by Fay Keenan
‘So, when you’re not making cider or being a legal eagle, what do you like to do on your days off?’ Sophie, relaxed herself by a glass of Carter’s Vintage cider, asked.
‘Well…’ Alex leaned back in one of the comfortable garden chairs that The Stationmaster had in its beer garden, looking up at the darkening sky. ‘When I was younger I was really into motorcycles. I’d spend hours locked away in the garage tinkering with engines, taking them apart, putting them back together…’
‘Real boy stuff,’ Sophie teased.
Alex grinned. ‘You could say that. Mom hated me doing it, mostly because I used to track oil all through the house when I was done, but it was the thing that Harry, my stepdad, and I really bonded over. I was pretty mad when he and Mom got together, and convinced he was going to push me out of the family, but working on the bikes gave us some common ground. We bought the first bike when I was twelve, and I used to ride it all around the backyard, desperate to get out onto the road. It kind of spiralled from there.’
‘Sounds like he found a way in to a relationship with you,’ Sophie replied. She sipped her pint reflectively. ‘So, do you still ride?’
Alex shook his head. ‘Not for a long time.’
‘What made you stop?’ Sophie’s curiosity was piqued by a second glass of Vintage.
Alex’s pause stretched interminably. He gazed up at the sky a little longer, before focussing back on Sophie. ‘The only thing that could have made me stop. I had an accident. A bad one.’ He glanced down at his left knee, where the stitch marked scar Sophie had noticed before was visible as a white line curving over his kneecap and up the inside of his thigh.
‘What happened?’ Sophie had to fight the urge to run a fingertip over the scar.
Alex’s voice dropped. ‘I was twenty, and on a break from college. My girlfriend at that time was staying with me back at Mom and Harry’s place. We got the sudden urge for potato chips, and the local store was a good fifteen miles away. It was warm, and I was stupid; we got on the bike I’d been working on that summer. I knew the brakes weren’t perfect. Harry and I had been trying to work out what the problem was since I’d come home, but we couldn’t quite get it right.’
‘I’m sensing this doesn’t end well,’ Sophie said, sliding her hand into Alex’s.
‘You’re right. We took a corner too fast on the way home. The brakes popped and we were both thrown clear of the bike. Thankfully there wasn’t anyone else on the road. If we’d had been going a few miles per hour faster, we’d have been hurt far worse. As it was, I took the fall hardest; I’d given Jo, my girlfriend, my protective gear to wear, so she avoided being seriously hurt, which I’m grateful for. I spent the rest of the vacation in hospital and my next semester on crutches.’ He laughed ruefully. ‘I swore to Mom I’d never get on a bike again after that.’
‘Did you keep the promise?’
Alex smiled. ‘I did. To be honest, I kind of lost my nerve after that. And then Jo and I broke up at Christmas, which was probably just as well.’ He glanced down at his knee. ‘This is a permanent reminder not to take silly risks, although I’ve taken probably the biggest risk of my life so far coming here. After all—’ He broke off and took a hasty sip of his bottle of Eloise.
Sophie sensed that Alex had only just stopped himself from saying more. He was such an enigma to her; at times she felt as though she really was getting to know him, and then he’d suddenly close back up, and the Canadian reserve would kick in again. ‘What were you going to say?’ she asked as his eyes met hers again.
‘It wasn’t important,’ Alex replied, but something behind his warm brown eyes suggested otherwise. He laughed nervously. ‘Too much cider brings back painful memories… literally!’ He stretched out his scarred leg, as if he was trying to break the moment. Sophie let it go. After all, he didn’t have to tell her anything he didn’t want to, she supposed. They were still so new to each other. Although, she thought, she had opened up to him about losing the baby. She wished he were prepared to do the same.
After a leisurely stroll back from the pub, Alex walked Sophie right to her front door. ‘I had a great time today,’ he said as they reached the garden path.
‘Me too,’ Sophie replied. ‘Would you, er, like to come in for coffee?’
Alex assumed a very serious expression. ‘The real answer is yes,’ he said softly. ‘And I would like so much more than that. But I don’t want to rush you. You’re such an amazing woman, Sophie. I want the timing to be right. And I don’t want things to be awkward between us tomorrow morning at work, either.’
‘Don’t you ever take time off from being a gentleman?’ Sophie asked. Frankly, if she’d had her way, she’d have pulled him into the house and taken him straight upstairs, but, regretfully, she pulled back instead. After all, they really hadn’t known each other that long, and a part of her was still terrified about letting someone get too close to her, after everything she’d been through with Mark. ‘I guess you’re right. There’s no rush.’ She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed him long and lingeringly on the lips. ‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’
‘You bet,’ Alex said huskily as they broke apart. ‘And thank you for a lovely day.’
