A Taste of Home Page 13

  The sound of laughter met my ears and I let out the breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding.

  ‘Felicity,’ smiled Grandad, when he looked up and saw me in the doorway. ‘We’ve got company.’

  ‘So I see,’ I beamed, looking from him to Eliot.

  My heart carried on thumping just as fast, but I tried to kid myself that was because I was relieved that Grandad was all right and not because Eliot looked and smelt even more delicious than I remembered.

  ‘I’ve just given him a demo of how we’ve been negotiating the stairs,’ said Grandad.

  ‘Hello Fliss,’ said Eliot, returning my smile with one of his own. ‘I hear you’ve been doing brilliantly.’

  ‘We’ve been managing,’ I shyly said.

  Crikey, at this rate I’d be swaying from side to side and batting my lashes. I had thought I’d begun to get the measure of my attraction for him, but that was obviously only because I hadn’t seen him. Now faced with the handsome, and sensually scented reality, I had to acknowledge I had it every bit as bad as before. I’d just had lunch with a devastatingly good-looking, well turned out and intriguing man and yet my reaction to him hadn’t been anything like the one induced by the sight of Eliot.

  ‘More than managing,’ he quickly said. ‘Just as I knew you would.’

  ‘I better get these bags unpacked,’ I swallowed, not wanting to give my overwhelming feelings away. ‘There’s stuff that needs to go in the fridge.’

  ‘How did you get on at Andersons?’ Grandad called after me.

  ‘Really well. Everything’s coming on Monday. It’s quite a place, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is. Did they let you put it all on the account?’

  ‘Oh,’ I fibbed. ‘I didn’t think to ask if you had one. I paid for it all there and then.’

  ‘In that case, we’ll settle up later.’

  I went to mention Jemma’s business proposition, but stopped myself. I really wanted to give it a bit more thought before I presented it. I should have picked up a notebook in town. Writing things down always helped me get a bit of perspective, as well as sparking off other ideas.

  The rain clouds had gathered again and I was getting the washing in, when Eliot left.

  ‘I hope you haven’t stayed out of the way on my account,’ he said, zipping himself into his suit.

  ‘I thought it would be good for you and Grandad to have a bit of time,’ I said, rather than admitting the truth, which was that I didn’t trust my hormones whenever I was around him. ‘He’s really missed you.’

  ‘I’ve missed him too,’ he told me. ‘And you, but I really have been busy with work.’

  ‘So much for your holiday,’ I said, trying not to get carried away with the thought of him missing me.

  ‘I know,’ he tutted, ‘and my timing could have been better today because Bill said it was the first time he’d been alone in ages. I’m sure he had been enjoying the peace.’

  ‘None the more for that, I bet he was thrilled to see you.’ I said, picking up the washing basket. ‘I know I am.’

  ‘Are you now?’ he grinned.

  ‘Yes,’ I swallowed.

  ‘In that case,’ he said, running a hand through his hair before pulling on his gloves, ‘I’ll try not to leave it so long before I come back again. Bill talked a bit about your mum earlier. He seems to be getting his head around it all. How are you doing?’

  I loved that, like Bec, he didn’t skirt around the issue as some people might.

  ‘Not brilliant, but better than I was,’ I told him, returning his frankness with my own. ‘I appreciate you asking.’

  ‘That’s what friends are for.’

  Friends, I reminded myself as I watched him pull on his helmet and start the bike. Eliot Randall and I were friends and destined to remain so. He turned in the seat and gave me a wave before he drove off. I nodded back because I was holding the laundry. What about friends with benefits? I wondered.

  Chapter 11

  Sunday was a gloriously sunny day so I took an early walk around the farm. The birds were singing away and the rain, which had fallen steadily over the previous few days, combined with the slowly rising temperature, had brought everything on a treat.

  All the fruit looked as though it had the potential to ripen a little earlier than expected for the UK and Jemma’s business proposition really couldn’t have come at a better time. The previous evening I’d mulled it all over and I was planning to present it to Grandad over breakfast.

