Hetty's Farmhouse Bakery

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Hetty's Farmhouse Bakery Page 17

by Cathy Bramley


  I sat up to take my tea from her and sipped it.

  ‘Heaven.’ I closed my eyes and sighed with pleasure.

  ‘You relax.’ She sat at her desk and began scribbling some notes. ‘I just have to file a report about Poppy’s injuries.’

  ‘I haven’t stopped today, despite what my husband might think.’

  ‘Oh dear, is everything not rosy in your marital garden?’

  ‘Humpf. You could say that. Dan has told me that I won’t win this London competition and so it’s not worth going.’

  ‘Wow.’ She looked at me, bemused. ‘That was a bit caveman of him. You’re not pulling out, are you?’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ I groaned softly. ‘We had such a row.’

  ‘Oh don’t.’ She stuck her fingers in her ears. ‘You two are my beacon of light in a dark, dark world. You’re meant to be together, it’s written in the stars.’

  ‘You daft thing,’ I said, grinning.

  ‘I mean it.’ She gave me a lopsided smile. ‘As you know, I’ve never had any joy with men. I have seriously considered denouncing the opposite sex for good and becoming a nun. And then I look at you and it gives me hope. It can be done, I think to myself, as I call time on yet another failed relationship. If Dan and Hetty can fall in love and stay that way, it is possible.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel possible at the moment, he’s upset with me and I don’t appear to be making him happy either.’ A thought occurred to me and I gasped. ‘Hey, Joe joked the other day about the seven-year itch. Perhaps this is it?’

  Anna frowned. ‘Ignore Joe; he hasn’t seen how happy you two have been for the last decade and a half. Don’t give up on love. For my sake. Or I really will have to take the veil.’

  The two of us laughed and I took another sip of my tea.

  ‘Look,’ she hesitated, ‘I don’t mean to pry but – and let’s face it I’m no expert so feel free to ignore me …’

  ‘What?’ I said, laughing. ‘Come on; out with it.’

  ‘Well,’ she pursed her lips as if choosing her words carefully, ‘are you both making an effort, you know, in the romance department? I mean, please tell me it’s not all buttoned-up nighties and thermal pyjamas.’

  I nearly snorted my tea out through my nose. ‘You do know we don’t have double glazing, don’t you? Our bedroom is freezing.’

  ‘But you have each other,’ she said fiercely.

  My eyes softened. ‘We do.’

  She was right, we’d let life get in the way, or to be more precise, pies. I couldn’t remember the last time he and I went on a date together, at least not one that didn’t involve winning rosettes for our sheep. I’d make a determined effort to put romance firmly back on the menu as soon as I was back from London. I’d just have to hope he was still talking to me by then.

  ‘I’m not giving up on love.’ I sighed. ‘It just seems like I’m the one making all the sacrifices, that’s all.’

  ‘That’s love, though, isn’t it?’ she said simply. ‘The more we love someone, the bigger the sacrifice we’ll make for them. Look at me and Bart; prime example.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I hitched myself back on the bed and stretched my legs out like a patient.

  ‘When I was younger, I had one goal and that was to study medicine. No one in my family, as far as I knew, had ever gone to university, let alone become a doctor. It was more than just a dream; it was my driving force. Nothing, no one, was more important to me than that. I never let boys come between me and my studies.’

  ‘I remember,’ I said. ‘You always dumped them after a couple of dates. You still do.’

  ‘Hmm,’ she agreed. ‘Sometimes I lie awake at night psychoanalysing myself. Part of me wants a man to sweep me off my feet and take care of me, the other part wants to punch any man who’d even dare to suggest such a thing in the goolies.’

  I chuckled. ‘I think you have control issues.’

  ‘You think?’ She twirled a blonde curl round her finger contemplatively. ‘Anyway, stop changing the subject. I’m trying to tell you a tale about sacrifices.’

  ‘Sorry.’ I mimed zipping my mouth.

  ‘Heading off travelling after sixth-form wasn’t planned but when I didn’t get the grades for medicine I decided to make the most of the opportunity until my re-sits. I didn’t even own a passport before I left college. I’d been nowhere, I was no one. I was scrawny little Anna Croft from the rough end of Holmthwaite. I thought doing the gap year thing would give me something to talk about at med school when I eventually did get there and all the posh kids were talking about their private schools and long-haul holidays.’

