Coming Home to Cuckoo Cottage Read online

  ‘It’s a great field this,’ said Amber with a nod towards the few lush acres that I now owned, but hadn’t taken all that much interest in as yet. ‘Have you got any plans for it?’

  ‘No,’ I said, shaking my head and thinking back to my argument the day before. No doubt the guy who had approached me at the Cherry Tree would know exactly what to do with the land but I was trying to block him out. ‘To be honest, I haven’t even looked over it yet, but I know Mags’s son, Ed, is keen to keep coming and exploring now I’ve given him permission.’

  ‘He’s a fascinating lad,’ Amber smiled. ‘What he doesn’t know about his local patch, which is pretty vast, simply isn’t worth knowing.’

  ‘Mags told me she’s sure he’s got Durrell blood,’ I told her, thinking that the boy would probably have more of an idea about how to look after the place than I did.

  ‘That wouldn’t surprise me,’ said Amber. ‘He’s already gathered together quite a collection of furred and feathered waifs and strays.’

  ‘Have you got much land at Skylark Farm?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘A fair bit. Most of it is covered in apple orchards, but we’ve repurposed the two formerly empty meadows to raise free-range pigs. They graze on the windfalls in the autumn before they go for slaughter.’ She said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world and I realised I had a lot to learn about the realities of life in the country. ‘Perhaps you could do something similar here,’ she suggested, with a nod towards the field.

  Somehow I couldn’t see myself as a pig farmer.

  ‘Perhaps,’ I said, not wanting to dismiss her land and livestock idea completely. ‘But I think I’d better start with a couple of hens or something first.’

  ‘I might be able to help you out there,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘We have a few point of lay pullets ready to go, if you’re really keen. You could have a look at them when you come to the party.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, unwilling to admit that I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. ‘So, do you own the farm then?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘the place belongs to my partner Jake’s Auntie Annie. We live there with her and our daughter Honey.’

  ‘Well, it all sounds lovely,’ I said. ‘The perfect set-up.’

  ‘It is now,’ she said dreamily, ‘but if you’d told me a few years ago that my future revolved around living in the country, raising pigs and birthing a beautiful daughter, I never would have believed you.’

  ‘So you didn’t always want to live in the Fens then?’

  ‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I didn’t, and believe me, it’s not been easy turning around the fortunes of Skylark Farm either, but I wouldn’t change a thing. I loved the place from the very first night I arrived.’

  She called sharply to the dogs, who obediently came running with Minnie trailing behind and we all strolled back towards the cottage. As we walked, Amber explained about the farm’s other diversification projects. There was cider, made from their own apples, on an ever-increasing scale, and an income from letting out a little bungalow she had renovated and which was called Meadowview Cottage.

  I couldn’t help but admire Amber’s ambition and determination to secure the future of Skylark Farm for her daughter and wondered if I could find a really challenging diversification project for Cuckoo Cottage. Something that would utilise both my skills as well as everything the place had to offer, rather than just the barns. That would certainly show everyone who had been so quick to doubt my ability to do anything productive with the place that I was here to stay.

  I unlocked the cottage door and set about making tea while Amber gave the dogs some water outside and collected the cake from the truck.

  ‘It’s nothing fancy, I’m afraid,’ she shrugged as she handed over the tin. ‘I can manage a decent Vicky sponge, but I can’t compete with the fancy bakes Jemma whips up at The Cherry Tree Café.’

  ‘I was drooling over the cake counter in there yesterday,’ I admitted. ‘She and Lizzie have got a really thriving business, haven’t they?’

  ‘They certainly have,’ Amber agreed, ‘and do you know, now you’ve mentioned them, I think I might know what Gwen had in mind for at least one of those vans after all. You slice the cake,’ she instructed, ‘while I grab Annie’s housewarming present and then I’ll fill you in.’

  Sitting in the shade of Gwen’s beloved tree, I thanked Amber for the delectable cake and admired the red spotty jug crammed full of bright summer blooms that were Annie’s way of welcoming me to Wynbridge.

