Appleby Farm (30 page)

Charlie.
She meant Charlie and I’d automatically thought of Harry. Eek. Now I was truly blushing.

‘What? Oh. Sorry.’ I shifted in my seat and was saved any further embarrassment as Lizzie came running across the yard towards us, holding her hands out as if she was about to conduct a full orchestra.

‘Guys, guys, guys.’ She checked to make sure we were both listening. ‘I bring news. She might be an absolute nightmare, but my sister does have her uses.’

Lizzie paused, flashing us a beaming white smile to lend a touch of drama to the announcement. ‘Victoria has agreed to give you an on-air mention on the day of your grand opening! Ta-dah!’

‘Yay!’ I yelled, jumping up and punching the air. ‘Thanks, Lizzie!’

How amazing was that! PR on our opening day would kick us off to a brilliant start.
Knickers to the soft launch idea
, I thought.
Why not start off as you mean to go on: loud and proud?
And anyway, what could possibly go wrong?

Twenty-four hours to go and counting!

Deep breaths, deep breaths …

Yep. Only twenty-four hours to go until the Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms opened its doors for business. At this precise moment, it didn’t have any doors to open. But Goat and his crew were on the case. It wasn’t just the new glass barn doors that were being fitted; the loos were having their cubicle doors hung too. At the moment the toilets were bright and clean but a little on the open-plan side for most people’s tastes. This was the builders’ last job and then, as promised, they would be finished right on schedule.

I had barely slept for the last few nights and I think it was only adrenalin that was keeping me going. To be fair, we were all slightly speeded-up versions of ourselves today, tackling our jobs with a zeal normally associated with caffeine overdose: Auntie Sue was stocking up our lovely ice-cream counter, which was right at the front of the tea rooms; Eddy was making some big picture frames from spare bits of timber; Tilly was in charge of final decorations, including hanging bunting, picking sweet peas for all the tables and sticking wallpaper into the frames as soon as Eddy had made them. And Lizzie had taken a couple of days off from the White Lion to help us out and was giving all the crockery a final polish before stacking it behind the counter on the lovely duck-egg-blue shelves.

Numerous delicious cakes had been baked by Auntie Sue and this afternoon, Lizzie, Tilly and I were going to decorate them. That would just leave the scones to make at the last minute so that they would be as light as air on our opening day.

Right now my job was to help Ross position the new signs outside. We had already sorted the ones for the car park (previously known as Clover Field), we’d carried a seven-foot oak post, a bag of ready-mixed concrete, a shovel and the sign itself down the farm track to Lovedale Lane and Ross was digging a hole for the post.

‘I reckon that’s deep enough,’ said Ross, wiping his forehead on his arm and ramming the shovel into the ground like a spear.

I peered down the hole. ‘Agreed. Shall I hold the post while you pour the concrete?’

Ross nodded. We positioned the post and I held it firm while he tipped the concrete from the bag. ‘You’re a real inspiration to Lizzie and me, you know, Freya,’ he said, concentrating on his work and avoiding my eye.

My heart squeezed at his ‘Lizzie and me’ – they were such a cute couple and I’d loved seeing them grow close since I’d been at the farm. ‘Oh, Ross, aim higher than me to be inspired!’ I laughed, flattered none the less.

‘No, seriously.’ He raised his face to mine and stared at me earnestly. ‘Breathing new life into a Lakeland farm is exactly what I want to do when I have my own place.’

‘Hey, Ross!’ I exclaimed. ‘Why didn’t I think of this before? You should make an offer on Appleby Farm. You could use your inheritance! You could take over, build the herd back up and run it as it is. Then Eddy could stay too.’ I gave him my best eager smile.

I’d been worrying a lot about Eddy recently. He was nearly sixty and he’d worked here all his life. I couldn’t see him being happy working anywhere else.

‘Nice idea, Freya.’ Ross grinned shyly. He picked up a splint and nailed it to the bottom of the post to support it while it dried. ‘But the money I inherited from my mum won’t buy a farm this big. Anyway, I want to finish uni first and then get a bit more experience working with someone else before I invest in somewhere of my own.’

‘Fair enough, it was just a thought.’ I sighed. ‘Right. The moment of glory.’

I picked up the wooden sign and unwrapped it from its protective plastic covering. It was a thing of beauty: duck-egg-blue painted wood, with our lovely logo picked out in black. I handed it to Ross.

‘What if you get a customer today before you’re ready?’ he asked, stretching up to reach the hook on the post.

