Appleby Farm (19 page)

‘Lovely sight, in’t it?’ Eddy pulled to a halt a few metres away from the nearest animal.

I flicked a glance at him, unsure whether he meant the two putting on a performance worthy of the
Discovery Channel
, but his sharp grey eyes were examining each and every animal carefully.

‘Lovely,’ I agreed.

‘I like to see cows with calves at foot. When we were a dairy farm, the calves were brought up in pens without their mothers. Which is how it’s got to be, of course. Nice to see the little ’uns on grass, though.’

‘So what do we need to do for the herd today?’

‘Just a check for now. When we turn ’em out into the fields in spring, we let the bulls run with the cows. This group of lucky ladies has got Dexter.’

Eddy pointed to the middle of the group where a huge brown and white bull with a pink nose and little white curls on his forehead was chewing the cud and staring at us intently.

‘Very handsome,’ I agreed.

‘About now – May, June – they’ll be getting pregnant again. And then we’ll start having calves February, March next year.’

I swallowed. Busy life for a cow! And I also realized with a jolt that next year’s crop of calves could already be in production, so to speak. ‘How can you tell if they’re pregnant?’

He shook his head. ‘You can’t at this stage. She’s in season, though,’ he said, pointing to the cow that’d been thoroughly romped by her friend. ‘We need to get the vet round for a routine pregnancy test. And we’ve got the TB test at ten o’clock tomorrow. Assuming the last bill’s been paid?’ He raised an eyebrow at me warily.

‘All paid up,’ I reassured him. Paying the bills had used up a good chunk of my money, but at least Uncle Arthur could stop worrying for the time being.

‘Good. By June most of the herd will be pregnant,’ he said. The knuckles of his left hand had a line of scabs along them as if he’d grazed them along a wall. He scratched at the edge of one of the scabs until it flicked off on to his lap. He picked it up off his moleskin trousers and dropped it out of the window.

I turned my head away so he didn’t spot my wry smile.
Remind me again why you’re single, Eddy
, I thought to myself.

He gave a great shuddering sigh and I looked back at him. ‘Is Arthur finished with farming, do you think?’

My stomach flipped and for a moment I wasn’t sure what to say.
The truth
, I decided,
just tell him the truth.

‘Gosh, Eddy, I don’t know. He doesn’t want to finish, but I worry about him, so does Auntie Sue. Things are going to have to change, I do know that. One bit of good news, though: Uncle Arthur has agreed to subcontract out the silage this summer.’

Eddy puffed out his cheeks. ‘That’s a bloody relief. Most of the land’s ready for mowing, except the higher fields. We’ll have to move fast – it starts to lose its nutritional value quickly once it’s gone to seed. Want me to make some enquiries?’

‘Would you? Thanks.’

He put the Land Rover into gear and we drove to the left-hand side of the field where one cow was dozing in the sunshine, her calf curled up beside her.

‘Want to know what I’d do?’ he said gruffly, gazing out at the pair of animals.

‘Go on.’ I nodded.

‘Advertise half the herd for sale. Now. While they’re out in’t field all summer. It’s much harder work looking after pregnant cows through winter. That’s what I’d do, if I was Arthur,’ he finished quietly.

‘Thanks, Eddy.’

I reached over and squeezed his hand.

His eyes met mine and I wasn’t surprised to see that they were a bit misty. Neither of us spoke. It was obvious what this would mean. If the Appleby Farm herd were to be sold there would be no job left for Eddy. And yet that was his advice. What a kind and selfless thing to say.

‘Anyway …’ I said brightly, patting his hand. I nodded out of the window, keen to steer the conversation back into safer waters. ‘Are you happy with this lot, then?’

‘Aye, although I’ll think we’ll move ’em on to the next field. The grass is mostly eaten off in this one.’

‘What?’ I squeaked, gripping the door handle as a vision of the two of us flapping our arms at the herd popped into my head. ‘Move them how?’

Eddy chuckled and shook his head. ‘Watch this.’

He put the Land Rover into gear and we began to creep forwards. When we were nearly at the open gate he leaned out of the window and whistled. Really loudly.

‘Come on!’ he bellowed and then whistled again. ‘Come on. Hup, hup, hup.’

I turned round to look behind us. The herd was on the move; some actually running towards us, others clambering clumsily to their feet. ‘Wow! Can I have a go?’

Eddy sucked in a breath. ‘There’s quite a knack to it.’

