The weeks flew by, exams came and went, and we soon settled into the serious business of enjoying our long summer of fun before the results were published. There were days spent doing nothing but sunbathing, all-night parties, club nights at the one dodgy club in Holmthwaite interspersed, for Anna and me at least, with our part-time jobs, hers at the local pub and mine at the post office. Dan and Joe both worked long hours at their family enterprises: Dan on the farm and Joe doing the early-morning shift at the bakery. We talked loosely about all going on holiday together, but we never got as far as booking anything. My parents had offered to pay for flights to the States to visit them but the thought of unclamping my face from Dan’s had been too awful to contemplate.
August came around and while I was starting to get nervous about my results and wondering what I’d do if I’d failed them all, Joe, Dan, Anna and a group of others packed rucksacks with camping equipment and headed off to north Wales to complete their final expedition for their Duke of Edinburgh award.
I was sad not to be going with them, but the survival training sessions back in spring had clashed with an extra maths course I’d committed to and I hadn’t been allowed to join the expedition without being properly trained. I was irritable and bored stiff without my friends and missing Dan terribly but I consoled myself with the knowledge that at least I had a shower, clean clothes and a comfy bed at night, unlike them on a blustery Welsh mountain, and I threw myself into buying what I’d need for my room in university accommodation instead.
The D of E group was due back at college on the evening before results day. It had started to drizzle and I was damp and perspiring inside my waterproof jacket by the time I’d cycled down to meet them. My stomach fizzed as the minibus pulled into the car park; this had been the longest Dan and I had been apart since we’d been a couple and I couldn’t wait to see him. The parents who’d arrived to collect their offspring moved in like a swarm of honey bees. I spotted Viv and went to stand beside her. First off the bus was Tasha, or rather, Tasha’s crutches. Then, aided by the teacher in charge and Joe, was Tasha with her ankle in plaster. Poor girl. She looked ashen. My heart fluttered, hoping that no one else was injured.
Next came Dan. I jumped up and down, waving and calling his name, hoping he’d run over and swing me round in his arms in front of everyone, saying how much he’d missed me.
I didn’t get the reaction I’d been hoping for.
Dan, Joe and Anna were so tired they could barely stand. There was no laughter, none of the usual banter; in fact, it was almost as if they weren’t even on speaking terms. The mood was tense and when I asked Anna if she was okay, she’d been close to tears and said she’d had the worst time of her life.
I hugged Dan and tried to find out what had happened but after returning the briefest of kisses he brushed me away, telling me that he stank. Viv shot me a look of sympathy and asked if I wanted to come back to the farm with them. Dan interrupted her, bundling his rucksack into the back of the Land Rover and saying that he just wanted to go home to sleep. After he’d squeezed my arm, promising to talk to me tomorrow, he clambered into the car and closed his eyes. Joe disappeared with his mum and even Anna said she was going back to her gran’s for the night. Within a few minutes the car park was empty again and I was alone. I was bitterly disappointed that none of my friends had seemed pleased to see me, but I put it down to tiredness and perhaps the stress of the trip and Tasha’s accident. I got back on my bike and made my way home.
The next morning, I went to college to collect my results and met Anna and Dan in the foyer. There still seemed to be an atmosphere between them but I assumed it was nerves. Anna went into the hall, leaving us alone, and Dan told me that Joe had already left, after collecting his results – three straight As. I was thrilled for him, but uptight about my own results. I laced my fingers through Dan’s as we walked into the hall. For once he didn’t pull away as he usually did when we were in public. But his usual healthy glow was gone: he looked pale and queasy. I teased him, telling him I’d still love him even if he’d flunked them all. Results envelopes were being given out alphabetically and we each headed towards our allotted section.
Five minutes later, Dan and I were outside on one of the benches.
‘Two Bs and a C!’ I said, heaving a sigh of relief. ‘Not enough for a place on University Challenge, but it will get me to Lancaster. How about you?’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, good. All As like Joe. So vet school in Bristol here I come.’
