A Taste of Home Read online

  Hiring the space out to another farmer, or even a landscaper looking for machinery storage might be an easier option and then there were the residential conversion opportunities, as long as you didn’t mind someone living practically on your doorstep. That would most likely mean selling it, but I added it anyway.

  I did another quick doodle then added farm shop to the list along with Fenland museum. I was scraping the barrel a bit by then, but the unusual collection had stuck in my head. It was obviously there for a reason and meant something to someone.

  ‘What’s this?’ asked Eliot, leaning over my shoulder and making me jump. ‘Possible diversification ideas?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I said, turning the paper over. ‘I was just thinking about things that could help get the farm back on its feet.’

  ‘What makes you think it needs any help?’ he said, sounding a little defensive.

  ‘Well, I’ve seen a few things about the place that need attention so I’ve written them down.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Well, the fruit cages for a start,’ I told him, feeling my temperature rise under his inquisition. ‘A couple of them are torn and if the birds get in, then the protection might as well not be there.’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘The strawberry rows need strawing to stop the fruit from resting on the soil and getting spoiled in the rain,’ I said, referring to the second thing on my list.

  ‘And how do you know about any of this stuff?’ he asked, nodding at the notes I’d made. ‘What do you know about running a fruit farm?’

  There was a definite narky edge to his tone and I thought it had more bite behind it than just being nudged to the fore by a sleepless night.

  ‘You’d be surprised,’ I found myself snapping back.

  ‘And what’s all this?’ he asked, taking up the paper and turning it over. ‘Wedding venue, barn conversion, farm shop,’ he reeled off. ‘Got plans of your own for Fenview Farm, have you?’

  ‘No,’ I said, further taken aback by the unkind accusation. ‘Of course not.’

  I hoped he didn’t think that I had travelled to Wynbridge with a potential inheritance in mind. That’s not what I had come to Fenview for at all.

  ‘I was just doing it to fill the time, that’s all.’ I quickly explained. ‘This,’ I said, pointing at the paper he still held, ‘is just my way of letting my mind wander. I need to keep busy. It stops me thinking—’

  ‘About what?’ he cut in.

  ‘My mother’s last moments,’ I choked. ‘Watching her last breath leave her body. Seeing the light leave her eyes. Walking to the grave behind her coffin.’

  ‘Shit,’ Eliot swore, dropping the paper back on the table.

  ‘Knowing I’ll never feel her arms around me again.’

  ‘Stop,’ he said, pulling out the chair next to mine and sitting on it. ‘Please, Fliss.’

  ‘Well you asked. You clearly wanted me to justify the silly scribbles, didn’t you? You wanted me to prove that I haven’t rocked up here with a view to trying to secure myself a Fenland future.’

  ‘No,’ he said, hanging his head. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Well, that’s what it sounded like to me.’

  ‘Fuck,’ he said, and then he was back on his feet and pulling me along with him. ‘Come here.’

  He wrapped his arms tight around me and my body melded to his in spite of my vain attempt to resist. I was too wound up to cry and too shocked by his proximity to feel anything other than annoyance. If there had been a spark between us the day before, then, for the time being at least, he had succeeded in snuffing it out.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his breath close to my ear. ‘I just worry about Bill. He’s so vulnerable right now and I just want to…’

  ‘Protect him,’ I said, pulling away. ‘I know, but you really don’t need to protect him from me.’

  We looked at each other, as an uncomfortable awkwardness filled the space between us.

  ‘I’m going for a run,’ I said. ‘Maybe you should think about taking a nap.’

  * * *

  It was a good couple of miles before I had even started to work my way out of the upset Eliot’s reaction to my note-making had shoved me into and even then, it still stung. I could appreciate the second part of my list could have been open to misinterpretation, but it was the fact that he had reacted with such instant suspicion which had taken me aback.

  Granted he didn’t know me yet, but he could have framed his curiosity about what I had been scribbling so much better. He might have looked buff in boxers, but thinking so badly of me had turned me off him a bit.