  ‘Oh Anna.’ My heart ached for her. ‘You were so not a nobody. You were the brightest star in my orbit, even then.’

  ‘Apart from Dan,’ she said, looking at me with a grin.

  ‘True enough.’ I smiled, acknowledging she was right. ‘I was besotted with him. And then …?’

  She shrugged. ‘I had a ball at first. I partied in Australia and then continued to Thailand.’

  ‘When you realized you were pregnant?’

  She swallowed and nodded. She didn’t need to tell me the rest, I already knew that she’d taken up a volunteering role in Thailand at a maternity hospital being run by a humanitarian charity project. A month after she’d been there she became ill and her supervisor checked her over, thinking she may have picked up a virus. But it was just a case of good old-fashioned morning sickness. The project organizers wanted to send her back to the UK but Anna begged to be allowed to stay. The only family she had at home was her grandmother and she knew she’d be livid with her for getting pregnant; and with no other means of supporting herself, she wanted to stay put and finally they agreed. The baby came early, but he was a strong and healthy little thing and when he was three months old, she decided to come back to Cumbria.

  ‘I still wish that you’d told me,’ I said softly. ‘I’d have flown out to you. You needn’t have gone through it alone.’

  She put her pen down and swivelled her chair round to face me.

  ‘I was so eaten up with guilt, I was better on my own.’

  ‘Why? What was there to feel guilty about?’ I sat up to study her pretty face.

  She picked up her mug and stared down into it. ‘I’d made such a mess of things, let people down.’

  I reached a hand out to her knee. ‘No one thought that. If anything, I was in awe of how well you were coping. Nineteen and a single mum. If you hadn’t turned up with Bart, Dan and I probably wouldn’t have started a family so young. Thank goodness we did.’

  We shared a wan smile. When I miscarried a baby when Poppy was still small, I was told it was unlikely I’d ever be able to carry another child to term. I’d been heartbroken at the time, as had Dan. Anna had been my rock. I don’t know what I’d have done without her.

  ‘Good did come out of it,’ she agreed. ‘Anyway, we’re digressing. The point I am trying to make is that although I’d set my heart on medical school, when Bart came along, I realized I couldn’t go. My gran disagreed, she said I should go to uni and put him up for adoption. Can you imagine?’

  I shuddered, thinking of that lovely boy growing up as a stranger, never knowing his mum.

  ‘Unthinkable.’

  ‘Exactly. So I sacrificed my dream career. I threw myself into caring for Bart and trained to be a nurse instead; it was easier to study nursing part time. Medicine would have been impossible. I have no regrets on that score. None whatsoever.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Okay, sometimes when I look at my bank balance I get a little twinge. But I feel rich in other ways.’

  I nodded slowly as it dawned on me what she was trying to say.

  ‘I am rich in other ways, admittedly,’ I said, thinking of Sunnybank Farm with its hills and river and animals and the wide, ever-changing sky above. ‘But why should I have to give up on my business idea, for the sake of my marriage?’

  Anna took a sip of her tea and then set down her mug with care.

/>   ‘I can’t answer that for you, Hetty Spaghetti, but what I will say is this.’ Her blue eyes stared fiercely into mine. ‘Not all of us get to marry our dream man, not all of us get our happy ending. Think carefully about what you’ve got to lose and how much of a risk you’re prepared to take. Because there are plenty of women out there who’d swoop in on Dan before your side of the bed was even cold.’

  Her warning sent a shiver down my spine and an image of Gareth Brookbanks surrounded by divorcees and do-gooders popped into my head.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I murmured, giving her a hug. ‘I won’t do anything rash.’

  ‘What’s this: the Middle-aged Women’s Appreciation Society?’ said Poppy as she came back in and squeezed on the bed beside me.

  ‘Cheeky.’ I bumped my shoulder against hers and caught Anna’s eye. ‘Thanks for the pep talk.’

  ‘Any time.’ She held my gaze for a moment before turning her attention to Poppy. ‘Sorry your daughter looks like a pirate.’ She bent down in front of her and neatened the edge of her bandage. ‘But if she will behave like one, what can she expect?’

  I forced Poppy to sit up. ‘Explain please?’

  Poppy sighed emphatically and examined her nails. ‘All right, but let me finish before you jump to conclusions, okay?’

