A Taste of Home Read online

  ‘No, I don’t,’ I quickly interrupted, though just a few minutes ago I’d been fizzing. ‘You’re just looking out for my grandfather. I get that. And someone turning up out of the blue and claiming to be a relative isn’t a usual Saturday morning occurrence, is it?’

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ he said, clearly relieved that I’d accepted his previously harsh tone. ‘And you don’t look like a Brown. Not that I’m suggesting you’re not who you say you are, but as far as I know, neither dark hair nor olive skin feature in the family tree.’

  Definitely weighing up my credentials then.

  ‘My dad was Italian,’ I told him, giving up yet more information.

  ‘Oh right.’

  ‘I never knew him, but Mum left here to look for him when she found out she was pregnant with me. She didn’t find him though.’

  I didn’t seem able to stop myself from blurting stuff out. It was definitely time to head back to town.

  ‘And she’s never come back here in all that time, has she?’ Eliot mused.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You know,’ he pondered. ‘I don’t even think Bill knows she had a baby. He’s certainly never mentioned a grandchild to me.’

  That made me feel marginally better. At least my grandfather wasn’t hankering for something he’d never had. Even if, thanks to Mum’s letter, I had started to.

  ‘How old are you?’ Eliot asked.

  ‘Twenty-eight.’

  ‘I’m twenty-six, so only slightly younger.’

  ‘Does he ever talk about her?’ I couldn’t resist asking.

  ‘He used to, but not for years now. Not to me, anyway. That said, he hasn’t talked about much at all recently. He’s not had the best couple of years.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He’s not been well and not being able to properly look after the farm has only added to his problems. We’re all hoping he’s turned a corner now he’s got this new hip. Hopefully he’ll be up and running and back to his old self again soon. God knows, the farm needs him.’

  Eliot was giving up information as readily as I was, and knowing my grandfather’s life was on the up again did go some way to making me feel better about not hanging around. I knew Mum had wanted me to come and potentially stay, but her dad didn’t need this sort of revelation at this point in his recuperation. Come to that, he probably never would.

  ‘Finding out about you is going to come as a bit of a shock though,’ Eliot then said.

  ‘Well,’ I said. ‘I didn’t tell him anything other than my name, and that could just be a coincidence like the doctor assumed, so if you and Vicky can keep it to yourselves, he won’t find out, will he? I’ll be out of sight in a minute and no one will be any the wiser.’

  ‘Is that why you didn’t tell Doctor Clarke who you are?’

  ‘Yes,’ I nodded. ‘I’d already made up my mind to go again and so the fewer people who know about me, the better.’

  And no one at all needed to know what had happened to Mum. No matter how she had left things here when she ran away, her premature demise would be the biggest shock of all. That was one thing I could stop myself revealing. Parents weren’t supposed to outlive their children. It wasn’t the natural order of things.

  ‘But you’ll come back at some point, won’t you?’ Eliot asked. ‘Give it a few months and then come again?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I won’t do that. I shouldn’t have come at all.’

  ‘I’m not sure I can agree with you about that,’ Eliot frowned.

  ‘Well,’ I said, pulling on my pack. ‘I’m not asking you to agree with me, just forget you ever saw me.’

  He scanned my face again and his flushed.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll be able to do that either,’ he smiled.

  His face was completely transformed, the lines around his eyes crinkled in such a way that suggested he spent more time laughing than frowning and I found I was rather pleased about that. I broke eye contact first and looked away wondering if his libido had taken a hit like mine had.

  ‘Does your mum know you’re here?’ he asked, clearing his throat.

  I shook my head.

  ‘What made you come now?’ he carried on, determined to get more out of me before I left. ‘No offence, but you’ve taken your time.’

  I kept my lips tightly pressed together.

  ‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I said, dashing for the door. ‘It was nice to meet you, Eliot. Thank you for looking after my grandfather.’

