Summer in the Orchard

by Fay Keenan

  ‘What the hell are you doing down there? Didn’t you see the signs?’

  Meredith’s head snapped up and, dazzled momentarily by the sun glinting through the branches of the ancient tree, she couldn’t quite make out the tree surgeon’s features. What she could see was a long pair of jeaned and booted legs leading to a harness around a rather muscular bottom, and, unnervingly, hands holding a huge, still running chainsaw.

  ‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘But you could have checked below you before you chopped that branch off and nearly decapitated me.’

  ‘I shouted the moment I saw you.’ The tree surgeon’s voice was still raised. ‘You must have had your music up so loud you didn’t hear. Perhaps you should think about turning it down in future.’

  Meredith felt a prickle of irritation at his condescending manner, and then surprise as he switched off the chainsaw and attached it to a hook on his belt and then abseiled down a little. It was only when he was directly above her head, and out of the dazzle of the sun, that she thought he looked familiar.

  ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ Mocking blue eyes, as clear as her own, stared down at her from the vantage point above her head. Still harnessed to the thick upper limbs of the oldest tree in the orchard, he grinned.

  Meredith was irritated by his insouciant manner, and even more irritated with herself that she’d noticed his pert backside in those tight blue jeans; although, to be fair, his arse was pretty much in her eyeline now he’d abseiled down that bloody tree.

  ‘You’ll have to remind me,’ she said more coolly than she felt.

  ‘My dad and yours are still good mates,’ he said as he adjusted the harness and slid back down to ground level. Extending a hand sardonically, he grinned. ‘Although since you’ve been away for a while, I’m not surprised you don’t recognise me. I’m Joe Flanagan.’

  Meredith’s mouth dropped open in amazement. The last time she’d seen Joe Flanagan he’d been sixteen years old, gangly and spotty and had a shock of red hair so colourful it clashed with his face every time he blushed, which she remembered him doing a lot. Now, four years later, he was taller, broader, the spots had gone and in their place was an air of self-assurance that was far more attractive. And his hair might have still been red, but it was cut in a far more flattering style.

  ‘Crikey,’ she said unguardedly, ‘you’ve, er, changed.’ She cursed herself for being so gauche, and felt a blush creeping up her cheeks.

  ‘Whereas you seem exactly the same,’ Joe replied. ‘I recognised you immediately. The boss’ daughter, come home to take her place in the empire. Right down to the total disregard for your own safety, and that of others.’

  ‘You’re the one who nearly took my head off with that flaming branch!’ Meredith bit back, not in the mood to be told off by some apprentice tree surgeon.

  ‘Oh, and I suppose you’re going to run straight to Daddy and tell him all about it, are you?’ Joe sneered.

  Meredith’s temper flared. ‘That’s a bit patronising. What makes you think I’d do that?’

  Joe laughed. ‘Daddy’s set you up since the day you were born to take over this place. I suppose that starts now, does it?’

  ‘Why should you care?’ Meredith retorted. ‘You don’t know me.’

  Joe’s grin got a little harder. ‘I know your type well enough.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask your boyfriend? I’m sure he’ll tell you everything.’ And with that he strolled off out of the orchard, leaving Meredith lost for words and feeling distinctly uncomfortable. Hurrying on towards The Cider Kitchen, she found herself wondering just what she’d done to make Joe Flanagan so offhand with her. Perhaps the tree branch was intended as a warning, she thought darkly. The question was, of what?

  After a short walk, Meredith arrived at The Cider Kitchen to the sound of raised voices, one male, and one unmistakeably female. Hesitating outside the front door of the restaurant, which had been converted from a historic barn on the Carter’s Cider site a couple of years back and had become the destination venue in the village, Meredith sighed. Not again, she thought. Aunt Caroline and Uncle Jonathan had been arguing a lot lately, and not just in the usual snippy way that characterised their relationship. Whatever was going on between them felt deeper, more hurtful somehow. She hoped they weren’t going to call time on their marriage after just over a year.

  ‘No, you don’t understand, Jonathan,’ Caroline was saying as Meredith pushed open the door. ‘It’s like talking to a fucking brick wall, sometimes.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can say that when you’ve spent the past forty-eight hours barely talking to me at all,’ Jonathan, from his position by the bar where he was sorting out the cutlery for the lunchtime service, retorted. ‘I’m not a frigging psychic, Caroline.’