  I nodded.

  She jutted her chin out. ‘I got into a fight.’

  My jaw dropped. ‘Poppy!’

  ‘Before you go bananas, just listen,’ she said calmly. ‘Remember that boy, Niall, I told you about …?’

  Anna and I listened as requested as Poppy recounted the incident. At lunchtime the boys were playing football in the playground and she and her friends were sitting on the wall watching. After the game finished, Poppy, inspired by Viv’s tale of making the first move on Mike and egged on by the other girls, went up to Niall intent on asking him out on a date.

  Anna looked at my daughter in surprise. ‘Good for you, Popsicle.’

  She lifted a shoulder nonchalantly. ‘I’m a feminist; why should men make all the decisions?’

  Sometimes, I thought, bursting with pride, I could do with taking a leaf out of my own daughter’s book. Then I remembered that she was sitting in the sickbay wearing a bandage … ‘Go on, Poppy, what happened then?’

  ‘But the boys in year nine grabbed the football and started throwing it at Niall when he wasn’t looking. It was horrible. He can catch but it’s harder for him with only one hand, and they were doing it deliberately when they knew he wasn’t expecting it.’

  Anna looked aghast. ‘Year nine boys? Please tell me Bart wasn’t among them?’

  Poppy shook her head.

  ‘Poor lad,’ I said. ‘And Anna, I’m sure Bart wouldn’t do anything like that.’

  Anna pursed her lips. ‘Hormones have a lot to answer for, believe me. I’ve seen it all.’

  ‘This wasn’t hormones.’ Poppy grimaced. ‘This was abuse, bullying, whatever, and I couldn’t stand by without saying something. So I shouted at them to leave him alone.’

  ‘That was brave of you,’ I said, flicking a worried glance at Anna. As much as I applauded her independent streak, she’d be asking for trouble if she tried this outside of school.

  Poppy gave me a withering look. ‘I know how to look after myself.’

  Anna coughed and raised her eyebrows at her bandage.

  Poppy frowned. ‘Anyway, Niall was laughing it off, but I could see he didn’t like it. The older lads were jeering at him, saying he was worse at catching than a girl.’ Poppy’s eyes flashed. ‘That was it. I was so mad, I charged at Andrew Margate, who’s the worst of them, and kicked his shin really hard. He squealed and fell to the floor, crying; you should have seen him. Such a drama queen,’ she added scornfully.

  My heart melted for my feisty and fearless daughter. Bless Poppy for standing up for Niall. But I could only imagine how embarrassing it would have been for him.

  ‘Kicking another child is never right, darling,’ I said, squeezing her hand. ‘No matter how good your intentions are.’

  ‘The boys thought it was hilarious that a girl had come to Niall’s rescue.’ Poppy hung her head. ‘Except for Niall and Andrew. Niall gave me such an evil look and then yelled at me to butt out of his business. I was so embarrassed. I turned to go back to my friends and the next thing I knew Andrew jumped up and shoved me in the back. I fell forward and hit my head on the wall and then I went a bit dizzy.’

  ‘One of the girls ran for a teacher and we got her into my room,’ Anna added.

  ‘Niall will never go out with me now.’ Poppy began to cry and dropped her head to my shoulder. ‘There’s no point even asking him.’

  ‘Oh Pops,’ I said, pressing a kiss into her hair. ‘I think you’re incredible.’

  There was a sharp knock at the door and Anna got up and opened the door just enough to see who was there. It was Bart.

  ‘Hey, you’re the talk of the entire school,’ he said, impressed.

  ‘Really?’ Poppy swiped at her tears. ‘Cool.’

  He squatted down in front of her, steadying himself with a hand on either side of her knees, and winced at the sight of her eye. ‘That’ll be a right shiner.’

  ‘D’you reckon?’ She smiled mischievously at him. ‘Good.’

  ‘It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?’

  Poppy nodded warily. ‘Next week, why?’

  He glanced briefly at his mum and then at me, his cheeks turning crimson. ‘I thought to celebrate you turning into a teenager, we could, you know, go out somewhere.’

  I suppressed a smile; I’d always thought he had a soft spot for her.

  Anna gasped and opened her mouth but before she could interrupt Poppy shook her head firmly.