  Once I was back on the road, I sent up a silent apology to Mum. I was certain that she had written her letter with the best of intentions, with a view to making amends for all the years of holding back, but it was too late to try and squeeze myself into a shape that would fit Fenview Farm. Life there had moved on, her dad had the chance for the fresh start he obviously needed, and there was no way I was going to risk screwing it up for him. I was going to catch a plane back to Italy and my roots were staying put in Puglia.

  Chapter 4

  I had only walked about half a mile when I heard a car on the road behind me. My ears had been straining to hear the throaty rumble of the Ducati, but it hadn’t come. For some strange reason, part of me had wanted Eliot to come after me, even though I knew my grandfather was in no fit state to be left alone.

  I also knew that even though nothing could come of it, I had felt an almost magnetic pull towards Eliot, and the look he’d given me before I left made me think he’d felt it too. I didn’t usually hanker for romantic gestures or grand ‘at first sight’ moments, but truth be told, I wouldn’t have minded Eliot roaring up and sweeping me off my feet!

  It was pure fantasy of course, because given his closeness to my grandfather, any sort of contact between us would have made keeping me a secret impossible, and besides, I was grieving and my life was in turmoil. A whirlwind romance should have been the last thing on my mind, shouldn’t it? That said, I could have easily succumbed to a bit of nurturing, although I wasn’t entirely sure that’s where my thoughts about Eliot had been heading.

  Feeling wrung out after the emotion of the morning and throwing caution to the wind, I stuck out my thumb. Hitchhiking was hardly the safest option, but thanks to the last dregs of adrenaline still coursing through my system, I knew I had just about enough physical strength in me to fight off even the most persistent assailant, should I need to.

  Even so, it was still a heart-stopping moment when the car drove past and then bumped up on to the verge, effectively blocking my path.

  The driver, a woman, leant across the seats and opened the passenger door.

  ‘Hey!’ she shouted. ‘Are you Felicity Brown?’

  So much for staying incognito. I wondered if it was Vicky or Eliot who had gone blabbing. I hoped it was Vicky. I’d felt pretty certain Eliot would manage to keep me to himself even if he hadn’t been able to commit to forgetting he’d seen me.

  ‘Can you give me a lift into Wynbridge?’ I asked, ignoring the question and peering into the car to find a woman with wild, curly greying hair and a tentative smile. She looked to be about Mum’s age.

  ‘Later perhaps,’ she said, her smile slipping a little as her eyes met mine, ‘but for now I’d like you to come back to the farm with me.’

  ‘What? The farm back along the drove?’ I asked, feigning ignorance.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why on earth would I want to do that?’

  ‘Because you are Felicity Brown, aren’t you?’

  She was like a dog with a bone and I didn’t know how to shake her off. If I carried on walking, she’d doubtless follow me all the way to Wynbridge.

  ‘Yes,’ I sighed. ‘I am, but I’m not going back to the farm.’

  ‘Please,’ she pleaded.

  ‘Who even are you?’ I asked, letting my rucksack slip off my shoulders.

  I was sure it felt heavier than when I’d left Italy.

  ‘I’m Eliot�
��s mum.’

  I hung my head and let out a long breath.

  ‘He just rang to ask me to take some stuff to the farm and mentioned that you’d turned up.’

  I nodded.

  ‘He went nuts when I said I was going to come and find you.’

  That was probably because mentioning me had just slipped out and given the bout of blabbermouth I’d experienced at the farm, I could hardly hold it against him.

  ‘And why would my turning up be of such interest to you?’ I asked.

  ‘Because I’m an old friend of your mum’s.’ The woman explained, her voice catching. ‘My name’s Louise Randall. Your mum wrote to me a couple of months ago and told me all about you. I hadn’t heard from her in almost thirty years. She said you might turn up.’

  She knew then. She knew what had happened to Mum.

  ‘Right,’ I said, swallowing down the lump which had lodged itself in my throat again. ‘I see.’