‘That’s brilliant!’ I kissed him and tried not to think about the fact that in only a few short weeks we’d be living in different cities, hundreds of miles apart.
‘And I’m so chuffed for Joe, the sly fox,’ I laughed. I hadn’t realized until this moment how heavily the exams had been weighing me down. Now I felt free and exhilarated. ‘We should go out tonight for cocktails and celebrate. I’ll find Anna and tell her. You ring Joe.’
I looked round for Anna but couldn’t spot her in the crowds of teenagers in various states of nervous excitement.
Dan stood up and held his hand out to me. ‘Let’s go for a walk away from everyone.’
‘Sure.’ I got up, pleased that at last he wanted to spend some time alone with me.
Hand in hand we walked around the side of the college, towards the football field, leaving the noise of the other students behind us. Suddenly he stopped still and turned to face me. He exhaled and when he spoke his voice was wobbly and unfamiliar.
‘Listen, Hetty, there’s no easy way to say this …’
But he said it anyway. I blinked at him, confused by the change in tempo of the moment, hardly able to take in his words. How he’d felt we were getting too serious and that a few days in the wilds of Wales without me at his side made him realize how dependent we’d become on each other. We were too young, he urged, he wanted me to go off to university and not be tied to him. He said we should be having fun, being reckless, enjoying our freedom …
I stared at him through my tears and said that I was having fun and I’d been supposedly enjoying my freedom for almost two years since Mum and Dad left for Cape Cod and actually it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. But he’d apologized, saying that he hadn’t meant to hurt me. He kissed my cheek, like I’d seen him kiss his mum, held me one more time and then left. I sank to the ground and sobbed for ages. Then I called Anna, hoping she’d come outside and comfort me, but she didn’t pick up.
I managed to dodge the rest of our friends at the front of the college and made my way miserably back home.
When I got there, a note had been pushed through the letterbox. It was from Anna to say she hoped I’d done well but things hadn’t gone well for her; she didn’t have the grades she needed and would have to resit and she was too miserable to talk at the moment. Poor Anna, her note made me cry harder. No sooner had I stemmed the flow of tears than Mum phoned to see how I’d got on and also to break the news that the house had been sold and how quickly did I think I could move out?
It was the final straw; I couldn’t hide my sadness from Mum and burst into tears again. She tried her best to cheer me up, telling me what fun I was going to have at uni and how everything seemed overwhelming now but I was on the cusp of a new adventure, I’d meet new friends, explore a new city and before I knew it my heartache would fade.
She might have been right, but later that night when I went to bed in an empty house I’d never felt more alone in my life. And the idea of waking up knowing me and Dan were over filled me with dread. Suddenly I had to get away, I didn’t want to spend the next few weeks avoiding him until I left for university. So I got back out of bed, packed a suitcase, phoned for a taxi and spent the night in the bus station waiting for the first coach to Cornwall the next morning. I wasn’t sure what was in store for me, but taking back control felt like a positive move. I wanted a change, to do something drastic, meet new people, or at least avoid old ones.
Dan and I splitting up was the en
d of an era; our little gang had disbanded, the four of us had not been together again since.
The summer of fun was officially over.
Chapter 13
The following day, I was in my vegetable garden tethering pea plants to their stakes when the Land Rover and trailer rumbled into the yard. The hens scattered in all directions and the dogs in the kennel barked at the return of their master. Cameron jumped out, nodded at me in greeting and went around the back of the vehicle to unhook the trailer. It was empty. Good sign. That meant the lambs had fetched at least their reserve price at auction. Dan got out more slowly and stretched his neck and shoulders.
‘How did you get on?’ I shouted, keeping my fingers crossed for a good result.
We were sending lambs to market every Saturday now and this was the time of year we made our profit. All the money we put into the flock over the year: the feed, medication, treatments against disease, vet’s bills … It was an expensive business, not to mention risky, as so many things could go wrong.
He stuck up a thumb. ‘Bloody brilliant! We got an average of a hundred pounds per lamb!’
