A Taste of Home Read online

  ‘No,’ I said, fussing with the cushion on the chair, to avoid looking at him. ‘I’ve only been in the spare room and the bathroom.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, his gaze returning to the window. ‘Now we’ve finally established who you are, feel free to have a proper look about the place, won’t you?’

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, pulling myself together and trying not to think how heartbreaking it was going to be to tell him what had happened to Mum. ‘I will.’

  I didn’t mention that I’d looked over the farm, and in the barn, already and I didn’t say that I’d leave exploring Mum’s room for a bit longer either. I had no idea what I would find in there, but I certainly wasn’t ready to face it yet.

  ‘There is one thing I want to see,’ I said, rushing back to the kitchen and drying my eyes before returning with some scissors and a jar filled with water.

  I leant out of the open window and gasped at the sight of the roses which scaled the height of the house and were in full bloom. They were a riot of colour and the scent, intensified by the strengthening sunshine, was intoxicating.

  ‘Wow,’ I gasped.

  The jars in the kitchen were full of flowers cut from the front of the house and they were lovely, but I knew another one filled with roses would look, and smell, even better.

  ‘You like those, do you?’ Grandad laughed.

  ‘Just a bit! Did you plant them?’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Not me. They were Felicity’s passion. The whole garden was, not that there’s much of it left. Whenever one of her roses has died off though, I’ve always replaced it like for like. It’s been my way of keeping her floral legacy alive.’

  I began to realise that every conversation we were destined to share was going to have an emotional undercurrent running through it. There was so much for me to learn and catch up on. Not least Grandad’s explanation of the circumstances surrounding Mum’s departure.

  ‘Can I cut some of the roses?’ I asked, again pushing the thought of the revelatory moments away. ‘For you to have in here.’

  ‘Of course,’ Grandad keenly agreed. ‘And we can take them upstairs tonight.’

  Once I’d filled the jar with the yellow, red, pink and peach scented roses, and embellished it further with lime green Alchemilla mollis, I turned my attention to Grandad’s bedroom. The décor was dated with lots of eighties pine furniture and floral sprigged Laura Ashley style prints, but I had expected that because it was similar to the spare room, but what I wasn’t prepared for were the shelves full of framed photographs.

  ‘Mum,’ I murmured, picking up one of her in her late teens.

  There were eighteen photos in total, one for each year of Mum’s life before she left, I guessed. I lightly ran my fingers over the frame of the last one, wondering if she might have been pregnant with me when it was taken. The last three or four were classic moody teenage shots. She looked a bit begrudging to be facing the camera, unlike in the early ones where she was all smiles. What had changed? What was it that had turned her off the farm and indeed, away from her father?

  ‘Hello!’ called a voice up the stairs, making me jump. ‘Are you there, Felicity?’

  It was Louise.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I’m here.’

  As I reached the bottom of the stairs, she pulled me in for a hug.

  ‘Have you seen Eliot?’ I asked, blinking away the tears her kind gesture prompted, when she finally let me go.

  ‘I haven’t seen him,’ she said, offering me a tissue. ‘But he called to tell me that Bill had sussed out who you are and he wanted me to ring and check everything was okay. He’s not going to be able to get back himself, so I decided to pop in in person.’

  ‘That was kind of him,’ I said. ‘And you.’

  ‘I’m not sure if he really is all that busy,’ Louise admitted, biting her lip, ‘or if he wanted to give you and Bill some space.’

  Kinder still, but then I wouldn’t have expected anything less of Eliot.

  ‘So,’ said Louise, studying my face. ‘How’s it going?’

  I didn’t get the chance to tell her that Grandad and I were getting along wonderfully but that I still hadn’t found the moment, or mustered the courage, to tell him about Mum.

  ‘Are you two going to be out there whispering all day?’ Grandad shouted from the dining room. ‘Come in here. I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Sorry, Bill,’ said Louise. ‘We’re on our way.’

