A Taste of Home Page 12
‘That’s right,’ I nodded.
‘What, where Bill Brown lives?’ asked his younger colleague.
‘That’s the place,’ I reiterated, rifling through my bag for my purse.
‘I’m not sure his account is up to date,’ said the chap at the till.
He looked embarrassed and I wondered if Grandad had a hefty bill to settle. I didn’t ask, just in case. Thankfully, I could easily run to paying for the things I’d ordered.
‘I don’t want to put anything on account,’ I smiled. ‘I’ll pay for my order and I’m guessing free delivery is all part of the wonderful Anderson service I’ve been hearing so much about, isn’t it?’
‘As you’re paying today and the farm is only just out of our free drop off zone, then that will be fine,’ said the younger man, sounding relieved. ‘We can have it with you first thing Monday morning, if that suits.’
‘That’s perfect,’ I told them. ‘Thank you very much.’
I could tell they were gearing up to ask what my connection to the farm was and headed off before they had the chance.
The walk into town led me near the library and, as it was open, I ducked inside, keen to find out exactly what ID and paperwork I would need to sign up.
‘You wouldn’t happen to be Bill Brown’s granddaughter, would you?’ asked the woman on the desk when I enquired.
‘Yes,’ I frowned. ‘I am. How did you know that?’
‘He phoned earlier,’ she smiled. ‘He said you might pop in and that even though you couldn’t register with us yet, you’d appreciate access to a computer for a few minutes. Is that right?’
‘It is,’ I said. ‘Is that going to be possible?’
‘If I override the system,’ she winked. ‘I wouldn’t usually but as you’re a relative of Bill’s, I’ll make an exception.’
I thanked her profusely, then composed a lengthy email to the Rossi clan, explaining more about what had happened since my arrival, what Grandad was like, what the farm was like and finally, and with my breath held, that I wouldn’t be back in Puglia for quite some time.
It made no sense to hold my breath, we weren’t having a conversation and I wasn’t going to see his reaction, but I had the image of Marco in my head from the day I had left, urging me to go back practically on the return flight. I hoped he would understand my decision to want to get to know Fenview Farm and Grandad better. I knew Nonna and Alessandro would, so if he was upset, they’d hopefully be able to appease him. I was relying on them to pave the way for me to break the news that I might well want to stay in the Fens for ever.
With the explanation re-read and finally sent, and my heart rate steadying after the surprise of acknowledging the possibility of staying at the farm for good, I thanked the librarian again and carried on into the town centre. My stomach growled as soon as I caught sight of the Cherry Tree Café and I hoped the place had a good selection of cakes.
‘How did you find Andersons?’ Bec asked, almost before I was through the door.
‘It was great,’ I said, as my gaze swivelled around to take in the pastel spring themed interior and my nose picked up the sweet scent of warm pastries and hot coffee. ‘Wow,’ I grinned, ‘this place is divine.’
‘Wait until you taste one of Jemma’s cakes,’ said Bec. ‘Then you really will be in seventh heaven. Did you get everything you needed?’
‘Yes,’ I said, still looking about me, ‘and they’re going to deliver it all free of charge, which is a bonus.’
‘You must have charmed them with those long, tanned legs of yours,’ she said, giving me a nudge.
‘It wasn’t my legs,’ I whispered. ‘They were so shocked when I gave them the farm address that I took advantage of the moment and kind of railroaded them into it.’
‘Did you tell them who you are?’ she asked, steering me to an empty seat and handing me a menu.
‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to announce myself until I’ve had a chance to talk it all through with Grandad and we’ve decided what we’re going to say. With what’s happened to Mum it isn’t going to be easy for him, so I’ll be guided by what he wants.’
Even though he’d told his friend at the library about me, I still wanted to talk to him before I started saying anything.
‘Right,’ said Bec. ‘Of course.’
I couldn’t help noticing she’d turned a little pink.
‘So,’ she said, flicking open her order pad and pulling my thoughts back to my rumbling tum. ‘What can I get you?’