  ‘No one’s asking you to be,’ Caroline said. ‘I just need a bit of space, that’s all. But that’s clearly too much to fucking ask.’ She headed up the stairs, oblivious to Meredith’s entry into the restaurant, and the door to the mezzanine level above the serving floor of the restaurant slammed.

  ‘Hi, Uncle Jonno,’ Meredith said brightly, instinctively wanting to relieve the obvious tension.

  ‘Merry, darling.’ Jonathan put the cutlery back down again on the bar with a clatter. ‘How are you doing?’

  Meredith noticed the dark shadows under her beloved uncle’s eyes, and her heart leapt in concern. She’d waited so long for him to find his own happiness; she couldn’t bear it if that happiness was now under threat.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ Meredith replied, glad on some level of the distraction from her heartbreak over Flynn. ‘And you?’ Her eyes flickered up to the mezzanine level of the building, where Caroline had so recently vanished.

  ‘Oh, we’re OK,’ Jonathan replied, but his smile didn’t quite light up his eyes the way it usually did. Meredith wasn’t convinced, but, mindful of her own fragile emotional state, she decided not to push her uncle for details just yet. She hoped that whatever was causing the upset between him and Caroline, they’d manage to work it out. After all, they’d overcome some pretty incredible odds in their relationship, including the threat from an insalubrious old acquaintance of Caroline’s, who had been determined to ruin her new life in Little Somerby. She was sure, whatever it was, that they’d eventually be fine.

  14

  A little while later on Saturday afternoon, Sophie and Alex were ambling towards the downs with a brown paper bag of freshly made panini from one of the artisan delis on Park Street, and a couple of bottles of water. Stashed in a carrier bag were also two bottles of cool lager, perfect for a summer’s day overlooking the glories of the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

  ‘Bristol’s a beautiful city,’ Alex said as the ground started to even out after the long steep climb up Park Street and then Whiteladies Road.

  ‘It is,’ Sophie agreed. ‘Although that beauty came at a price, of course.’ The city had long and controversial links with the slave trade, the gains from which had built many of the beautiful buildings that they’d spent the morning exploring. The Georgian House, for example, was built on the proceeds of the owner’s profits from the sugar plantations of the West Indies. It was a history that Bristol had long tried to atone for, with Pero’s Bridge on the Harbourside being the latest memorial to the losses and tragedies of that time in history.

  ‘Of course,’ Alex replied. ‘After all, John Cabot discovered a lot of territory in the name of the British Crown. My middle school history lessons consisted of a lot of British Colonial History.’

  They were nearing the flat of the downs, now, at the top of the Avon Gorge. Wandering in step together, they walked along the top of the gorge, staring out across the river to the Clifton Suspension Bridge.

  ‘Shall we stop here and have our lunch?’ Sophie asked. She was reasonably fit, but they’d been walking for a while and she felt like a breather.

  ‘Sure.’ Alex gestured to one of the park b
enches that looked out over the expanse of the Avon Gorge. ‘Will this do for a view?’

  Sophie smiled. This was a romantic place to eat their lunch, and, despite her concerns about mixing business with pleasure, it had been fun exploring the city so far.

  As they munched on their panini, Sophie tried to focus on the view, rather than her companion. Despite the breathtaking beauty of the panorama, she found herself glancing sideways a fair bit, taking in Alex’s long legs in his cargo shorts, the hint of toned biceps as his T-shirt rose up his arms and his large hands as he reached for the second half of his panini.

  ‘This was such a good idea,’ Sophie said between bites of her own sandwich. ‘Gran keeps telling me to make the most of my days off, and the fact that we live near such a great city, but I suppose it’s like anything; if it’s on your doorstep, you just don’t visit it.’

  ‘That must be a British thing,’ Alex said wryly. ‘Back home, the tourist trail is done as often by locals as it is actual tourists. But I guess when you’re surrounded by as much history as you are, perhaps you take it for granted.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Sophie replied. ‘I mean, I live three miles from Cheddar Gorge and I haven’t actually been to the caves since I was a teenager.’