  ‘Sorry, it’s against my principles.’

  ‘What, why?’ Bart sat back on his heels, crestfallen. ‘Just because I work for your dad?’

  ‘You work for us,’ Poppy reminded him. ‘And no, not because of that, because I want to do the asking for the first date I go on. It’s important to me.’

  I shook my head incredulously; where had my baby girl gone …?

  ‘No, sorry, not in my sickbay please, kids,’ said Anna, running a hand through her blonde curls. ‘The bell is about to go so—’

  ‘Bart, will you go out with me?’ Poppy blurted out.

  ‘Sure,’ he replied, looking a bit shocked.

  ‘No way!’ Anna and I said in unison.

  ‘Why not?’ Bart and Poppy demanded together.

  ‘Because, because …’ Anna’s mouth flapped open and closed like a goldfish. Bart was growing up and it seemed as though she was doing her utmost to ignore it. Nonetheless, I came to her rescue, as I knew she would mine.

  ‘Because you’re grounded,’ I said firmly, pulling Poppy gently to her feet.

  Anna’s shoulders sagged with relief.

  ‘What?’ Poppy stared at me amazed.

  ‘Sorry, but you’ve been caught fighting at school, did you think that would go unpunished?’

  ‘Well, pardon me for standing up to bullies,’ Poppy protested, rolling her eyes at Bart. ‘Adults. I will never understand them.’

  Chapter 18

  I set plates in front of Poppy and Dan stacked with American-style pancakes topped with rashers of crispy bacon.

  ‘Happy birthday, darling.’

  I wrapped an arm around her slim waist and pressed a kiss into her smooth shiny hair. She was still in pyjamas but she’d already straightened her hair. She must have been up at dawn.

  ‘Thanks, Mum,’ Poppy chimed.

  ‘I love this birthday breakfast tradition.’ Dan grinned, adding swirls of maple syrup to his own stack before passing the bottle to his daughter.

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ Poppy giggled. ‘Except that year when Mum asked for kippers.’

  The two of them shuddered and then laughed.

  I sipped at my coffee and smiled; it was lovely to see them enjoying each other’s company. They’d have even more time toget
her when I disappeared off to London tomorrow, leaving Viv in charge of my kitchen for two days. There was still so much to do; I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to take with me, I had pies to bake, lists to leave for Viv and, if I got the chance, I really wanted to spend some time with my husband to convince him that Hetty’s Farmhouse Bakery could be good for us in the long term. My stomach swooped with nerves. I wouldn’t think about that now; it was Poppy’s birthday and even though we’d got up early to factor in time for breakfast and presents, we didn’t have all morning.

  ‘Can I start?’ Poppy asked through a mouthful of pancake, pulling her pile of presents towards her.

  ‘Yes, do,’ said Dan with one eye on the clock. ‘I’ve got a woman coming over early to try and sell me some new stuff for sheep scab.’

  ‘Open this one,’ I said, passing her a soft air-mail package.

  ‘Wow.’ Poppy’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as she unfolded a bikini sent by my mum.

  My angel was growing up. Her face had changed over the last year, her jaw had lost it roundness and she looked like a young woman with her defined brows and cheekbones and lovely heart-shaped face. Her body was becoming more womanly too. I could look at her all day.

  ‘Blimey, there’s not much to that, is there?’ Dan looked alarmed.

  Poppy rolled her eyes. ‘Dad, I’m a woman now, get used to it.’

  ‘Right.’ He pulled a face.

  She then ruined it by slurping from a glass of blueberry smoothie and giving herself a huge purple moustache.

  Dan and I laughed.

  ‘We have a teenager, Dan,’ I said softly, catching his eye.

  He held my gaze and nodded. ‘Yeah, I think we’re doing okay, aren’t we?’

  I reached across the table at the same time as he did. Our fingertips touched and the ripple of relief that washed over me almost emerged in a sob. He hadn’t come near me in days.

  A truce, his eyes seemed to say. At last.

  We stayed that way and watched as Poppy opened a package from Otis containing a hand-printed T-shirt with poppies on it; a build-your-own solar panel from Oscar, whose gifts were always ecology themed; new jeans and a couple of best-selling books about being a shepherd from Naomi and Tim; a pair of posh wellies from Anna and a necklace from Bart with a silver poppy hanging from it.

 

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