I eventually settled on a trio of fruit and cream cheese breakfast pastries and strong coffee to accompany them. They were absolutely delicious. The pastry was crisp, the cheese was soft and the tang of the fruit cut through the sweetness, creating the perfect balance.
‘What did you think?’ asked the woman who cleared my empty plate, poured me more coffee and introduced herself as Jemma, the café owner.
‘Scrumptious,’ I told her. ‘Delicious.’
She flushed with pride.
‘They’re a new addition,’ she explained. ‘And they’re going down a storm.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘The only thing I’m not happy about is the fruit,’ she quietly said. ‘I’m trying to buy local, but the commercial farms all supply in such large quantities. They won’t take smaller orders.’
She sat down in the chair opposite mine and her smile grew.
‘I don’t suppose you’d be able to help me out with that, would you? Bec mentioned that you’ve just moved to Fenview Farm. You’re Bill’s granddaughter, aren’t you?’
I looked across to where Bec was standing. She looked even pinker than before and I guessed she’d let the cat out of the bag. She looked so upset that it felt impossible to be cross with her, especially as she might have found the farm some new business.
‘To tell you the truth,’ Jemma continued, ‘I wasn’t sure the farm was still trading, but Chris Dempster who sells fruit and veg on the market has told me its’s still operational and that last year he and Jake at Skylark Farm took most of the crops to sell on your Grandad’s behalf.’
‘It certainly is still operational and we grow a whole range of fruit,’ I told her. ‘We’ve got apples, pears, plums, a few cherries, strawberries and a good range of other soft fruit.’
‘That sounds perfect,’ she said, her eyes sparkling. ‘Just what I was hoping. I want to supply seasonal and local in here and I’m looking to forge permanent links with a reputable small-scale grower. I’m willing to adapt the menu to whatever’s available and if that’s only for a short while, then that’s fine too, because it will make it even more special.’
‘But what about things like the pastries I’ve just had?’ I asked. ‘Won’t you want to sell those all year round?’
‘Well yes,’ she said. ‘But I have enough freezer capacity to make that possible.’
She certainly sounded like she’d got it all worked out and it was obvious her business was thriving. In the time I’d been sitting there, the place had filled to capacity, as had the tables outside.
‘So, what do you think?’ she asked, her voice full of hope. ‘Do you think we could strike a deal where Fenview Farm supplies the Cherry Tree Café fruit? It sounds like a winning combination to me.’
It sounded like a winning combination to me too. I was excited at the prospect of working with this clever and clearly competent business woman.
‘I’ll have to talk to my grandfather,’ I told her, reining my feelings in and erring on the side of caution. It wasn’t my place to sign the harvest away, even though I was tempted to. ‘Just to be certain he hasn’t got contracts lined up elsewhere, but I’m sure we could come to some arrangement.’
‘Fantastic,’ she smiled, as a woman with red curls came bouncing over the café threshold and set the bell above the door jangling wildly. ‘And there’s no real rush. As long as I can get my hands on some fresh, local strawberries, I’ll be happy. They must be well on their way to ripening
now.’
I smiled back, my heart skipping at the thought of what this opportunity could do for Fenview. If we could form a lasting collaboration with the café, then it could make a big difference to the farm and really raise its profile.
‘Sorry I’ve taken so long,’ said the curly haired woman, who was dressed in a pretty floral tea dress which clashed gloriously with her hair. ‘I’m having a total mare this morning.’
‘This is Lizzie,’ Jemma said to me. ‘My business partner and she isn’t usually so flustered. Whatever’s the matter?’ she asked, turning to her friend.
Lizzie stood with her hands on her hips and explained. Her other half, Ben, had booked a table at a restaurant they had been trying to get into for months but the local taxi firm had let them down and they’d had to cancel because they had no transport. Their own car was in the garage awaiting repairs so they couldn’t get there under their own steam.
‘You didn’t need to do that,’ said Jemma. ‘Tom would have driven you.’
