What a fabulous set up.’
‘It’s working well,’ Jemma said proudly, ‘but it’s hard work what with juggling the kids and everything, but we wouldn’t change a thing. Now, is there anything else I can get you?’
‘No, I don’t think so, thanks. I came in with the intention of taking advantage of your free Wi-Fi, but as I’d originally planned to go to the library I didn’t bother bringing my laptop.’
‘You can borrow mine if you like,’ Jemma offered. ‘I don’t mind.’
Jemma fetched her laptop from the kitchen and I spent a few minutes chatting to Lizzie who then introduced me to Angela, the other lady who helped in the café and was, according to Jemma, ‘the glue that held everything together’. I relished every mouthful of the coffee and Lizzie had refilled my cup before I had a chance to ask.
Needless to say, having not checked my email account for a couple of days, my spam folder was fit to burst and my inbox was crammed with requests from Elena who, having discovered my old mobile was no longer switched on, had changed tactics. I scrolled down the screen methodically ticking everything that had her name on it and pressed delete. I did feel a brief pang of guilt but the emails were already tailing off and it was about time she launched her solo voyage.
There was just the one email from Dan, titled ‘Wish you were here’. Flicking through the dozen or so photos he’d sent and watching the clouds begin to gather outside I have to admit I did rather wonder at the wisdom of the choice I had made, if only with regards to the contrasting weather. The plush apartment looked as appealing as the scenery, as did the restaurants, balcony and beach view. However, the one thing Dan didn’t mention was work and there were no pictures of the office or the team he had working for him. Clearly he was taking his time to settle in. I imagined Simon would be thrilled about that.
‘Can I offer you another?’ asked Angela, who was hovering at my elbow with the coffee pot again.
‘No,’ I said, ‘thank you.’
Her eyes flicked momentarily to the screen then she looked at me again and smiled.
‘Looks nice, doesn’t it?’ I said.
Angela bent down and took a longer look.
‘It looks nice enough,’ she said, ‘reminds me of where my daughter lives in Australia. All right for a holiday, I daresay,’ she smiled, ‘but home is where the heart is, don’t you think?’
I nodded, but didn’t say anything. Just for the moment I was experiencing a tiny pang of doubt about my new home. It was obvious, after my conversation with Annie, and Jake’s reaction to Henry mentioning the cottage in the pub, that there was something he wasn’t telling me, and as much as I hated to admit it, it was shaking my faith in my hasty decision to pack up my life and move to the country.
‘Thanks for that,’ I said, passing the laptop back over the counter to Jemma, ‘I’m all caught up now.’
‘How did Jake get on yesterday?’ Lizzie called through from the crafting area where she was still setting up.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked as I wandered over.
‘He was at the council offices, wasn’t he, Jemma?’ she called through to her friend.
‘I really couldn’t say,’ shrugged Jemma. ‘It wouldn’t be appropriate for the wife of a council employee to discuss council business.’
‘It isn’t like the doctors,’ laughed Lizzie, ‘you aren’t breaking any oath!’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘I shouldn’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find out whatever it’s all about soon enough.’
Chapter 14
I reversed out of the parking space and headed back to the farm with mixed feelings. The day had turned the same shade as my spirits, dull and grey, and by the time I pulled back into the yard a steady light rain had begun to fall. I parked the truck in its allotted spot and went back to the house.
‘Where have you been?’ Jake said, jumping up. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’
‘I could ask you the same question,’ I retaliated.
Jake nodded, but didn’t say anything.
‘I drove in to Wynbridge,’ I told him, then added with a touch of defiance, ‘I wanted to check my emails. See if there was anything that needed my attention.’
‘And was there?’
‘No,’ I admitted, knowing I had lost the point I was trying to score.
‘Well, never mind that now,’ he said. ‘Come and sit down. I have something to tell you.’
‘What?’ I said, filling the kettle and ignoring the chair he had pulled out for me.
He reached for my wrist as soon as I’d set the kettle to boil and pulled me into his arms.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, kissing me lightly on the lips and making my stomach flip, even though my brain was telling it not to.
‘I was worried about you,’ I said quietly, ‘it wasn’t nice being left all on my own.’
‘You had Annie,’ he smiled, kissing me again.
‘Yes, but I could hardly ask her to come and protect me from the rodent in the rafters, could I? Talking of which, it’s raining again and you still haven’t fixed the roof.’
‘I did come up to bed,’ he whispered in my ear, while softly caressing my neck, ‘so technically I was there to protect you, and as for the roof, I’m going to have a look at it in a minute.’