  I picked up the pace again and turned back towards the farm, smashing my PB as the farmhouse came into view. My heart was hammering and my breath was sharp in my chest by the time I drew level with the gate.

  ‘Hey!’ called a voice as I began to stretch out my muscles. ‘Where’s the fire?’

  I pulled out my earbuds and spun round, abandoning the series of extra-long stretches I always did after a really hard run. Mr Helpful and his sleek Audi had crept up behind me and I hadn’t heard a thing. I never usually played my music so loud for fear of not hearing traffic but Eliot had got me so fired up I’d shot the volume up as soon as I set off.

  ‘Oh hey,’ I puffed, still breathing hard.

  ‘That was some serious speed you gathered back there,’ he beamed, taking off his sunglasses and unashamedly looking at my legs.

  I didn’t usually run in shorts, but they were the only thing remotely suitable for exercise that I had with me. That and the halter neck top I had teamed them with. Fortunately, I’d got my running shoes because I never went anywhere without those.

  ‘I thought I’d better make the effort to burn off all those calories I’d ingested after my spree in the deli,’ I said, making a joke even though I still didn’t feel much in the mood for a laugh.

  ‘You look just fine to me,’ he said seriously.

  I knew my face was already flushed and was pleased he couldn’t see that I was blushing.

  ‘You left your olive oil in my bag,’ I said, neatly side stepping his comment. ‘You can come and get it if you like.’

  I wasn’t sure what Eliot would make of me inviting a stranger in, but given that I was still smarting over our almost argument, I wasn’t all that concerned.

  ‘What from here?’ asked Mr Helpful, looking at the farm.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you staying here?’

  ‘Sort of,’ I said, wrinkling my nose as I realised that I’d put my foot in it again and let another local know I had a connection to the place too soon.

  ‘Either you are or you aren’t,’ he laughed. ‘Unless of course you’re squatting. Is that what you’re doing?’

  It did feel a bit like that.

  ‘In a roundabout sort of way,’ I sighed, as I looked along the road and spotted the Banana-mobile heading in our direction, ‘I suppose I am.’

  He noticed my gaze had shifted and checked his mirror.

  ‘Oh crikey,’ he grinned. ‘You can’t miss that thing, can you?’

  ‘Absolutely not,’ I smiled, this time the reaction felt far more genuine. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if it glowed in the dark. So, do you want to come in and get this oil?’

  ‘It’ll have to be another day, I’m afraid.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘Absolutely. It’ll be a good excuse to bump into you again.’

  ‘Do you need one?’ I laughed.

  I realised with a jolt that I was flirting. So out of practice, I thought I’d lost the ability, and I had no idea why I was doing it. Perhaps it was some sort of reflex to Eliot’s meanness.

  ‘I guess not,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll see you around.’

  He put the car into gear and smoothly pulled away.

  ‘Yes,’ I called after him. ‘I’ll see you around.’ It was only then that I realised that I still hadn’t found out who he was.

&nb
sp; Chapter 7

  It didn’t make any difference to me, but Monday was a bank holiday, and that did have an impact on Eliot.

  ‘I have to go out,’ he told me, when I eventually went down to the kitchen, dressed and stiff legged, to seek out some coffee.

  I’d avoided spending time with him the afternoon and evening before. He’d apologised profusely for his suspicious snappiness more than once and I had accepted it, but I didn’t much like the change in atmosphere the misunderstanding had left behind, so I absented myself from it and stayed upstairs on the excuse of being tired. Which wasn’t an excuse really because the previous day’s events had been exhausting.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, my nerves instantly jangling at the thought of being left home alone, in case my grandfather needed anything while he was gone. ‘Right.’

  ‘I’m not going to be long.’ Eliot elaborated, picking up on my apprehension. ‘So, don’t worry. I just need to collect some meds for Bill that I hadn’t realised he was running low on, and as it’s a bank holiday the pharmacy in town is shut so I’ve got to go to the one in the big Waitrose in Peterborough.’