  ‘Pretty, aren’t they?’ said Amber, her head cocked to one side as she followed my gaze.

  ‘Stunning,’ I agreed.

  ‘And all grown from seed and for less than a tenner,’ she laughed. ‘Annie can’t work like she used to on the farm when she was younger, so now she’s more involved in developing the garden around the house. Cut flowers have been her new project for this year and she’s managed to fill the farmhouse and Meadowview since the beginning of May.’

  ‘Well, you certainly all sound like a resourceful bunch,’ I said, pouring us both another cup of tea. ‘I can’t seem to see my way ahead here at all. It’s all such a muddle still.’

  ‘But you only moved in a few days ago,’ Amber said kindly. ‘And you’re still grieving. Don’t be so tough on yourself. When the right thing comes along, you’ll know what it is.’

  ‘I guess you’re right,’ I sighed, ‘but one thing I am certain of is that Gwen had more of a reason for buying those vans than simply giving me the opportunity to make them look pretty.’ I leant forward and brushed the cake crumbs from my lap.

  ‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ tutted Amber, smacking herself on the forehead. ‘Sorry,’ she laughed, ‘baby brain, I’m afraid.’

  I had assumed Honey was beyond the baby stage and was about to say as much, but spotting the colour flooding Amber’s face decided not to. It was obvious that she had just unwittingly let slip something that was supposed to be a secret and it wouldn’t have been fair to pursue it.

  ‘You did say you thought you knew what Gwen had planned for one of the vans,’ I said instead.

  ‘That’s right,’ she nodded. ‘I can’t be certain, but I think it could be something to do with Jemma at the Cherry Tree.’

  ‘Well, yes,’ I said, sitting up straighter in my chair, ‘that would fit in with what Jemma said yesterday when I was asking her about Gwen using the café’s Wi-Fi. Unfortunately she didn’t get a chance to explain in any detail, but she did mention she had a “crazy idea” for the Bailey.’

  Amber nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘Occasionally we host weddings at the farm,’ she explained, weaving her own thread into the story, ‘and Jemma and Lizzie do some of the catering and quite often the styling.’

  I could imagine how beautiful the weddings would be, given how picture-perfect the café was.

  ‘And at the last one Jemma mentioned some sort of plan to expand the business. I’m sure,’ she said, frowning in concentration, ‘that she was talking about finding some sort of practical way to go mobile.’

  ‘A mobile Cherry Tree Café,’ I smiled. ‘How wonderful.’

  ‘I think that could be it,’ said Amber, ‘but don’t quote me on it. I might have completely got the wrong end of the stick, though, because let’s face it, none of those vans look anything like Cherry Tree chic, do they?’

  ‘No,’ I agreed, ‘but they could by the time I’ve finished with them.’

  If Jemma was going to ask me to transform the Bailey into some sort of tearoom on the go at least that would give me something to get stuck into while I was making up my mind about what to do with the Cheltenham vans.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I told her. ‘That was my job before I moved here, renovating caravans and campers.’

  ‘Oh wow,’ said Amber. ‘How exciting!’

  ‘It can be,’ I went on, ‘especially if you get the chance to be involved with all the finishing touch
es. Some of the interiors I’ve helped put together have been exquisite.’

  I could feel my excitement bubbling up again and something new adding to it and settling comfortingly into place as I thought back to some of the wonderful projects I had been involved in.

  ‘I’m a bit obsessed with all things retro, you see,’ I admitted, ‘especially anything from the forties and fifties.’

  ‘In that case I can’t wait to show you Meadowview Cottage,’ said Amber excitedly.

  ‘Really?’ I smiled, feeling intrigued.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she beamed. ‘I’ll give you a tour when you come to the party, but I already know you’re going to love it. It’s beautifully authentic, you see, thanks to Annie’s hoarding in the attic. The place was stuffed to the rafters with fabulous things that her family had fortunately hung on to so I could match the interior to the decade the place was built.’

  ‘Which was?’

  ‘The fifties, of course!’