I laughed. ‘That’s a nice problem to have! Um … I suppose I’ll give them a cup of tea on the house and invite them to our opening tomorrow.’

‘Good answer.’ He grinned. ‘OK. Done.’

We both stood back to admire the new sign:
Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms.

Just looking at it made my stomach flip with pride. It dawned on me all of a sudden how far I’d come since my waitressing days in Kingsfield. I had my own business!

But for how long?

Julian had taken to phoning Uncle Arthur every week to ask if he’d reached to a decision about selling the farm. So far Uncle Arthur had refused to give him a definite answer, but how long would it be before he caved in? I’d worked so hard to get to launch day, I couldn’t bear to let Julian come along and ruin it now.

My shoulders sagged and I couldn’t help a little sigh escaping.

‘Fantastic,’ said Ross, mistaking my sigh for a happy one. ‘What a team.’ He put his arm round my shoulders and squeezed.

‘Tha— Arrrgh!’ My thanks morphed into a scream as a car came to a sudden stop behind us and tooted its horn.

Ross and I turned as one to see Victoria in a little red open-top sports car, grinning at us wickedly at the roadside.

‘Now, now, you two.’ She tutted slyly, pushed her sunglasses on to the top of her head and wagged a finger. ‘I’m not sure Lizzie would entirely approve of that sort of conduct in public.’

‘What do you think of our new sign?’ I said, ignoring the jibe.

Victoria squinted as if she couldn’t read it clearly. ‘Very rustic. Now, where should I park?’

Er?

I looked at Ross, who just shrugged.

I must have looked blank because Victoria rolled her eyes dramatically. ‘Lizzie
did
tell you I was going to feature you on my radio show, didn’t she?’

I swallowed. A
mention
, I thought,
just a mention. Nobody said anything about a visit.
‘Yes, but …’

‘Oh, car park!’ She pointed at the newly nailed-up sign. ‘I’ll park up, grab my stuff and see you in a mo.’

And with that she accelerated up the farm track in a haze of dust.

‘EEK!’ I squealed. ‘What are we going to do? We haven’t even got any cake ready to offer her!’

‘Er …’ Ross frowned.

This was our one chance to be on the radio. I could not afford to cock it up.
Think, Freya, think.

‘Gimme your two-way radio,’ I demanded.

Ross handed it over and I started to run up the farm track back towards the barn, speaking into the radio as I went.

‘Eddy, is Auntie Sue there?’

‘She is.’

‘Tell her to drop everything and get over to the house and bake some scones. Small ones so they cook quicker. Victoria Moon is on her way. Repeat, Victoria Moon is at the farm. Ooh, and tell the builders to hide when we come in.’

My pulse was racing but I had a plan. And far from being nervous, I felt excited and elated. I
loved
this sort of challenge. I would give Victoria a tour, take her round the whole farm, hand her the press pack I’d prepared for the local paper, which I hoped would be coming tomorrow, show her some of my ‘before and after’ photos of the barn and just generally fob her off until Auntie Sue’s scones were out of the oven.

Sorted.

By the time I reached the car park I was ready to meet my first guest and conduct my first ever radio interview.

‘I’m massively grateful to you for this, Victoria,’ I said, rushing in case she needed help with the big recording pack thing that I’d seen her with at Rigg Farm. But she only had a small handbag with her. Odd. ‘It will give us such a boost on opening day.’

‘So you should be,’ she murmured, sliding her oversized sunglasses back in place. ‘You’ll be the first in my series of “Victoria’s Secret Cafés”.’

‘That’s great!’ I said, taking deliberately slow steps to make the journey from the car park to the farmyard as long as possible. ‘How did the “Victoria’s Secret Gardens” feature go?’

She waved a hand. ‘I canned it. Well, as I said to the head gardener at Highfield Hall, once you’ve seen one garden you’ve seen them all.’

I knotted my eyebrows, doing my utmost not to laugh. ‘Highfield Hall? Haven’t they just won an award from Cumbria Tourism for their sunken gardens?’

‘Really?’ She paused to stare at me. ‘That’s odd because they’ve just pulled all their advertising from the radio station. If they had half a brain they’d ramp it up now that they’re award-winning to bring in the punters. Fools. Look, I haven’t got all day. Can we get on with it?’

‘Sure!’ I beamed. ‘I’ll give you the tour.’

It was my finest hour. There was not a single detail of Appleby Farm that I missed out.