  ‘All right,’ I nodded, trying to look more in control than I felt, as he pulled on his leather suit. ‘Here’s hoping you won’t be needed before you get back.’

  ‘I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.’

  I didn’t much want him to ride fast but a speedy turnaround would be appreciated.

  ‘You’re going to be hot wearing that,’ I said, with a nod to the suit.

  For a British bank holiday, the weather felt unseasonably warm and that was inside the house.

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ he said, wriggling his shoulders to get the suit to slide more comfortably into place before offering me a cheeky smile, ‘but I don’t ride without protection.’

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘Honestly Eliot,’ I said primly, but with a smile. ‘Well, that’s good to know.’

  He laughed back and even though I was nervous about him leaving, I was relieved that the awkward feeling between us had been banished. I busied myself making coffee and toast while he pulled on the cumbersome boots which filled the space by the back door.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ he said again, reaching for his helmet and gloves. ‘Bill’s asleep and fingers crossed he’ll stay that way. I’ll push the bike down the road a bit before I start it, and the window in his room is shut, so he shouldn’t hear it.’

  He was going to great lengths to ensure everything should run like clockwork and I appreciated that.

  ‘All right,’ I said. ‘And don’t worry about how long it takes, just ride safe. The roads are bound to be extra busy today and not all car drivers have their minds on bikes when they’re in a rush, do they?’

  ‘Unfortunately not,’ he agreed. ‘I’ve had my share of near misses.’

  I didn’t like the thought of him having to take evasive action as he sped along the poker-straight A47. It seemed to me to be just the sort of road that could easily catch you out if you didn’t have your wits about you.

  ‘See you later then,’ he smiled, ducking out the door.

  Even though he pushed the heavy bike a good way along the road before he started it, it was still loud and barely out of earshot before I heard my grandfather moving about. I crossed my fingers and sent up a quick prayer in the hope that I wasn’t in for a repeat of what happened when Vicky left on Saturday.

  ‘I know you’re still here!’ he called, making my feet leave the floor before I’d even uttered an amen. ‘So, you might as well come in.’

  I stood stock still, barely daring to breathe and wishing I’d prayed faster. That said, maybe it was Eliot that he was referring to.

  ‘Come on, young woman! Show yourself.’

  Or maybe not. Eliot was as far from womanly as it was possible to get.

  ‘Quick now,’ came the voice again. ‘Or am I going to have to come and find you myself?’

  I dithered for a second and then, knowing I couldn’t risk him getting out of bed unaided, popped my head into the room.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said. ‘The enigma reveals itself at last.’

  ‘Good morning,’ I blurted out, my voice ridiculously squeaky and high. ‘I’m here to help Eliot, Mr Brown. I’m a trainee. He’s gone to get you some tablets, but he’ll be back in a minute. Why don’t you just go to sleep?’

  I don’t think I’d ever spoken so fast.

  ‘I know exactly when he’ll be back,’ he calmly told me. ‘I’m capable of working out how long it takes him to get to Peterborough and back on that death trap he rides. I’ve been waiting for him to go. Just because my eyes are closed, neither of you should assume I’m asleep, you know.’

  He’d obviously overheard mine and Eliot’s every word. I wondered what else he’d been privy to. At least he wasn’t shouting anymore though.

  ‘If you’re serious about pursuing a career in caring,’ he added, his eyes twinkling, ‘then you should remember that.’

  ‘I will,’ I nodded, playing along. ‘That’s good to know. Thank you. Duly noted.’

  ‘And you should always have the kettle on the boil too,’ he said with a sniff. ‘I generally have a cup of tea about now and I wouldn’t mind something to eat to go with it, if that’s all right with you?’

  As I boiled a couple of eggs and buttered bread, I tried not to think about what was going to happen next. I was in no way prepared to keep telling lies because that would only cause more problems in the long run, but I wasn’t ready for the conversation about my true identity which seemed to be nudging closer either.