‘Gosh, well done!’
I felt a rush of adrenalin from my toes to my head. I’d been waiting for the right time to talk to Dan about my business ideas. A moment when he was in a good mood. This might be it.
‘Yep. The buyers were on fire today,’ he continued, fetching a ten-pound note out of his wallet and handing it to Cameron, then slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Well done, lad. The supermarkets will have lovely Cumbrian lamb on the shelves this time next week. From our farm. Makes it all worthwhile when it goes well.’
It did. It had been a good week financially, with that and the stud fee Dan got for Jake last Friday. The bank balance would be well in the black for a change.
‘We’ll celebrate tonight.’ I grinned at him. ‘I’ll nip to the butcher’s for some steak and we can open a bottle of wine.’
‘Champion,’ he replied.
It was good to see him happy. Farming was an incredible way of life in so many ways, but it was tough too. Moments of triumph like these were definitely ones to treasure and they kept us going in the midst of winter when the water pipes were frozen or sheep had been attacked or the monthly vet bill arrived.
‘I’ll go and make lunch,’ I said. I secured the last pea shoot with twine and tucked my secateurs into my tool belt.
‘Great, I’m starving.’ Dan lifted a hand in response and disappeared across the yard towards the shed where he kept an assortment of farm machinery.
Ten minutes later I’d made a stack of cheese and pickle sandwiches and a pot of tea but neither Cameron nor Dan had arrived. I stuck my head out of the doorway and found Cameron loitering outside, hands in pockets, kicking his toe against a lump of dried muck in the yard.
‘Lunch is ready, help yourself,’ I told him, knowing he would never come inside without a direct invitation. ‘I’ll fetch Dan.’
I smoothed a hand over my hair nervously and took a deep breath. This was it. This was the moment to tell him about the funds I needed to get Hetty’s Farmhouse Bakery off the ground.
My initial estimate had been right: I needed a thousand pounds to put in a double sink, an extra oven and some new worktops. I ran over my key points as I walked to the sheds: short-term outlay, long-term benefits, a few big regular orders (slightly massaging the truth here) and I’d easily cover my costs. And the farm generated most of its income during the summer months; my pies would help bridge the gap over winter. It wasn’t that Dan was tight; it was more that we had, through necessity, to be cautious with money. We didn’t have much in the way of savings and what we did have we called our emergency fund and we used it for things like building repairs and new machinery and, very occasionally, new vehicles. Spending money on a perfectly serviceable kitchen was not an emergency.
We had several sheds, in varying states of disrepair. The biggest was fairly watertight and we used it to house straw bales and the milk powder we bought in for our orphan lambs. And it was in there that I found Dan, in the corner, sitting on his dad’s vintage tractor and staring into space. The tractor hadn’t moved for over a decade and was allegedly going to be one of Dan’s projects when he had time. The tyres had started to disintegrate, the engine had seized and there were thick cobwebs covering the peeling red paintwork.
‘Hi there.’ I coughed lightly so as not to make him jump. ‘Is this a good time to talk?’
He looked up, surprised to see me, and gave himself a shake.
‘I was miles away. This was my granddad’s old tractor before he gave it to my dad.’
I nodded. This was a tale he’d told and retold over the years. I walked slowly up to him and leaned my head against his shoulder. He tucked one arm around me and ran a hand over the crude metal steering wheel, laughing softly under his breath.
‘Granddad said I wasn’t allowed to drive it by myself until I was ten. So five a.m. on my tenth birthday I came down and rode around the whole farm on it before anyone else woke up. I got as far as Top Valley when it ran out of fuel. I had to run back for a can of diesel before my granddad woke up and found it stranded in a field. Never run so fast in my life,’ he chuckled.
‘When I got it back into the yard, my dad and grandad were waiting to use it for the harvest and I thought I was in for a good hiding. But Dad said that as I was already in the hot seat, I could help them. Eight hours later, my backside was covered in bruises from bouncing on that hard seat all day and I couldn’t wait to get off.