  ‘Oh wow,’ I sighed. ‘That sounds like a dream renovation project. I can’t wait to see it.’

  ‘Well, who would have thought,’ laughed Amber, reaching for another slice of cake. ‘We’re like peas in a pod.’

  ‘You know what,’ I agreed, looking at her, then around the garden and back towards the barns, ‘I think we probably are.’

  It was late afternoon before Amber rounded up the dogs ready to head back to the farm.

  ‘Well, it’s been wonderful to meet you,’ she said, pulling me in for another hug. ‘And I’m delighted we have so much in common.’

  ‘Same here,’ I said, giving her a squeeze. ‘And I really appreciate the visit. I have to admit I was feeling a bit nervous about just turning up to the party of someone I didn’t even know, but now I’m really looking forward to it.’

  ‘Well, that’s good,’ she said. ‘It can be lonely living out in the Fen. I have Jake and Annie and Honey, of course, but even I feel it sometimes. We are very much on our own out here, but I won’t begin the “you need to get yourself a car” lecture, because from what I’ve heard, you’re already familiar with that one!’

  I didn’t bother asking how she knew.

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said, ‘I’m expecting a fleet of potential little runabouts to land on the drive any day now.’

  Amber rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘Bless you,’ she smiled, ‘try not to let everyone’s interference get you down,’ she added. ‘Most of them mean well.’

  ‘Oh, I know,’ I said, trying not to think of what the rest meant, ‘and I do appreciate it, it’s just taking some getting used to.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, loading the dogs into the back of the truck. ‘It’s bound to.’

  I watched enviously as she made a competent three-point turn.

  ‘I’ll see you Saturday,’ she called, ‘and we’ll definitely have a look around the bungalow and sort you out with those hens.’

  ‘Great,’ I swallowed, wondering what on earth I was letting myself in for on the fowl front. ‘See you then.’

  Chapter 12

  The heart-warming and considerate visit from Amber, who was not only a fellow vintage and upcycling enthusiast, but also an ambitious and driven woman, was perfectly timed to crank my own plans up a notch. Before she came I knew it would have been all too easy for me to satisfy my critics by sitting back and watching the summer unfold, then heading blindly into autumn having achieved nothing more than paying someone to install a new shower and fuse box, but I was determined not to let that be my only achievement now.

  During the next couple of days I began to make a list, not the usual washing-up liquid and loaf of bread kind of list, like the one I still had from Gwen on the hall table, but a thrilling and motivated ‘things I could do with this place’ version. Listening to Amber talk so passionately about the makeover she had given Meadowview, along with everything else that she and Jake had achieved at Skylark Farm, I realised she was an entrepreneur with a heart, who had maximised the potential of what she had to hand, and I hoped very much that I would be able to achieve the same at Cuckoo Cottage. As I scribbled away on my notepad, I couldn’t help thinking that Gwen and Gran would have been proud of this creative and determined upsurge and I imagined the pair of them looking over my shoulder and smiling like a pair of pensionable guardian angels.

  I was both intrigued and excited by the idea of creating a mobile Cherry Tree Café and resolved to cycle back to Wynbridge, in spite of feeling nervous about facing more scrutiny and hostility. I wanted to find out if Amber was right about Jemma’s plan for the Bailey, and if she was, I hoped she would be happy to offer me the project so I could begin straightaway.

  For the first time since I arrived at Cuckoo Cottage I could see myself actually achieving something with real clarity and, if Jemma agreed to my suggestions, I could set about repurposing that little van and getting my creative juices flowing again. I was sure that once I was back in the zone other ideas would soon follow and with any luck I would hit upon the idea of how to combine vintage caravans, empty barns and a couple of acres into something wonderfully worthwhile that the locals couldn’t possibly object to.

  ‘Amber told us you’re planning to have a few hens,’ called Mags as she pulled on to the drive.