  * * *

  ‘What I’d really like to know,’ Grandad said to me, once we, and the cat, were settled with tea and a slice of delicious shop-bought cake which Louise had arrived with, ‘is why you’ve decided to come and find me now. Why didn’t you come before?’

  This was it then. This was the moment everything was going to be revealed. I was grateful for both Louise’s kind and encouraging smile and the boost my blood sugar was receiving courtesy of the sweet slice of sponge. I pressed my hand against the pocket where Mum’s letters and Nonna’s recipe still rested, protecting my heart as best they could.

  ‘Because,’ I began, ‘I didn’t know about you before. I only found out about you and the farm very recently.’

  Grandad nodded. ‘Your mother didn’t talk to you about me or this place or her mother while you were growing up then?’

  ‘No,’ I huskily said. ‘I’m afraid not. If she had, I most likely would have come a long time ago.’

  I couldn’t promise that though, because when I’d first read Mum’s letter, I’d been adamant that I wouldn’t come, but then, it hadn’t taken me long to change my mind, had it?

  ‘So, where has she ended up then?’ Grandad asked. ‘With your father?’

  I noticed Louise shift in her seat. Clearly, Grandad had known more than she thought.

  ‘No,’ I swallowed. ‘Mum didn’t find him. He’d given her a false Italian address when they parted after their holiday, so that turned out to be impossible.’

  ‘And yet she still chose not to come home when she realised that,’ he said. ‘She preferred to make her life and yours elsewhere.’

  He sounded incredibly sad and my heart broke for him.

  ‘I’m ashamed to say, I was furious when I found out she was pregnant,’ he carried on. ‘I should have taken time to get used to the idea before I spoke to her about it, but I was so upset and scared. I’d struggled to cope with her wayward behaviour after Felicity died and I knew I’d let her get away with too much.’

  ‘You can’t blame yourself for her behaviour, Bill,’ said Louise. ‘She was a law unto herself. And I had no idea that you knew she was pregnant when she left.’

  ‘Loving fathers don’t miss much,’ he sniffed. ‘I also knew that you knew too Louise, but I appreciated that we never talked about it. It would have made it all so much harder if we had.’

  ‘That’s very generous of you,’ said Louise, looking misty eyed.

  ‘No point holding a grudge,’ he shrugged. ‘And like I said, our silence did make things a little easier.’

  ‘Mum did settle in Italy,’ I said, wanting him to know that she had made something of her life. ‘Well, she had a base there. On a farm which belongs to the Rossi family. For the most part it was where I grew up. They mainly grow cherries and olives…’

  ‘She settled on a farm?’ Grandad gasped, his eyes wide. ‘Well, I never. She always despised this place because it stopped us taking summer holidays and meant working long hours and yet she willingly settled on someone else’s where it would have been just the same.’

  I looked at Louise and bit my lip. Rather than make things better, I was just making them worse and the hardest part was still to come.

  ‘You’re forgetting how much she hated the British weather,’ said Louise, trying to lighten the moment, but it didn’t help.

  ‘She didn’t stay there all the time,’ I rushed on, keen to make amends. ‘As I said, it was more of a base. More often than not she was off travelling. It was her ambition to visit every country in the w
orld. I used to go with her when I was younger, but then I began to work properly for the Rossis…’

  ‘Fliss,’ said Grandad, putting up a hand to stop me. ‘Can I just ask you something?’

  ‘Of course,’ I swallowed.

  I looked at Louise again. Her head was bowed and I realised I must have made another mistake.

  ‘You just said this farm in Italy was a base for Jennifer and that it was her ambition to visit every country.’

  ‘That’s right,’ I nodded.

  ‘Why isn’t it now?’

  For the second time since I’d arrived, the world ground to a halt. Without realising, I’d been talking about Mum in the past tense.

  ‘Because she’s dead, Bill,’ said Louise, reaching for my hand and saving me from having to say the words. ‘She’s not with us anymore.’

  ‘Is this true?’ Grandad asked, looking to me.

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded, my voice barely audible. ‘It is. She died of cancer a few weeks ago and she left me a letter telling me the name of this place and where it was and that she wanted me to come and find you.’