  Alex cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps we could go together before I go home,’ he said. ‘Although you don’t sound like you’d be much of a tour guide!’

  Sophie punched his arm playfully. ‘I bet I’d still know more about it than you!’

  ‘Really?’ Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you know about it, then?’

  ‘Um, er, well…’ Sophie stalled for time, put on the spot. ‘There are a lot of caves. And some of them have been used to store cheese in.’

  ‘Brilliant,’ Alex said dryly. ‘I feel like I know the place already!’

  Sophie laughed. ‘Well, how about we go and discover it together next Saturday?’

  ‘I’d like that.’ Alex’s voice softened, and, in that slightly unnerving way that he had, he looked Sophie deep in the eyes. ‘I’m having a really nice time today.’

  ‘Me too,’ Sophie said equally softly. ‘It’s been ages since I’ve had so much fun.’

  There was a pause between them that felt loaded with something akin to longing. Sophie’s hand crept closer to Alex’s where it rested on the bench between them, and she felt the warmth as Alex shifted ever so slightly closer to her, his head tilting to one side. She could feel his breath crossing the short space between them, and her heartbeat quickened. He was going to kiss her, she knew it. Despite her reservations about what it might do to their working relationship, her lips parted in anticipation. Just as their mouths were about to bridge the gap, the theme tune from The Muppet Show cut into the moment like a discord.

  Sophie jumped away, cursing inwardly. She had been aching for that kiss. Alex pulled back, too, smiling gently, signalling without words that it was all right, that there would be time. Seeing that the call was from Lily, she pressed the green button.

  ‘Hi, Gran. Is everything OK? Did you want me to pick you up anything in town?’ At Lily’s response, Sophie felt her stomach sink through the park bench, and her heart begin to beat faster. ‘Oh, my goodness. How? OK, explain when I get to you. I’ll be there straight away. Yes, don’t worry, I’ll make sure to let Barney out, or Alex can. Is there anything you need from the cottage? OK, I’ll be right there.’

  With trembling hands, Sophie pressed the red End Call button and stared, speechless at the phone.

  ‘What’s wrong? Is Lily all right?’ Alex’s concerned tone broke into Sophie’s thoughts.

  ‘We need to get back to Little Somerby right away,’ Sophie said, her voice trembling as much as her hands were. ‘Gran’s had a bad fall and she’s been taken to Weston General Hospital.’

  15

  In the end, not worrying about the extra expense, Alex and Sophie took a taxi back to the village. As the car ate up the miles between Bristol and Little Somerby, Sophie went through agonies of worry. Lily had been quite vague on the phone, merely saying that she’d had a fall on the street near her cottage and that the hospital suspected a broken hip. She knew that Lily hated talking on the phone, and wasn’t surprised at the lack of detail, but she still feared the worst. A badly broken hip could immobilise Lily for quite some time, and Sophie knew how restless her grandmother got when forced to slow down. Being put on bed rest would both irritate and depress her, Sophie was sure of it.

  Stopping in at her grandmother’s cottage to grab a few necessary items, Sophie had almost forgotten about her near miss of a kiss with Alex on the park bench.

  ‘Will you be OK?’ he asked gently, seeing her set jaw and shaking hands.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Sophie said. ‘I just hope Gran will.’ She blinked furiously. ‘I’d better shoot straight to the hospital. Can you stay with Barney and walk him later?’

  ‘Sure,’ Alex said. They’d let Barney out into the back garden of the cottage when they arrived, and the Weimaraner was now stretched out on the warm paving stones, enjoying the sunshine and oblivious to the drama around him. ‘But call me when you know how Lily is, and let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

  ‘I will.’ Sophie went to turn away, but Alex caught her arm.

  ‘Will you be OK to drive?’