‘Good,’ I said, resisting his less than subtle seduction technique and not really caring that he was going to get wet through. ‘Because I’m not sleeping another night in that room with that wretched bucket at the foot of the bed.’
‘Amber.’
‘What?’
‘Please sit down and listen.’
Reluctantly I gave in and sat and waited to hear what he’d been up to for the last twenty-four hours.
‘As you know,’ he said, taking the seat opposite, ‘when you suggested having the May Fair here, I wasn’t very keen on the idea.’
‘Yes,’ I said frostily, ‘that much I had worked out.’
‘But Annie was.’
‘Yes,’ I smiled, ‘Annie was.’
‘And as y
ou’ve probably already worked out,’ he continued with a wry smile, ‘what Annie says, goes, as far as this place is concerned anyway.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I had rather worked that one out.’
I could feel the beginnings of the hope that I had felt when I first made the suggestion surging back up again.
‘So, to cut a long and very tedious story short—’
‘I’m rather beginning to wish you would.’
‘We’re having the May Fair here!’ he said in a rush.
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘Skylark Farm is hosting the May Fair this year?’ I squealed.
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re happy with that?’
‘Yes.’
I jumped up, threw my arms around his neck and kissed him passionately on the lips. I wasn’t sure why hosting the fair was so important to me, but it was. Perhaps because it offered me the opportunity to contribute to the farm and the area in a way I felt comfortable with, or perhaps it was more to do with making sure Annie got the opportunity to fight for her sewing crown. Regardless of what it was, I was thrilled that it was going to happen and I couldn’t wait to get started.
Chapter 15
Much as I had expected, organising a traditional rural fair was very similar to overseeing the corporate events I had become used to project managing in the city. A great deal of patience, persistence and dogged determination was needed, along with the all too familiar commitment to be on hand at the drop of a hat to iron out the wrinkles that had a habit of popping up when you least expected them.
However, unlike the business dealings I was used to, the May Fair had the added complication of a million and one unwritten, but firmly established rules that I found myself having to grapple with, and make allowances for. A problem made all the more difficult by the simple fact that I didn’t know what any of the rules were.
Take the mowing of the meadows, for example. To me it was perfectly logical that Mr Smith, our closest neighbour, should be granted permission to do it as he was on hand; however, that did not take into account Mr Richards further along the Drove who had always prepared the old site and was mortally offended when he heard that his services would not be required. It took me an hour of sweet talking and several halves of bitter in The Mermaid to rectify the situation, but rectify it I did, although I would imagine that Mr Richards’s recollection of my heartfelt apology was somewhat hazy.
And this was just one tiny detail. Throw in other such tiresome delights as who would be supplying the tea urns and tables, the chairs and tablecloths (paper versus fabric), along with who would be judging the ‘waggiest tail’ in the dog show and the most striking floral arrangement on a tea tray and I soon realised, that in my haste to settle into rural life and play a valuable role, what I’d actually done was set myself up for a potential breakdown.
All this tedious time wasting, as I considered it, did of course pass my beloved by. When Jake had told me the farm would be playing host to the fair he had, in the very next breath, made it clear in no uncertain terms that even though he would attend the fair with me he would not, under any circumstances, have time to help with the organising and preparations, as there were other far more pressing things to attend to, such as fixing the roof of the house.
‘Have you thought any more about the fancy dress theme for the under nines?’ Harriet asked, one particularly fraught Thursday a couple of weeks before the main event.
‘I’ve thought of little else,’ I told her seriously, as I flicked through the file that had all the paperwork relating to the children’s competitions crammed inside it.
‘And whether or not there’ll be a fourth ice cream van?’
‘Not yet,’ I said in a clipped tone. ‘I’ve scheduled that in for around three tomorrow morning.’
She stopped flicking through her own pile of papers and looked up at me.
‘I thought you were being serious,’ she frowned.
‘Sorry,’ I said, throwing the file down on the table and rubbing my eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘How are you bearing up?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose and bracing herself for the answer.
‘Really?’
‘Yes,’ she winced, ‘really.’
‘Well now,’ I began, ‘let me see. When I first suggested this idea I did so kind of on the assumption that there were already various established committees who would make all these ridiculous decisions and take responsibility for the vast majority of components that make up this damn fair!’
‘Oh,’ smiled Harriet, ‘damn fair now, is it?’
‘I had thought,’ I raged on, ‘that all Jake and I, sorry,’ I corrected myself, ‘I would have to do is sign a few bits of paper and point various lorries and vans in the right direction when the time came, but oh no! Now I’m even being asked to give an opinion as to whether there should be a tray bake and a tear and share category in the home bake competition or if we should just stick to one or the other!’