I hung out of the window and hollered for all I was worth: ‘Come on! Come on. Girls; and you, Dexter. That’s it, keep going! Hup, hup!’

Oh yes
, I thought, settling back in my seat once the herd had all moved into the next field,
I’m a natural.

I grinned all the way back to the farmyard, at which point I saw a car I recognized in front of the house and my happiness setting went into overdrive.

Charlie and Ollie had arrived.

You know when things are going so well that you have to pinch yourself so you know you’re really awake? That life has somehow or other gone from scarily worrying to deliriously perfect? Well, that was how I felt today.

I was stretched out in the sun in front of the farmhouse next to a swathe of deliciously scented lavender, looking at second-hand coffee machines on eBay. I’d positioned myself strategically so that I could still get a WiFi connection, manage to keep an eye on Uncle Arthur, who was sitting in the shade teaching Ollie how to whittle a stick, and steal surreptitious glances at my shirtless boyfriend all at the same time.

I closed my eyes for a second and lifted my face to the sun.

Charlie was digging Auntie Sue’s veggie patch, which ran along the side of the farmhouse. She’d supplied him with a barrow-load of manure and a pile of bamboo canes, and he was cheerfully planting out her peas and French beans. She was now perched in a deckchair, supposedly peeling potatoes but I kept catching her peeking at Charlie’s tattooed and tanned torso.

Not that I blamed her. I hadn’t realized just how much I’d missed him until he’d scooped me up and swung me round on Friday. I still couldn’t quite believe he was here, nor how quickly he and Ollie had been absorbed into the Moorcroft family in the last forty-eight hours.

Things weren’t absolutely perfect, of course: Uncle Arthur was still weak and had a grey tinge to his skin, Ollie had cut his finger twice on the penknife, I’d got sunburn on my nose and Charlie had stumbled into a patch of stinging nettles a moment after stripping his shirt off. Ouch! Plus there had been an awkward moment after Ollie had gone to bed last night when Auntie Sue had gushed that I’d make a wonderful mother, but maybe I was being oversensitive and perhaps it was only me who’d felt awkward …

Even so, if I could bottle my happiness this afternoon, I would be a millionaire. Fact.

Ollie was, as usual, keeping up a constant barrage of questions mixed in with snippets about his own little life, much to my uncle’s amusement.

They were both sitting down: Uncle Arthur in his armchair, which Charlie had carried outside for him, and Ollie on a little stool at his knee. On the ground between them was a pile of willow sticks, they each had a penknife and their knees were covered in wood shavings. It was hard to tell who was having the most fun, but I’d certainly not seen my uncle look so relaxed since I’d arrived at Easter.

‘You’d like
Cars
, Uncle Arthur,’ said Ollie solemnly. ‘It’s even got tractors in it. I’ve brought the DVD with me. Shall we watch it later?’

Uncle Arthur chuckled. ‘Appleby Farm has got real tractors, Ollie, but sadly no DVD player.’

‘You can watch it on my laptop,’ I suggested, rolling my eyes. Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur were the only people I knew still with a teetering stack of videos next to the TV.

Uncle Arthur paused from his whittling to wink at me. ‘Thank heavens for that, hey, Ollie.’

‘At Beaver Scout camp we’re allowed to melt marshmallows over the fire. Next time I’m going to show all the other boys how to whittle our own sticks. Do you like marshmallows?’

‘I do,’ said Uncle Arthur, holding up a fat stick that he’d carved Ollie’s name into. ‘Here you are, son. But I like cooking bread on sticks over the fire. Have you ever done that?’

I smiled at them both; I used to love doing that, too.

Ollie opened his eyes wide and took the stick from my uncle. ‘Wow! Never. Can we do that later?’

‘If your dad says so.’

‘Dad?’ yelled Ollie.

Charlie stood up straight and wiped his arm across his brow. He caught my eye and we both laughed. ‘If Uncle Arthur is up to it, yes.’

‘Cool!’

I patted the grass next to me and Charlie came and sat down.

‘Anyone for ice cream?’ called Auntie Sue, staggering to her feet with a huge pan of peeled potatoes.

‘Me!’ cried Ollie, abandoning his stick and penknife and following Auntie Sue into the kitchen.

‘You can come with me to milk the cows later, if you like,’ I heard her say. ‘Then you can see where the ice cream comes from.’

‘Cool!’

Uncle Arthur let out a sigh and closed his eyes. ‘It’s lovely to have a youngster about the place again. Tiring, though.’