  In Italy, no one had mentioned another letter, but someone must have sent it on Mum’s behalf. I didn’t think it could have been Alessandro, Marco or Nonna, because they would have said about it when I read them mine. Perhaps Mum had coerced one of the nurses who came to visit into helping, or the doctor perhaps. I wondered if any more revelatory letters were waiting to be revealed.

  ‘Come on,’ Louise encouraged. ‘Come back to the farm and we’ll have a proper chat.’

  ‘But what about my grandfather?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, unable to keep the wobble out of her voice. ‘William doesn’t know anything. Not about you or your mum.’

  ‘And I want to keep it that way,’ I said, sounding fiercer than I perhaps intended to.

  ‘That’s your call,’ she nodded. ‘I just want to talk to you for a few minutes.’

  ‘And then you’ll drive me to Wynbridge?’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘All right then. We’ll have some lunch and a chat and then I’ll take you to town.’

  Back at the farm, Eliot had set out more mugs, refreshed the pot and made a plateful of chunky cheese and ham sandwiches.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said to me while glaring at his mum the second we walked back into the kitchen. ‘It just sort of…’

  ‘Slipped out?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, running a hand through his already mussed up hair.

  ‘It’s okay,’ I shrugged. ‘No harm done, I suppose.’

  ‘What with that and pointing out that you don’t look like a Brown,’ he said, evidently still feeling bad, ‘you must have a pretty low opinion of me, right now.’

  ‘What on earth made you say that?’ Louise tutted at him.

  Eliot and I looked at each other and exchanged a smile. Surely it was more than obvious?

  ‘I think it was something to do with the fact that I look more Italian than East Anglian,’ I told Louise, pulling my thick, dark ponytail over my shoulder.

  ‘But your father was Italian,’ she said, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

  This inability to keep quiet was catching. Everyone seemed to have a dose.

  ‘You knew Jennifer was pregnant when she ran off?’ Eliot glowered.

  Louise pulled out a chair and sat down heavily on it.

  ‘Yes,’ she said, as her face and neck flushed scarlet. ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell Bill?’

  ‘And further add to his misery?’ Louise shot back without hesitation. ‘Not likely.’

  I joined her at the table wondering what else she knew that my grandfather and I didn’t.

  ‘Was this letter you received from Mum a few weeks ago a one-off?’ I asked her. ‘Or had she been in touch before?’

  ‘And she wrote to you?’ Eliot flared again.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Louise said, jerking her head towards the door which led to the room where my grandfather was sleeping. Eliot rushed to close it. ‘Apart from the brief note she left when she ran away, it was a one-off,’ she then said to me. ‘And it was a shock to get it, I can tell you.’

  Given what it no doubt said, I’m sure it was. ‘I can imagine,’ I breathed, feeling another rush of grief.

  Eliot stopped in his tracks, but this time didn’t say anything.

  ‘She told me she had cancer and that she hadn’t long to live,’ Louise softly said. ‘She also said that she’d left you a letter about this place, that she felt ashamed for not telling you about it before and that you might make up your mind to come here when you read it after…’

  She pulled a tissue out from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.

  ‘So, your being here,’ she asked between sobs, ‘means she’s gone, doesn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, as tears slid down my face. ‘She’s gone.’

  Eliot passed me a box of tissues from the dresser.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t realise.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you,’ I told him, ‘because I didn’t want to burden you with knowing about that as well as me and not being able to say anything.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain,’ he kindly said.

  ‘And I didn’t tell you about the letter for the same reason,’ Louise told her son. ‘You’re so close to Bill, it wouldn’t have been fair. I thought it best to bide my time and see if Felicity turned up and then decide what to do.’

  ‘And here she is,’ Eliot smiled down at me. ‘I wish it was under different circumstances, but I’m glad you came.’

  ‘I’m not sure I am,’ I sniffed. ‘I don’t know what to do now.’

  We all sat together and, over the tea and sandwiches, I told them about the colourful and often nomadic life Mum had lived. About the travelling and the adventures and how even though she’d been let down by my father, she’d found a refuge at the Rossis’ and established a base with them in Puglia.