‘Dad had laughed at me walking like John Wayne, but he was proud of me. “We’ll make a farmer out of you yet, lad,” he said. And I said …’ Dan hesitated and scratched the stubble on his jaw. ‘I said that I didn’t want to be a farmer, I wanted to be a vet. I thought he was going to cry. I ruined that day for him. And for myself. He drove the tractor himself the next day. I felt awful.’
‘He came round to the idea in the end, though,’ I reminded him.
‘I hope Dad would be pleased with the way I’m running his farm, even though I wasn’t that keen at first.’
‘He’d be proud as punch,’ I said, ‘although he’d have probably felt guilty that you didn’t get to vet school after all.’
‘No point dwelling on “what ifs”. Besides, we’re happy enough, aren’t we?’
He turned to me and I nodded.
‘More than enough.’
He climbed down from the tractor and together we walked towards the shed door.
‘I’ve decided that the time has come to get the tractor going again,’ he said. ‘Seeing as we’ve done all right moneywise recently. I thought about having it towed away and getting it done up for Poppy’s birthday. I can’t think of a better way to spend the money, can you? Plus, it would be a nice tribute to Dad and Granddad.’
What could I possibly say to that? Her own tractor. It might not be every thirteen-year-old girl’s dream gift but I knew Poppy would be over the moon. And I loved Dan for even thinking of it.
‘No,’ I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. ‘No I can’t.’
So that was that. No money left in the pot for me.
For the rest of the weekend I vowed not to think or say or do anything more pie related. It had begun to take over my every waking thought and I needed some space from it. Luckily, living on a farm there are always plenty of distractions. The weather had remained warm and perfect for bringing in the hay to make the haylage, which would feed the sheep over winter, and so Dan and I hit the phones to call for back-up.
Sunnybank Farm didn’t have a large enough crop to warrant investing in huge automatic machinery to do it all for us, so we brought in the hay the old-fashioned way with a tractor, an ancient baler and plenty of pairs of hands. I begged Anna to come with Bart. Tim was working away but Oscar and Otis were back from university for the summer so Naomi roped them in to help. Poppy was in her element having both Bart and her big cousins to boss about; Naomi and Dan tried to outdo each other
in terms of who was working the hardest and the dogs tired themselves out running in circles through the cut hay. Anna and I alternated between reminiscing about Joe and wondering what it would be like to see him again and playing a childish game of sneaking up and stuffing hay down each other’s backs all day and Dan had to occasionally intervene sternly when our bouts of giggling interfered with the job. Viv was there too and temporarily reclaimed my kitchen to throw together a picnic which we ate in the fields. It was hard work but great fun and it turned into one of those glorious English summer days which sustained us through the cold and windy winters.
By nine o’clock on Sunday night we were sun-kissed and sleepy. Poppy disappeared in a panic to do a last-minute piece of homework and Dan had already been asleep in the armchair for an hour when the phone rang. I snatched it up quickly so as not to wake him and slipped out into the sultry evening air to talk.
‘Hello?’ I said softly as soon as I’d pulled the door behind me.
The dogs in their big kennel looked up at the disturbance and, not wanting them to start barking, I took the path around to the vegetable garden.
‘Well.’
I smiled. How my mum could squeeze quite so much indignation into one word was incredible.
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘Twelve days I’ve waited for you to tell me about your success in that Cumbria competition. Twelve!’
‘Sorry, I should have called,’ I admitted. ‘How are you?’
‘Leathery.’ There was a slurping noise while she took a drink. ‘And loving it.’
‘Ha. Same here.’
I could picture her sipping iced-tea, looking at the ocean from under the little covered porch that ran the length of her white clapboard bungalow, sheltering from the afternoon sun. Meanwhile, I sat on the old split-pine bench beside the potting shed and rested my feet on an upturned plant pot, gazing up at the shadowy hills. We were approaching the solstice and up here in the north of England it didn’t get properly dark; the sky turned purple rather than black but the stars still managed to put on a magical display and the gentle noises of the night were comforting and familiar.
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