‘But you’ve got that event at school tonight,’ said Lizzie. ‘So that wouldn’t have worked.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘It’s too late now and besides, we wouldn’t have wanted to eat knowing we were on a timer because he was waiting to ferry us home.’
‘I suppose not,’ said Jemma.
‘What we need,’ Lizzie pouted, ‘is somewhere nice to eat around here in the evenings. The pub and other places are all well and good, but I want something a bit different every now and again. Something unique.’
‘Well,’ said Jemma, standing up. ‘I’m not opening in the evenings. It’s all I can do to drag myself home at the end of the day.’
‘I wasn’t meaning here,’ said Lizzie. ‘It would be nice to occasionally get out of town, wouldn’t it? But not so far that it’s a hassle to get back again.’
Having promised to talk to Grandad about the harvest, I left them dreaming about exclusive evening eateries. Jemma had refused to let me pay for either the pastries or the coffee.
‘Consider it an incentive,’ she had winked. ‘A little sweetener.’
I thanked her, and feeling comfortably full, headed to the supermarket to stock up on essentials and to the market for everything else. Just as had happened the weekend before, I was soon weighed down with bags and couldn’t help wishing I had transport of my own.
There was no sign of the taxi in the designated bay and even though Bec had generously offered to run me home when she finished her shift, I didn’t really want to have to wait that long. I had just decided to go back to the café and see if anyone had a number for the cab firm, when I felt a light tap on my shoulder.
‘You’re either running like the wind, or crawling at a glacial pace because you’re weighed down with bags,’ laughed Mr Helpful. ‘I never know which version of you I’m going to run into. You’re a woman of extremes.’
‘What can I say,’ I told him. ‘At least I’m not predictable.’
‘You’re certainly not that. I don’t suppose you fancy a drink?’ he offered, nodding over to the pub.
‘It’s a bit early, isn’t it?’
‘A bite of lunch in the café then?’
‘All right,’ I said, resigned to the fact that I wasn’t getting back to the farm anytime soon. ‘Thank you. I was actually just heading over there to see my friend.’
‘Yet again our planets seem to have aligned,’ he said, flashing me a smile before taking some of the bags.
I didn’t point out that he had suggested the pub, while I had been aiming for the café.
‘Back again so soon,’ Jemma said to me. ‘There’s a table just about to clear in the far corner, if you don’t mind waiting.’
The place was still so busy, I thought we were lucky to get seated at all.
‘Everything all right?’ asked Bec as she rushed over. She was talking to me but very definitely looking at my companion. ‘Do you want me to put your bags in the car?’ she offered when she finally dragged her gaze back to me.
‘I’ve got fridge stuff in this one,’ I said, holding it up.
‘I’ll ask Jemma if there’s room in the storeroom fridge. It isn’t used for business supplies, so it should be all right.’
She disappeared with all of the bags and the guy I still only knew as Mr Helpful, and I, squeezed around the tiny table.
‘I take it you’ve already been in here today?’ he asked. ‘Jemma obviously knows you.’
‘I popped in earlier,’ I told him. ‘But I’m happy to be back again. The food was amazing.’
‘It always is,’ he said, handing me a lunch menu.
‘You know, I still don’t know your name,’ I said, feeling suddenly self-conscious.
‘It’s Anthony,’ he grinned. ‘Anthony Judd.’
‘Anthony,’ I repeated. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, properly at last, and I’m…’
‘Fliss,’ he interrupted. ‘Felicity Brown.’
I couldn’t ask immediately how he’d found that out, because an older lady, wearing a cupcake patterned apron, came over to take our order.
‘So, how do you know my name?’ I asked, the second she’d gone. ‘I’ve hardly announced myself to the town. Was it Bec?’
I hardly thought it would have come from Grandad’s friend at the library or the doctor or Vicky, and Eliot and Louise certainly wouldn’t have said anything. Bec however, did have something of a track record now.
‘You needn’t sound so put out,’ he laughed. ‘There aren’t any secrets around here and no, it wasn’t your friend.’