  ‘We did come to the UK sometimes,’ I explained. ‘But never near here.’

  ‘You travelled with her?’ Eliot asked.

  ‘Not so much recently, but when I was growing up, she took me everywhere with her then.’

  Eliot was agog.

  ‘She sounds amazing,’ he dreamily said.

  ‘She had her moments,’ I smiled, this time through happier tears.

  ‘But she never mentioned the farm or her father?’ Louise wanted to know. ‘Or the fact that she’d named you after her very own mother?’

  ‘Never.’

  ‘She might have been amazing, but that sounds like her too,’ Louise sniffed. ‘I don’t mean to speak ill, but even as a young woman, she had a tendency to live her life exactly how she wanted to.’

  I couldn’t deny that she was right about that but given that it had been a life cut so short, I felt happy that Mum had pleased herself when it came to living it. Although not that she had left her father to endure a lifetime of worry about what had happened to her when she took off, of course.

  ‘And you never thought to ask about what her life was like before you were born?’ Eliot asked.

  ‘No,’ I flushed. ‘I didn’t. I know that was stupid now, but I never had any reason to give it a thought.’

  ‘It wasn’t stupid,’ said Louise, reaching for my hand. ‘You no doubt trusted her. Even though you weren’t consciously aware of it, deep down you probably thought that if there was anything worth knowing then she would have told you about it.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘You must have been very happy living with this family to think of them as your own,’ she added.

  ‘I was,’ I said. ‘I am.’

  ‘And besides, we all have our secrets, don’t we?’

  ‘Some more than others,’ Eliot remarked.

  He was obviously still smarting over the fact that his mum had known my mum was pregnant when she disappeared and never said anything, but I could completely understand Louise’s reasoning for keeping it to herself. My grandfather certainly wouldn’t have felt any better knowing he had lost hi
s daughter and a grandchild.

  ‘And what about your father?’ she asked me, picking up on what Eliot was getting at. ‘Did she tell you anything about him?’

  ‘Only that he was a holiday fling and very good looking.’

  ‘Oh, he was,’ Louise nodded.

  ‘You knew him?’ I gasped.

  ‘Not knew exactly,’ she said, allowing herself a wistful smile at the memory. ‘We weren’t with him long enough for that, but I did see him. Your mum and I were holidaying together. It was our first trip abroad. Your grandfather didn’t want us to go on our own, but I convinced him it would be all right. I was always the sensible one and I promised him I’d keep Jennifer out of mischief.’

  ‘You didn’t do a very good job,’ said Eliot, looking pointedly at me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I swallowed.

  ‘Eliot,’ Louise quickly stepped in.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘That didn’t sound how I meant it to.’

  ‘And you’ll never know the depth of the guilt I’ve carried for all these years for not keeping a closer eye on her,’ Louise then said, making me feel a hundred times worse.

  ‘Oh, and thank you too,’ I said, pushing back my chair.

  ‘Oh love,’ she said, ‘I don’t mean…’

  ‘No matter,’ I said cutting her off and walking to the back door. ‘I’m just going to get some fresh air.’

  * * *

  There wasn’t much of a garden attached to the side of the house, but I found some shade from the spring sunshine under an ancient apple tree which was in the middle of an overgrown lawn around the side furthest from the yard. I sat down and looked back at the house and outbuildings, determined to phase the conversation out for a few minutes and take my surroundings in.

  I knew Eliot and Louise hadn’t meant any harm, but I was feeling tired and emotional and it had been easy for me to take offence at their poor choice of words. Best to have some time out, before I said something I’d regret, especially as I was relying on Louise to run me back to town. I rested my back against the tree and looked about me.

  From what I could see of Fenview Farm, it was all a little rough around the edges but homely enough, and there was no doubt in my mind that I would have found the day so much harder to cope with had it not been happening on a farm. The setting was comfortingly familiar, even if the events and revelations that were unfolding were completely alien.