  Having shooed a blackbird out of one of the fruit cages and tried to pull the holes in the net together, I walked back to the yard. I hoped the order from Andersons was going to come early the next day because I really did need to make the repairs, along with a proper start on preparing for the busy season ahead, as soon as possible.

  With that in mind, I set about stripping the roof off the henhouse and gave it a thorough clean and airing. I was pleased to be doing something productive and having found a sanitising powder in Grandad’s stores I also gave the whole structure a good dousing. It wasn’t all that likely it still harboured any mites because it had been empty for so long, but I didn’t think it would hurt to err on the side of caution.

  ‘Are you ready for some breakfast?’ Grandad shouted from the house.

  ‘You’re awake!’ I called back, dusting myself down and walking over to the back door. ‘And you’re downstairs. You should have waited and I would have helped you.’

  ‘I managed fine,’ he told me, as the smell of bacon made my tummy rumble. ‘I took my time and besides, you were nowhere to be seen.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised the time,’ I said, glancing at the clock as I washed my hands. I was amazed to see that hours had passed since I’d headed out. I also felt surprised and a little guilty to realise that my thoughts hadn’t strayed to Mum too. Perhaps the expression about time being a great healer wasn’t a cliché after all. ‘I had an early wander and then started sorting the henhouse.’

  ‘Just as well,’ Grandad smiled as he loaded our plates with bacon, scrambled eggs, grilled mushrooms and tomatoes, ‘because I spoke to Jake at Skylark Farm earlier and as well as the straw, he’s got three hens we can have. They’re an ex-battery trio. Still a bit rough around the edges, but perfectly healthy and laying well.’

  I abhorred all forms of intensive farming and rather liked the thought of giving some ex-battery girls a happy retirement. They were going to love clearing out the fruit cages at the end of the summer.

  ‘What’s the fox situation like here?’ I asked. ‘Will we need to keep them in a big run of some sort?’

  I hoped not.

  ‘I haven’t seen one for a while so I don’t think so. I reckon they’ll stick to scratching about the yard. They’ll soon settle in with the house to use as a bolt-hole should they need it.’

  ‘Will the cat bother them?’

  ‘She never showed any interest before, but we’ll keep an ear out, just to be on the safe side. Now, eat your breakfast and then you can tell me what you came back from town thinking about yesterday, because I know there was something.’

  With breakfast cleared away and a leg of lamb ready to go in the oven, Grandad and I carried on talking while we prepped the potatoes and other veg at the table.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me inviting the Randall clan,’ he said as I counted the potatoes I’d peeled ready for roasting. ‘It’s been a while since I’ve been able to have people around.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t mind,’ I told him. ‘They’re your friends.’ I was already genuinely fond of Bec and Louise. My feelings for Eliot put him in a completely different category of course, but I wasn’t going to let them impact on Grandad’s desire to entertain. ‘And they’ve fast become mine too,’ I therefore added. ‘It will be lovely to spend the afternoon together.’

  ‘It’ll be too hot to eat in here though,’ Grandad pointed out.

  With the oven heating up it was almost too warm already.

  ‘Let’s e
at outside then,’ I suggested. ‘We did that when you were poorly and it was lovely under the tree. Although we balanced the plates on our laps then. I’m not sure we’ll be able to do that with a full roast dinner.’

  ‘There’s an old table in the barn,’ Grandad reminisced. ‘Years ago, we used to drag that out to eat in the shade.’

  A memory of watching the Larkin clan from The Darling Buds of May on television doing something similar sprang to mind and I imagined me, Grandad and the Randall family in their place.

  ‘Let’s do that then,’ I smiled. ‘I’ll ask Bec and Eliot to give me a hand setting it up as soon as they arrive.’

  With lunch plans finalised, I took a deep breath.

  ‘And now I’m going to tell you what happened during my trip to town yesterday, other than in the library. Thank you for talking to your friend by the way. She let me use the computer as a result.’

  Distracted by Eliot’s presence when I arrived back, I’d forgotten to thank Grandad for that.