  A sob escaped Grandad’s lips and I pulled my hand from Louise’s grasp and rushed to his bedside.

  ‘My girl has gone?’ he choked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said again. ‘She’s gone. I’m so sorry.’

  I don’t know how long we sat, our hands tightly clasped together, but the sun had long since left the room by the time Grandad spoke again. Like mine and Louise’s, his tears had flowed freely the whole time we were quiet and it was a relief to witness it.

  The last thing he needed to do was bottle his grief up. He didn’t strike me as the type to display his emotions, he was a proper old country boy, and even though it was tough to see his stiff upper lip disappear, it was a godsend too.

  ‘I searched for her you know,’ he eventually said, his voice raspy. ‘And I never gave up hope that one day she’d come back. I hate the thought of her still hating me all the way to her grave.’

  ‘I don’t think she did, Grandad,’ I said, pulling out and handing him Mum’s letter. ‘She left this for you. If it’s anything like mine, it will hopefully explain a few things.’

  He took it from me and I passed him the glasses on the little table next to his bed. It was too late for Mum to change anything inside the envelope now, but I hoped her letter answered Grandad’s questions and gave him some of the peace and acceptance he so sorely needed.

  ‘Another letter,’ he swallowed. ‘I hope it says more than the note she left when she disappeared.’

  ‘We’ll leave you to read it, Bill,’ said Louise, standing up. ‘Come on Fliss, love,’ she added, holding out her hand.

  ‘Before you go,’ said Grandad just as we reached the door. ‘Tell me Fliss, are you in a rush to get back to this farm in Italy?’

  ‘That depends,’ I told him.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On whether or not you’d like me to stay here for a while.’

  ‘I’d very much like you to stay,’ he said, without a moment’s hesitation. ‘And for much longer than a while, if you’d like to.’

  ‘I’d like that very much,’ I said, crossing the room again and giving him another hug.

  I know I’d promised Marco that I’d be back in time to work over the summer season, but that wasn’t going to happen now and I hoped he wouldn’t mind. I knew Nonna and Alessandro would be thrilled so hopefully they’d be able to talk him round.

  ‘Good,’ Grandad sniffed, as he patted my back. ‘I’m pleased about that, because from what I’ve heard you saying to Eliot, there’s plenty here to keep you occupied if you think you’re up to it.’

  ‘Oh, I am,’ I told him, kissing his damp, whiskery cheek. ‘I’m more than up to it.’

  ‘Fancy yourself as a bit of a fruit farmer, do you?’ he smiled through his tears.

  ‘I do have a certain amount of experience in the field,’ I smiled back.

  ‘In that case,’ he said, with a wobbly smile, ‘I think both Fenview Farm and I are in very safe hands.’

  Chapter 9

  A downturn in the weather put the brakes on me starting any work on the farm for the next few days. Not that I had ever been a fair-weather worker, but according to the forecast it was going to be reasonably short-lived and wouldn’t hamper me for too long, and therefore I took the opportunity to sort a few things in the house and spend some quality time with Grandad instead. We had soon got the measure of the stairs and having safely made the first ascent we were, if not quite zipping up and down, then gathering pace.

  Grandad hadn’t shared the details of what Mum had put in her letter and obviously I wasn’t going to ask, but he seemed soothed by it and even though we both shed more tears after he had read it, they weren’t as intense as those that had previously fallen.

  Before I’d experienced it for myself, I had no idea that grief was so draining and all consuming, but I was beginning to understand what Louise had meant when she had told me it becomes a part of you. The pain of losing Mum was still prevalent, still very much in evidence, but the ache had dulled a little.

  Grandad and I didn’t go in for heart to heart conversations, but rather quietly felt our way, often focusing on the comfort of domestic tasks, eating the delicious Italian dishes I had already prepared and always with the windows thrown open. The gentle pitter patter of rain which formed the backdrop to the next few days was like a soothing ASMR soundtrack and I was comforted by it as I settled into the house.