‘You too,’ Sophie said. As she watched Alex saunter down the garden path, back to Lily’s cottage with a thoroughly exhausted Barney by his side, she felt her stomach flutter in anticipation of seeing him again. Work tomorrow was certainly going to be interesting.
18
‘Spill.’
Sophie nearly dropped her iPad, which had the latest statistics about the blends in the vats for her attention. Usually, hearing ‘spill’ on the vat floor would be her worst nightmare. But this time, she suspected it was going to be far worse. ‘Sorry?’
Laura looked at her friend and raised a speculative eyebrow. ‘You and the Canadian hottie were spotted by virtually the whole village down the pub on a date last night. So, tell me everything.’
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Sophie muttered, fully aware that her cheeks were starting to burn, and that Alex was somewhere on the vat floor nearby, possibly within earshot.
‘Yeah, right. Look, according to Emma Leadbetter, who popped into the pub after her shift at The Cider Kitchen, you and Alex looked very cosy under one of those heated umbrella things that Vern’s put in on the back patio. So tell me: what’s going on?’
‘Nothing’s going on,’ Sophie muttered. Laura was a notorious gossip and the last thing she needed was any pressure from her colleagues right now. She was still on a knife edge about Lily’s long term recovery, and her mother had been flapping about over Skype, trying to organise things that she and Alex had already sorted, even though she was a country away, until late into last night. Besides, two kisses, a dog walk and a few pints at the pub did not constitute a relationship.
‘That’s not what Emma said it looked like,’ Laura persisted. Thankfully, Sophie was saved from further interrogation by the ping of a message in the iPad’s inbox. Swiping down, she was relieved to see that she and David had been summoned to a meeting with the sales director. Wondering what that could be about, she made her excuses and left Laura mid-sentence. She only hoped, as she hurried to meet David, that Laura wasn’t going to switch her attentions to Alex in an attempt to get answers. Alex’s politeness and diplomacy would really be tested if Laura got on his case.
‘Any idea what this is about?’ Sophie asked as she met David in the quad between the barns and the cannery.
‘Not a clue,’ he said gruffly. He wasn’t a man who liked disruption to his routine, and a meeting with the sales team wasn’t a regular occurrence. The cider makers tended to do their thing, and the sales team did the same, only meeting when it was of mutual relevance. David had little time for marketing initiatives and promotions; he just wanted to make the best cider he could. Sophie, while equally passionate about her craft, was more open to input from other areas of the business. She’d even featured in a national television advertising cam
paign a couple of years back for Carter’s. Although she’d grown exasperated at the time it took to set up a take, and there had only been so often she could smile winningly at the camera before her face had started to ache, she had quite enjoyed the experience. Local fame had meant a few knowing smiles in the pub for weeks afterward. She wondered if it was going to be something similar that Sales wanted to talk to her about.
As they entered the sales department office, Sophie noticed Jonathan Carter was already there. She wondered why he’d be gracing the meeting – after all, it was probably only likely to be a feedback session. Sometimes the sales team liked to relay their latest findings from consumer panels in person. Perhaps that was all this was.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Tom Edmundson, the sales director, said as they came through the door. ‘Coffee?’
‘Thanks,’ Sophie said, taking the swiftly offered cup gladly. She’d had a pint or two more than was usual last night, especially on a Sunday, and she felt as if she needed the caffeine hit.
As they settled around the conference table, Tom began. ‘I won’t keep you long, guys.’ He gestured to the notes in front of them. ‘This’ll outline most of what I need to discuss with you, but I wanted to get some input from you both before we proceed.’
Sophie glanced down at the neatly stapled sheets in front of her. Royal West Country Show, she read. Carter’s Cider concession. That was odd, she thought. One of the biggest agricultural and country shows in the South West, it was four days in late July of corporate colours, free samples and brand promotion, usually handled by the sales team, with the odd guest appearance by one of the Carter brothers on the days that the dignitaries came down. Sophie and David, as tasters, didn’t really get involved.
However, this year it seemed it was different. Tom began to explain the new strategy to draw the crowds into the concession. ‘We’re in danger of being outshone by the artisan cider makers this year, since micro cideries appear to be cropping up all over the West Country, and they’ve got a whole marquee to themselves to demonstrate their presses and do some promotion, so we want to promote a more “getting back to your roots” theme.’ He glanced at David and Sophie before continuing; David’s face was as deadpan as ever, although Sophie, who had known him a long time, was convinced she saw the slightest twitch of his mouth at the idea. It had been a long time since Carter’s could claim to be an artisan brand, with international sales booming and thousands of kegs of Gold a day leaving the farm for far flung climes.