I wondered if he’d heard anything else about me other than my name from whoever he’d talked to. With Grandad still coming to terms with what had happened to Mum, I didn’t like the thought of her demise being town gossip. She might have left a long time ago, but there were bound to be people around who still remembered her as well as her dramatic exit.
‘And you aren’t squatting at Fenview Farm,’ Anthony carried on. ‘You’re staying there with your grandfather, who you’ve only just met.’
I was flabbergasted.
‘How do you know that?’ I demanded, frustrated with trying to puzzle it out.
‘I never reveal my sources,’ he whispered, flashing me what he no doubt thought was another winning smile.
But it didn’t win me.
‘Oh dear,’ he said, the smile vanishing, when he realised, I wasn’t impressed. ‘I’ve upset you.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ I said. ‘It’s fine. I just don’t like being the subject of gossip.’
‘I didn’t mean to speak out of turn,’ he quickly said. ‘And there was no gossiping. You are Fliss Brown, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘So why the cloak and dagger? Don’t you want anyone to know?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not yet. As you pointed out, I’ve only just arrived and I was hoping to settle in and get to know Grandad and the farm before I was subjected to local scrutiny.’
As he hadn’t mentioned Mum, I didn’t either.
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I’m very sorry.’
‘I don’t suppose it really matters,’ I told him, doing my best not to sound upset. ‘You just took me by surprise, that’s all.’
With a farm to run I knew it would have been impossible to stay under the radar and keep my identity a secret for long, and therefore there didn’t seem to be much point in staying cross with Anthony, even though he had caught me off guard.
It had been just the same in the small town closest to the farm in Puglia. No one passed through there without being noticed and I guessed it was the same in Wynbridge. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing but it did make me feel a bit exposed, sitting in the busy café, eating lunch with a handsome stranger.
‘Sure?’ he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.
‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘I’m sure. Word was bound to get around, wasn’t it?’
‘Afraid so,’ he agreed. ‘But I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Exactly,’ he smiled.
After lunch, he offered to drop me back at the farm so I wouldn’t have to ring for a taxi or wait until Bec finished.
She gave me a knowing look as she handed me back my bags of shopping.
‘I don’t blame you swapping the Banana-mobile for Mr Helpful,’ she grinned.
‘It’s not like that,’ I tutted. ‘He said he’s heading that way anyway.’
‘Yeah, right,’ she snorted.
‘And his name’s Anthony.’
‘Ooh,’ she said. ‘Progress.’
‘Well I could hardly have lunch with him and not ask his name, could I?’ I said, returning her reaction with an eye-roll.
‘I suppose not,’ she agreed.
‘Thank you for the lift earlier and would you thank Jemma for me when you get a chance?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Bec. ‘What were you two talking about earlier? I hope I didn’t put my foot in it saying who you were.’
If supplying fruit for the café came off, then she would have definitely done the farm a favour, but I wasn’t going to tell her what her boss had in mind. I needed to talk to Grandad first. It wouldn’t be professional to go talking about the deal even before it was done.
‘I meant, would you thank her for the pastries, that was all.’
‘Yeah right,’ Bec said again, though that time without the accompanying snort.
It was mid-afternoon when I arrived back at the farm and I was worried I’d left Grandad for too long. If only I had my own transport, I would be able to make much shorter trips to town.
‘Looks like you’ve got company,’ said Anthony as he swung into the drive.
Eliot’s Ducati was parked up and my heart skipped at the sight of it. Then I began to panic. Had he popped in to pay a random social visit, or had Grandad called him because he’d had a fall? My heart thrummed all the harder as I fumbled to get out of the car.
‘Are you all right?’ Anthony asked.
‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘Of course. Let’s get the bags.’
I swiftly shifted them from the boot to the back door, said a speedy thank you and goodbye and rushed inside. Anthony looked rather taken aback by my hasty dismissal but didn’t appear inclined to hang about either. In fact, he’d driven off almost before I’d crossed the kitchen.