  ‘Honestly, I’ll be all right,’ Sophie said. ‘And I’m glad you’re here to keep an eye on Barney. I just need to find out exactly what happened. It’s so unlike Gran to lose her footing like that. She prides herself on her sense of balance for someone her age.’ A shard of worry prickled in Sophie’s heart. What if Lily was finally starting to deteriorate? She’d been so strong for all of Sophie’s life; what if her grandmother was becoming too frail? Trying not to panic, she hurried to her car, grateful at least that she didn’t have to dash away later to get back to Barney. Alex lodging at Lily’s was certainly a godsend. It was only as she pulled away from Lily’s cottage and glanced back to see Alex in her rear view mirror that her heart lurched with longing again; she felt as though they’d been on the cusp of something.

  *

  ‘Honestly, it’s all a fuss about nothing. I’m all right.’ Lily’s expression was verging on put out as she struggled to sit up in the hospital bed. ‘I can’t think why they want to keep me in. I’m more worried about Barney.’

  ‘Barney’s fine,’ Sophie said, passing Lily the glass of water she’d requested. ‘And he’ll continue to be fine. Alex is going to walk him in the morning and evening, and I’m going to pop in on my lunch break and let him out for a pee until you’re home. And probably for a while after that, too.’

  ‘Don’t be daft,’ Lily said, taking a large sip of her water. ‘It’s just a bit of bruising; I’ll be back on my feet in no time.’

  ‘We need to wait and see what the result of the X-rays is,’ Sophie replied. ‘Hopefully the doctor will be here soon.’ She glanced at her watch.

  ‘Somewhere to be?’ Lily asked.

  ‘No, of course not,’ Sophie replied. ‘But I promised Mum I’d give her a call when we know what the prognosis is, and I want to be able to put her mind at rest.’

  ‘I’d just ring her anyway,’ Lily said. ‘They’ll probably let me out of here tonight.’ She sank back against the starched white hospital pillows. ‘I hope so, anyway. I loathe sleeping anywhere but my own bed.’

  At that moment, the door to Lily’s private room opened and a stern looking doctor in his mid fifties entered the room. ‘Mrs Henderson? Good to see you’ve been made comfortable.’

  ‘As comfortable as can be expected,’ muttered Lily. ‘But not overly so. I’m hoping I won’t need to be too comfortable, since I’ll be going home tonight.’

  The doctor glanced down at his notes. ‘I’m afraid not,’ he said crisply. ‘The X-ray shows a hairline fracture on your right hip where you hit the ground, so you’ll be staying with us on bed rest for a few days at least.’

  ‘Ridiculous!’ Lily snapped. ‘I’m as fit
as a fiddle. There must be some mistake.’ She struggled to sit up, but couldn’t disguise a wince as she tried to swing her legs across the bed.

  ‘Just you stay put,’ the doctor said. ‘Or you’ll end up doing more damage.’ He glanced down at his notes. ‘If you rest up here for a day or two, take your pain medication as directed and promise to take things easily, we’ll discharge you. But if you overdo things, you run the risk of doing more damage.’

  ‘And then what?’ Lily said. ‘I’ve got a publishing deadline and a dog to walk.’ Lily’s legions of fans were already clamouring for a new story.

  ‘I’d encourage you to try to stay active,’ the doctor replied, ‘but not without the aid of crutches or a walking frame for six weeks. We can book you in for some physiotherapy sessions, which should help to keep you mobile.’

  ‘I’m not using a Zimmer frame,’ Lily said mutinously.

  ‘Gran,’ Sophie warned, ‘perhaps you should give it a go. It might help.’

  ‘I’m not on my last legs yet,’ Lily said, ‘and I’m buggered if I’m going to look as though I am by using one of those things.’

  Unwilling to argue the point in front of the doctor, Sophie didn’t reply. So long as Lily agreed to stay put for a few days, she thought, it would be easier to pick her battles.

  ‘The pharmacy trolley will be around at six o’clock with your next dose of pain medication,’ the doctor said. ‘And I’ll see you again tomorrow morning. You’re not catheterised, so call the nurse when you need to use a bedpan, and tomorrow we’ll see about getting you up on your feet.’

  ‘Heaven forbid.’ Lily rolled her eyes.

  Sophie felt a stab of sympathy for her bedridden grandmother. Lily was fiercely protective of her independence, and hated to rely on anyone. Sophie knew that being forced into bed was the worst thing in the world for her spirits. But at least she had a private room on the Waterside Suite, and so wouldn’t be kept awake by other patients on the ward.