  ‘I thought she might,’ he smiled. ‘But that’s not what’s been on your mind, is it?’

  ‘No,’ I confirmed. ‘I’m more preoccupied with something that could be a great opportunity for Fenview Farm.’

  Grandad listened intently as I presented Jemma’s idea. I made it sound as appealing as possible, which wasn’t difficult given that it was such a wonderful idea, but it still didn’t stop his brow furrowing as I came to the end of my enthusiastic explanation.

  ‘But we’re not a big business compared to the other places operating around here now,’ he was quick to point out.

  ‘And that’s why she’s so keen,’ I reiterated. I’d already explained that, but he clearly hadn’t grasped it. ‘That’s exactly why she’s so interested in us. She wants seasonal, fresh and local and not too much of it. She’s prepared to adapt her menu to cater for what we can offer, for as long as it lasts. She’s looking to work with a smaller business now she’s realised the other local farms will only supply her with massive bulk orders.’

  ‘I see,’ Grandad nodded, rubbing a hand over his stubbly chin.

  ‘I had a proper look at the menu while I was there,’ I told him, ‘and on the back she’s listed some of the other places she supports. Skylark honey and pork featured and I’m guessing that must be your mate Jake’s farm.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘That’s right.’

  ‘It would be good to see our name on there with his too, wouldn’t it? This deal could be as much about raising our reputation as selling fruit.’

  ‘Um,’ he thoughtfully said.

  I busied myself at the stove and let a moment of silence settle. I wanted him to have the opportunity to mull it all over, like I’d had. I very much hoped he was going to agree to what Jemma had suggested, in principle at least.

  ‘I admit I have been concerned about what was going to happen to this year’s crops,’ he quietly said. ‘And to be honest, I didn’t think I’d be trading at all next year.’

  There was a change in his tone and when I looked, I saw his bottom lip trembling. The sight of it, caused tears to prickle the backs of my eyes and a lump to form in my throat.

  ‘Last season,’ he carried on, ‘Chris Dempster, who runs a stall on the market, helped me out and Jake did too, but it wasn’t quite enough and we had some waste. They’ve both said they’ll carry on selling for me, but I’d already worked out there’d be quite a surplus of strawberries again.’

  ‘Jemma mentioned that they had stepped in,’ I softly said.

  ‘Between them they took the soft fruit and then Jake had the apples and pears for his cider and perry like he always does. The set-up worked reasonably well, but as I said, there was some waste. I had been thinking about ploughing up half the rows at the end of last year, but couldn’t bring myself to do it.’

  Fenview Farm really was on the cusp of scaling down and possibly even closing its trading doors and I was grateful that Mum had found it within herself to write her letter and tell me about this place, even if the details had only been brief. Had I not been made aware of this other branch of the Brown family even for just a few months longer, then I might have been visiting a very different farm to the one I was falling under the spell of now.

  ‘Well, it’s just as well you didn’t get the plough out, isn’t it?’ I said, recovering enough to smile. ‘Jemma will be buying more than the surplus and the deal could give the farm a whole new lease of life. She’ll be playing up the local and fresh aspect and she’s prepared to pay well too. There won’t be any wasted fruit at all this year and consequently no financial loss.’

  Grandad seemed to like the sound of that.

  ‘Did she say if she had any preference about the produce being organic?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Not that I can recall.’

  ‘It was something I had been thinking about before things went downhill. No one else around here is organic and I thought it might give the farm an edge. I was all set to try it, but then, like so many other things I’d dreamt up, it got set aside.’

  He didn’t elaborate on what the other things were.

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘I think now might be the time to pick those dreams up again. Are you interested in what Jemma is offering?’

  ‘More than interested,’ he said, his mouth breaking into the broadest smile I’d seen yet. ‘If Jemma takes a good share and Chris and Jake pick up the rest then we could be properly back in business.’

  I felt the tension I’d been carrying in my shoulders begin to loosen its grip.

  ‘I think it really could be the start of an exciting new era for Fenview Farm.’