  She and Ed had taken to popping in every day, either just after breakfast or before teatime, depending on how long it had taken Ed to get everything together for his day of adventuring. Harriet and Rachel’s nursery, Mags had explained, was on land that used to belong to Harriet’s father’s farm and included ‘The Pit’ which, once literally a hole in the ground, was now a vast pond teeming with bulrushes, birdlife and all manner of aquatic delights. It was the perfect environment for Ed to indulge his passions and consequently the little yellow minivan was always packed with nets, jars, buckets and boxes and, of course, one belligerent Jackdaw. Today, however, the load in the back looked a little different.

  ‘Oh, did she now?’ I said, leaving my notepad on the table in the shade to go and see what it was that Mags was chauffeuring.

  ‘That is right, isn’t it?’ she asked, climbing out and opening the back doors. ‘That’s why we’ve come to give you this.’

  ‘It’s my spare,’ explained Ed, as he and his mother manhandled a neat little chicken coop on to the drive. ‘I thought I could help you set it up.’

  ‘Well, in that case,’ I smiled, ‘yes. I’m having some hens.’

  Minnie skittered unhelpfully around our feet as we lugged the pretty little wooden house about looking for the best spot.

  ‘There’s a run that goes with it,’ puffed Mags, ‘but we couldn’t get it all in in one trip. I really do need to get a bigger van,’ she mused.

  ‘Do you think I’ll need a run as well?’ I grimaced, as we awkwardly manoeuvred the coop towards the side of the greenhouse. ‘Can’t I just let them run free?’

  ‘Foxes,’ said Ed with a shake of his curly head. ‘You don’t want to lose the hens as soon as you’ve got them. Let them start off in the run and then think about giving them a wider area to explore when you’re here.’

  ‘OK,’ I said, grateful for his practical advice and knowledge. ‘Right.’

  ‘I’ll set the run up if you like,’ he said. ‘I built it myself so I know how to put it back together really quickly. It’s a kind of flat-pack contraption. It would be no bother.’

  ‘As with most things at our place, it’s a bit Heath Robinson, but Ed’s done a great job,’ said Mags proudly. ‘As always.’

  ‘Super,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’

  At least I knew who I could turn to should I find myself struggling with the intricacies of amateur hen-keeping; Ed was clearly an expert. Once satisfied that we had found the perfect position, he disappeared into the field with Minnie, and Mags and I sliced up the rest of Amber’s delicious cake to have with the bottle of apple juice she had kindly sent for me to sample.

  ‘So have you hit upon your big idea yet?’ Mags asked, with a
nod to my notepad and pen.

  I hadn’t expected to make such firm friends so quickly, but both Amber and Mags had been so helpful and kind that I found myself, although usually more guarded, ‘letting them in’ and had consequently shown both of them the vans now. Just as I had with Amber earlier in the week, I had also explained to Mags that Gwen had acquired them with me in mind, but beyond renovating them I was clueless as to what the ‘grand plan’ was.

  ‘Not yet,’ I sighed.

  ‘You need to get out more,’ she said, pouring juice and eyeing me shrewdly. ‘Broaden your horizons.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I asked, taking a long sip of the tangy, apple-infused essence.

  ‘Well, it isn’t good for you, is it?’ she said. ‘Being stuck here all day with only that rusty old bike to take you as far as your legs can pedal, you’ll never make any progress like that.’

  ‘But I see you and Ed every day,’ I reminded her, ‘and Amber has called in and Matt’s coming to look at what needs doing to the cottage. I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.’

  ‘He’s the nettle guy, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, trying not to meet her eye.

  ‘Another dish,’ she said wistfully.

  ‘Another?’

  ‘Will,’ she reminded me with a playful smile. ‘A pretty girl like you, Lottie, you’re going to be fighting them off soon.’

  ‘Except you’re forgetting one thing,’ I reminded her.

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I can’t stand the sight of Will, no matter how dishy he is, and Matt and I are strictly business, nothing more.’

  She looked at me and waggled her eyebrows.

  ‘Besides,’ I said firmly, ‘like I told Chris, I don’t want or need a man right now. I’m far too busy trying to work out what I’m going to do with my own life to have to factor someone else’s into it.’