  The only thing missing was Eliot but he had telephoned, in lieu of not making it back to the farm thanks to the continuing staff shortage, which he assured me was genuine in spite of what Louise had said. He promised he would visit again soon and was happy that Grandad was in safe hands, even if he wasn’t feeling quite so content about other things.

  ‘I feel as though I’m failing you, Fliss,’ was the first thing he said when Grandad handed the phone over one day. ‘I told you I’d be there for you and Bill and now I’m not.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I told him and I meant it. ‘I think it’s good for Grandad and I to have this time to ourselves to readjust and now we’ve decided that I’m going to be here for a while, there’s going to be plenty of time for you to be my friend in the weeks to come.’

  He brightened at that and I found myself again wishing that we could be more than friends. That pesky spark refused to remain extinguished and I was constantly on the lookout for further distraction to stop it catching my eye.

  ‘You know what,’ Grandad said, after a few nights back in his own bed. ‘I feel like a new man. It’s been weeks since I had such a good sleep. I know it’s going to take me a while to get to grips with what’s happened to my Jennifer, but at least now I know, don’t I? There’s no more wondering and wishing.’

  ‘That’s very true,’ I agreed.

  ‘And there was comfort in that letter she wrote,’ he sniffed, confirming my thoughts. ‘I thought she’d gone through life hating me, but she hadn’t at all.’

  I couldn’t help wishing that Mum had had the sense to tell him that years ago, but there was no point in feeling bitter. It wouldn’t change the past and we needed to focus on the future. It was reassuring to know that Grandad could move forward with his life with the blanks now filled in. It must have been so difficult to cope and carry on with that great big gap always nagging away in the background.

  ‘I’m so pleased it’s helped,’ I said, looking at him properly and feeling relieved that I had decided to come to Fenview Farm, rather than pretend I’d never read any of what Mum had written to me.

  He looked so much better for the combination of reading Mum’s final words and the undisturbed rest. Nothing like the dazed and confused old man I had upset just a few days before, and I was feeling happier too. I had enjoyed putting the dining room back in order and getting to know the house. Although, that said, the brief peek I had taken into Mum’s old room had come as a shock.

  I hadn’t gone right inside
but I hadn’t needed to to see that the place was a shrine. From the arrangement on the dressing table to the posters on the walls, I knew it was exactly as Mum had left it and a lump had formed in my throat as I thought of Grandad carefully tending and dusting, perhaps dreaming of her return to the fold. I knew we would need to talk about what to do with it at some point, but not yet.

  ‘The forecast looks set to improve by the weekend,’ Grandad said as I cleared our lunch dishes away.

  I had been thrilled when he told me he was very much enjoying having his menu expanded and he certainly always looked replete. He had eagerly finished up every dish I had served as a result of my spree in the Wynbridge deli. I’d cooked spaghetti with rich tomato sauce that day and he’d mopped up every trace with a crust of garlic enhanced bread.

  ‘Thank goodness for that,’ I said, peering out the door. ‘I’m getting desperate to know the outside of Fenview Farm as well as the inside.’

  Grandad looked pleased.

  ‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘Our little patch of the Fens needs you Fliss, and you do like it, don’t you?’

  I was touched that he had referred to the spot as ‘ours’ and I could feel those tender roots I’d imagined before, pushing their way further down.

  ‘I’m completely smitten,’ I told him. ‘But to tell you the truth, I’m still struggling to come to terms with Mum leaving this place behind. It’s absolutely idyllic in my eyes.’

  Grandad was quiet for a moment and I hoped I hadn’t upset him. I didn’t want to have to spend my time here not talking about Mum. She had been as real to me as she had been to Grandad and even though our relationships with her had been very different, I felt it was important to keep her memory alive.

  ‘Yes, well,’ he sighed. ‘You and your mum see things differently, don’t you? And the pair of you are very different.’

  ‘That’s true,’ I nodded. For a start, there was Mum’s flighty spirit which was the polar opposite to my stay-at-home one. ‘We never really were peas in a pod.’

  Grandad readily agreed with that.