  ‘And I can’t tell you what a relief that would be, Fliss,’ Grandad swallowed. ‘I was convinced that I was going to be the Brown who failed after the success of so many generations who had gone before me. In spite of my recent spell of better sleep,’ he admitted, ‘the worry has kept me awake at night for a very long time.’

  I knew that on its own, the contract with Jemma wouldn’t be enough to keep the farm completely afloat, but it would provide a much-needed life raft. It would help keep our heads above water for a while and with the strawberry season about to kick off, it really couldn’t have been better timed.

  I was suddenly rather enamoured with Bec’s lack of discretion. Perhaps folk finding out who I was might not be such a bad thing after all.

  ‘We’re not going to let the farm fail,’ I said firmly, as I felt my determination to keep things going receive a hefty, potentially celestial, boost. ‘It’s not happening on my watch.’

  Grandad beamed again.

  ‘I’ll get in touch with Jemma and invite her here so you can negotiate the contract as soon as possible.’

  ‘I’ll want you onboard for that too,’ Grandad quickly said.

  ‘I’d be honoured to help.’ I told him.

  ‘Oh Fliss,’ he gasped, reaching for my hand. ‘What a breath of fresh air you’ve brought to this place. And to me. Before you came along, I was practically resigned to selling up and moving to a boxy little bungalow to see out my days.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen either,’ I said, squeezing his fingers in mine. ‘I want to see this place thrive again. There’s no way you’re going to have to part with any of it.’

  Grandad nodded, but didn’t comment further.

  ‘Now,’ I said. ‘Let’s get this lamb in the oven, otherwise we’ll be eating dinner rather than lunch!’

  * * *

  I was fanning myself with a tea-towel by the back door when the Randall clan rocked up. I was mightily amused to see Eliot squeezed into the back of the Banana-mobile and it was most entertaining to watch him prise himself out and unfurl.

  It was the first time I’d seen him wearing proper going-out clothes and I tried not to stare when I noticed how good his long, toned legs looked in cargo shorts. I supposed their impressive shape was the result of gripping that powerful Ducati so tightly between his muscular thighs. Perhaps best not to think
about that. Lustful thoughts about legs didn’t have any place in the ‘friend zone’, did they?

  ‘Felicity,’ beamed Louise, pulling me into one of her trademark hugs. ‘How are you settling in?’

  ‘It’s been a surprisingly wonderful few days,’ I told her, quickly banishing the inappropriate thoughts about Eliot’s physique and focusing instead on everything that had happened since she, Grandad and I had had our heart to heart. ‘Given the circumstances.’

  ‘I’m so pleased,’ she said, kissing my hair.

  The second she released me, Bec filled the space in my arms that Louise had left and gave me a squeeze that rivalled her mother’s. When she eventually stepped back, I found myself facing Eliot. We hesitated for an awkward second and then he thrust a bag that clinked with bottles into my arms.

  ‘Bill said we were having lamb so really it should have been red,’ he said, looking a little rosy himself. ‘But given everything that’s happened, we thought champagne would be a better option, didn’t we, Bec?’

  ‘You did,’ she shot back. ‘I would have settled for elderflower cordial as I’m driving, but you said it should be top shelf champers to celebrate Fliss’s arrival in our lives or nothing.’

  ‘Well, thank you,’ I said, feeling genuinely touched that he felt that my turning up was something worth celebrating in such style and at such expense. ‘I’ll put it in the fridge.’

  ‘And just wait until you hear what Fliss has come up with for the farm,’ Grandad chimed in. ‘Then you’ll be even more pleased that you splashed out, Eliot!’

  Bec, Eliot and I carried the table out of the barn and set it down in the shade of the apple tree before adding a tablecloth which Grandad told me had been embroidered by his mother, my great-grandmother, along with a mismatched collection of crockery, cutlery, glasses and chairs.

  The dinner, carried out in covered tureens that also hailed from my great-grandmother’s era, was delicious, and the accompaniment of the champagne ensured we were all, other than Bec, a little drowsy by the time I served up apple pie swimming in pools of thick double cream.