I leaned against Charlie. Heat was radiating from him as he wrapped his arm around my waist and he smelled all manly: sort of lemony and earthy and a tiny bit sweaty. He had a smear of soil on his chest, which somehow added to the appeal, and it was all I could do not to lean back on the grass and pull him on top of me.

‘Do you think your aunt would mind babysitting tonight?’ His lips were right next to my ear and my hormones suddenly went into overdrive.

‘She’d love to. What have you got in mind?’

I met his blue eyes and we both giggled as he waggled his eyebrows seductively.

‘Say no more. It’s a date,’ I said, sealing the deal with a kiss.

We left Ollie with Auntie Sue, making bread dough to cook on the bonfire that Charlie had started for them at the edge of the orchard, and drove out to Lake Windermere for a walk along the western shore in the evening sunshine. It was beautiful and peaceful; just him and me, the occasional family of ducks and the sound of waves lapping gently at the shingly shore.

I so wanted him to love it and he did.

‘It’s a beautiful place, Freya,’ he said as we crunched across the stones to the water’s edge. ‘It must be like being on a permanent holiday.’

My heart soared. That was exactly how I wanted him to feel.

‘And you know something else?’ He slid his eyes to mine briefly before bending down and picking up a pebble.

I shook my head.

‘You’re even more gorgeous than ever. I know that absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that but …’ He shrugged and skimmed the stone across the water. It bounced three times before disappearing into the lake. ‘I can’t put my finger on it. Your face, your hair, even your freckles … you’ve always been a beautiful girl, but now, I don’t know, you just seem to shine.’

‘Oh, Charlie, that’s the sweetest thing ever. I’m not sure that any of it’s true, but I do know that I feel more alive when I’m here and it’s like I’ve found my perfect job.’

‘I see …’ He pinched his lips together and a big frown appeared in his forehead.

Eek, how insensitive was that!

‘Oh, Charlie! I’m so sorry, that’s me all over, speak first and think later, or not think at all in some cases … Oh God.’

He grinned and hugged me to him and I realized he’d been trying hard not to laugh. ‘It’s OK, go on, hit me with your new “more alive” life.’

I looped my arm round his waist and we carried on walking away from the water’s edge and rejoined the path through some trees.

‘Well, I’m outdoors a lot of the time, and I’m flitting from one thing to the next, which I find really exciting. Like this afternoon, for example, one minute I’m learning how to make chocolate ice cream from Gloria and Gaynor’s milk – oh, you should have seen Ollie’s face earlier when Auntie Sue let him watch her milk them, by the way. He couldn’t believe it when the milk started pumping through the tubes – and the next minute I’m on the phone to a hobby farmer who wants to know if Uncle Arthur has any heifers for sale. And the best thing is, Uncle Arthur said that yes, maybe he did and she’s coming up from Gloucestershire some time next week. And that is exactly what Eddy wanted to happen, so that’s … What? Charlie, are you laughing at me again?’

‘No, well, yes, I’m just …’ He shook his head indulgently. ‘I’m not going to pretend I’m happy with you being so far away. But do you know what? When I see you like this, so full of it and fired up, I can’t help but be happy for you.’

‘And that’s why I love you,’ I murmured. ‘For letting me be happy.’

‘Right, that’s it,’ he said, glancing round to check we were alone. ‘That deserves a kiss.’

He tugged my hand and ran, and suddenly we were off the path and kissing behind a tree, then in the bushes and getting covered in bark and leaves and each other.

‘Thank you,’ I said, when we finally came up for air. ‘For everything.’

‘I know, I’m a hero.’ He grinned. ‘How are you ever going to make it up to me?’

‘Well, shall we start with a pint at the pub,’ I suggested, ‘and then take it from there?’

Sunday night and the White Lion was busy.

‘Where do they all come from?’ Charlie was amazed as I pulled him through the throng towards the bar. ‘There are hardly any houses in Lovedale and the place is packed!’

‘I know! Tourists, a lot of them: campers, people in holiday cottages, plus us farmers.’ I gave him a twinkly smile. ‘And it’s a bank holiday weekend, don’t forget.’

Ross was already at the bar, chatting to Lizzie, who was rushed off her feet as usual, pulling pints, handing out change and keeping her eye on who was next in the queue to avoid any arguments.

‘Lizzie, Ross – meet Charlie,’ I beamed proudly as soon as Lizzie had a free millisecond.