‘Talking of baking,’ said Jessica, who poked her head round the kitchen door, ‘how’s the cake making coming along?’
‘Oh bollocks!’ I shouted, rushing over to the range and rescuing an ever so slightly burnt pair of sponges from the oven. ‘I’ll never get the hang of this when I’ve got so much else to do,’ I said resignedly. ‘I give up.’
I threw the tins on the table and even the dogs turned away in disgust. Clearly they had eaten one too many failed offerings in the last few weeks.
‘How is it,’ I said to Jessica and Harriet, ‘that I’ve ended up with all this work when the fair has run for years, according to Annie, without a hitch?’
Jessica flicked through the piles of clipboards, making a note of all the red squiggles which indicated the things that I had been asked to help with.
‘Looks to me like you’ve been lumbered with the tricky bits,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’ I sighed. ‘What are the tricky bits?’
‘All the things that cause problems every year,’ Harriet chipped in. ‘All the decisions that put people’s backs up. All the things that require a shed load of tact and diplomacy, along with an intimate knowledge of everyone’s family history going back at least three generations. All the—’
‘Yeah, OK,’ I said, putting up a hand to stop her, ‘thanks. I get the idea. Do you think they’re trying to catch me out on purpose?’ I’d been wondering that ever since I’d made the mistake with the mowing. ‘Do you think they’re out to prove that I can’t do it and that as an incomer, I don’t even have the right to try?’
‘Absolutely not,’ said Jessica firmly. ‘Everyone in The Mermaid was singing your praises last night, weren’t they, Harriet?’
‘Yep,’ she agreed, ‘they all know that without you and the farm the fair wouldn’t be happening at all this year and of course they also know what you did for a living in London. And don’t forget, you did say from the outset that you were willing to help out. It’s the same old situation, I’m afraid.’
‘Which is?’
‘If you say you’ll help out,’ said Harriet.
‘Then you’ll be helping out forever,’ finished Jessica.
The only time I got any real respite from organising and checking and telephoning was late in the evenings, and as I ticked off the days on the kitchen calendar my baking skills were improving at about the same rate as my sewing . . . with painful slowness.
Annie had convinced me to enter one of the sewing classes as well as the baking. She said it would take the pressure off the cake making, and during the time the tins were in the oven, completing a few stitches would stop me opening the door to check the cakes’ progress and consequently ruining all possibility of them rising. I agreed, feeling most grateful that the weather was warm and that Mabel and Martha were able to supply me with an egg every day and that the farm next door always had a half a dozen for sale at the gate.
‘How are you getting on?’ I asked, looking at the quilt Ann
ie was sewing.
She had decided to focus all her attention on just one entry this year and was throwing every spare second into perfecting the quilted design of Skylark Farm she had come up with. The farmhouse took centre stage, complete with embroidered roses around the porch and hens clucking at the door. The edge was embellished with apple trees in every season to represent the orchards and the River Wyn appeared as a sinuous blue thread just as it did around the farm boundary. There was even a pair of patterned wellington boots propped up against the wall next to the porch.
Lizzie Dixon from The Cherry Tree wasn’t allowed to take part in any of the competitions as she made her living from sewing and crafting, but she had been a regular visitor since Annie began the quilt, questioning her about who taught her to sew and how she’d learnt this and that stitch.
‘She’s doing amazingly well,’ Lizzie answered for Annie. ‘And this is really something,’ she added for the umpteenth time, as we all sat together at the kitchen table. ‘I’ve learnt almost as much from Annie as I did from my grandmother.’
It turned out that Lizzie’s gran and Annie had been firm friends. Their love of sewing had held them together when other childhood friendships had wavered and gradually faded into memory.
‘And what do you think of my bookmark?’ I said, holding aloft my simple cross-stitch effort.
Annie scrutinised my stitches for a few seconds and then looked at me over the top of her half-moon glasses. ‘I would do that whole left side again if I was you and,’ she added with a nod to the range, ‘I hate to say it but I think you’ve burnt your cakes.’
OK, so I was rubbish at sewing and I was certainly taking my time to get into my stride as far as the baking was concerned, but life on the farm was a dream. You only had to look at the state of my pretty patterned wellington boots to see that I had really got stuck in with running things. I loved the hens; especially Martha who would quite happily sit tucked under my arm, placid, docile and clucking softly as I went about my chores.
Patricia and I had never really hit it off, however; she was still sitting tight and now had four eggs under her that Jake had sourced and I had high hopes that they would hatch any day now.