I took her into the orchard and pointed out the organic fruit that went into our apple juice and apple tarts. We leaned over the wall into Calf’s Close where the Jersey cows were grazing, and then I showed her the dairy where Auntie Sue made all our own butter and ice cream using their milk. I took her through Auntie Sue’s veggie patch and explained about our strawberry and raspberry homemade jam. We sat on a bench in the orchard and she had a cursory flick through the press pack and my photographs. I told her all about my love of vintage tea sets as we walked through the yard towards the barn.

Behind me in the distance I could hear Goat barking orders to his team. I spotted that the barn doors had been fitted and I saw Tilly creep past, bent double with handfuls of sweet peas, but so far there was no sign of Auntie Sue and her scones.

And I’d run out of things to show Victoria. I ran a finger around the neck of my T-shirt nervously, before having a brainwave.

‘Shall we do the interview now? I could tell you about—’

Victoria put up her hand. ‘Pur-lease, Freya. No more. I’m barely awake here. Now can we see inside the tea rooms? And I presume you’ll offer me a cup of tea? I’m gasping!’

My eyebrows shot up but, to my credit, the rest of me remained calm.

‘Of course.’ I laughed a little too loudly. ‘Follow me.’

Right on cue, Auntie Sue appeared on the kitchen doorstep bearing a tray covered with a gingham cloth. She bustled across the yard and darted into the barn just in time.

My heart was beating like a drum as I ushered Victoria inside ahead of me and I had to stop myself from gasping aloud at the sight.

I’d only been away from it for a little over an hour and I had lived and breathed the place for the last few weeks, but now it was as if I was seeing it through someone else’s eyes. The barn in my absence had truly been transformed into the Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms.

My eyes filled with tears as they moved from the English-rose wallpaper, which Tilly had framed and mounted, to the polka-dot bunting strung around the walls. The scrubbed-pine tables were adorned with fresh flowers in their pretty little bottles, and the air was filled with the scent of summer. Lizzie stood in front of the shelves, which groaned under the weight of the exquisite cups and saucers, adding a bright pop of colour to the otherwise pastel palette of the room. Auntie Sue, slightly pink from baking, stood behind her ice-cream counter, and Tilly, with twinkling eyes and a wide smile, pulled back a chair and gestured for Victoria to sit. I couldn’t see or hear the builders, so they’d obviously obeyed orders to make themselves scarce, bless them. The whole effect was magical.

It was too, too perfect. And for a moment, I didn’t trust myself to speak.

I glanced at Victoria. She too was silent, her eyebrows raised and her mouth turned down at the corners in what I read as a ‘grudgingly impressed’ face.

‘Tea?’ I managed in a strangled voice.

‘And scones?’ added Tilly, racing back to the counter.

Victoria made a show of looking at her watch as she took a seat. ‘No carbs after one o’clock for me,’ she announced primly. She cast her eye disapprovingly over the rest of us, adding, ‘I prefer the lean look.’

‘For the love of Pete!’ muttered Auntie Sue, jabbing her hands on to her hips.

‘No carbs after one?’ scoffed Lizzie. ‘Since when?’

‘Choose your brew,’ I boomed, shoving the tea guide into Victoria’s face to distract her from her critics. ‘We’re aiming to offer the widest range of teas in the Lake District.’

‘Oh, anything,’ said Victoria, looking bored, or annoyed – it was hard to tell with those sunglasses on. She waved the leaflet away. ‘I’m not fussy when it comes to tea.’

Hold on a minute! I felt a knot of tension twist my insides. It was Victoria who’d given me the idea for the tea rooms in the first place, after complaining about the tea in the White Lion. But I bit back a retort and smiled sweetly as Lizzie brought over a pot of English Breakfast tea.

‘Thanks, Lizzie.’ I smiled as we exchanged knowing glances.

‘Here you are, madam,’ said Lizzie. ‘A pot of unfussy tea.’

‘Bloody hell!’ Victoria spluttered, crashing her tea cup down into its saucer. ‘What on earth is that?’

I followed her stare upwards to where Goat had installed a glass panel high up in the barn wall from the spinning gallery. Four builders’ bums were squashed up against the glass, as the men bent forward to lean on the wooden balustrade.

So that was where they were. Gulp.

It was enough to put you off your Belgian buns.

‘So,’ I said brightly, resisting the urge to snap my fingers in her face to drag her attention back to me, ‘what do you think?’