  I had no idea what Eliot was going to say when he got back and found I’d been playing out the caring role, but I could hardly have ignored my grandfather’s calls, could I? Eliot would have been far unhappier if I’d left him to find me and he’d taken a tumble.

  ‘Here we go then, Mr Brown,’ I said, trying to smile as I wobbled my way back into the room with the breakfast tray. ‘How about some boiled eggs to kick your day off?’

  I was probably overdoing the upbeat tone, but I was nervous. I hoped I didn’t sound patronising. If I was, my grandfather was thankfully willing to let it pass.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said, grimacing a little as he shifted himself further up the bed. ‘Just the thing. Thank you very much.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ I said, hastily turning away.

  ‘No, don’t go,’ he said, deftly slicing the tops off the eggs. ‘Stay and talk. I could do with a bit of different conversation.’

  ‘I’ll just grab my coffee then,’ I said, my breath tight in my chest.

  I took a moment to compose myself and when I went back in, I noticed how stuffy the room felt. With the curtains closed it was dull too. It reflected nothing of the bright and sunny May bank holiday morning that was unfolding outside, and with the added smell of the eggs it made my nose wrinkle.

  ‘Mr Brown,’ I said. ‘Would you mind if I opened the curtains?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he keenly replied. ‘And some fresh air wouldn’t hurt. I know Eliot’s been keeping the curtains closed in case I spotted you walking about, and that the window has been shut this morning so I didn’t hear his blasted bike, but as he’s gone now and you’re in here we don’t have to worry about any of that, do we?’

  He really did have it all sussed out. I tried not to think about what else he already knew, or at least suspected.

  ‘I take it you’re not a fan of the Ducati then?’ I said, putting down my mug.

  He sounded even more scathing than Alessandro who appreciated the power and beauty of the machine, but was also adamant that Marco would never ride one. Conversely, my grandfather didn’t sound at all in awe of the bike’s esteemed credentials. His tone was a much better match for Nonna’s.

  ‘No,’ he bluntly said. ‘I’m not.’

  I rattled the curtains back along the pole and threw the window open.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, drawing in a breath of the sweetly fra
grant air which rushed in. ‘That’s more like it.’

  The atmosphere in the room instantly lifted. No longer a sick room, it felt light and fresh.

  ‘Can I smell roses?’ I asked, catching the heady scent as the sunlight streamed in.

  ‘You can,’ he proudly said. ‘The back of the house is covered with climbers and they flower early thanks to the sheltered spot. With the sun on them, they smell like that all day.’

  I hadn’t seen them when I made my tour of the farm because I’d avoided the back of the house.

  ‘They smell wonderful,’ I said, inhaling deeply as he smiled in approval. ‘Oh,’ I added, ‘now we’re in trouble.’

  Having spotted an opportunity, the little cat had jumped nimbly through the window and straight up on to the bed.

  ‘Eliot told me she’s not a house cat,’ I frowned, wondering how she would react if I tried to lift her off the bed or shoo her out. ‘Shall I try and put her out again?’

  ‘No,’ my grandfather said. ‘She won’t do any harm and to tell you the truth, I’ve missed seeing her. But the lad’s right, she’s not usually one for coming in, so I guess she must have been missing me too.’

  It didn’t take him long to finish his breakfast and by the time I returned from clearing up and making more drinks, the cat was curled up on his lap, purring away and looking every bit like the feline who’d got the cream. Louise had told me my grandfather wasn’t really a grumpy old man and the way he fussed and tenderly coddled the cat suggested she was right.

  ‘Do you think she’s hungry?’ I asked, as he stroked her back, covering the pristine bed linen with a fine layer of cat hair.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. She’s pretty self-sufficient.’

  I shuddered at the thought of her rat-catching capabilities.

  ‘What about you?’ I asked, keen to dismiss the image as I sat in the chair next to the bed. ‘Can I get you anything else, Mr Brown?’