‘So, what we’d like to do is send one of you down there for the duration of the show, if that sounds practical.’ Tom consulted his notes. ‘Sophie, I understand that you’ve been mentoring Alex Fraser during his internship here. How would you like to take him down with you and show him what an English country fair is really like? You can see how much he’s learned from you, and it’ll give you the chance to do some public facing work.’ He grinned. ‘Who knows, you might even get recognised from that ad we did a couple of years ago!’
Sophie was irritated to feel herself blushing again at the mention of Alex’s name, not to mention the TV ad. ‘OK,’ she said, trying to play down her flaming cheeks. ‘So we’d be travelling down every day? What about setting up?’
‘Oh, didn’t I mention?’ Tom said, glancing down at his notes again and then looking at Jonathan, who was lounging in the chair next to Tom’s desk. ‘There’s an old friend of Jonathan’s who’s setting up a glamping business just off the Mendips and who’s keen to get a bit of publicity, so she and her husband will be lending us a couple of fully kitted out demo yurts for the duration of the show. During the day, they’ll be semi-open to the show goers to look around, so I wouldn’t go taking anything too valuable with you, but they’re yours for the nights if you don’t fancy commuting down every day.’
‘That sounds great,’ Sophie said. ‘Who else is going?’
‘Just you two,’ Tom said. ‘Although Jonathan’ll be down at some point, and I’ll probably pop down for one of the days with our new sales rep, Steph, to show her how things work. She’s new to the West Country and hasn’t been to the show before, so she’s coming for the experience. You and Alex can do some demonstrations and tastings, and we’ll see how it goes.’
Sophie’s stomach flipped. Four days virtually alone with Alex, in the open air, selling cider all day, was going to be intense. How would they cope with being in each other’s pockets for all that time? And what would she do about Lily? How would she manage in her cottage alone for the duration of the Royal West Country Show?
‘Let me just check out a couple of things,’ Sophie replied, aware that Tom was after an answer. ‘Can I get back to you by the end of the day?’
‘Sure,’ Tom replied. ‘Just let me know if there’s anything you need to help make it happen, and we’ll get together to discuss some more details next week.’ Tom put his papers down and stood from the table. ‘The show kicks off on the Wednesday, and runs until Saturday, so I’ll make sure you’re cleared to go. David, can you spare Sophie for a few days?’
‘Looks like I’ll have to,’ David replied gruffly.
‘Lovely. I’ll email you with the details once we’ve got them. It’ll be a busy few days, but hopefully good fun as well. The Royal West Country show exhibitors know how to put on a good party when the punters leave, so it should be… memorable.’
Sophie smiled, hoping that ‘memorable’ didn’t mean embarrassingly unforgettable. As she left the sales office, David turned to her. ‘Are you sure you’re OK to go with just Alex?’ he asked her as they headed back to the vat floor. ‘You seemed a bit quiet in there.’
Sophie was touched by his concern. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘And if I don’t fancy staying over, I can always come home each night.’ She might have to anyway, she thought, if she couldn’t organise someone to look in on Lily.
‘Good girl,’ David replied. From someone else, Sophie would have found this patronising, but David had known her since she was eighteen. She knew he’d always looked out for her best interests, and, although he couldn’t possibly know the ins and outs of what had happened to her lately, she knew he’d sensed her vulnerability. She was grateful for his kindness. In the absence of her father, he’d made a pretty good substitute over the years. She’d told him about Lily’s fall the moment she’d got into work that morning, and she knew he was keeping an eye on her, trying to make things a little easier today.
‘Well, I’d better head off and break the news to Alex that he’s going to the ball!’ She laughed, to break the moment.
‘He won’t know what’s hit him,’ David replied, deadpan again. ‘I’ll see you back in the office.’
‘See you in a bit,’ Sophie replied, wondering what Alex was going to make of the news. She hoped their working relationship would stand it. And as for any other relationship… who could say? And then there was the matter of Lily’s recuperation, of course. And who would walk Barney if both she and Alex were down at the show? Suddenly the whole idea of going to the Royal West Country Show seemed even more impractical.
Over lunch, Sophie caught up with Alex, who’d been working with the technicians at the cannery all morning. The delay meant that she was even more nervous at the prospect of telling him about the Royal West Country Show, but she screwed her courage to the sticking place, grabbed a sandwich and a drink from the canteen and spotted him sitting on one of the picnic benches outside the dining room that overlooked the Royal Orchard.
‘Have you had a good morning?’ she asked as she sat down.
‘Yeah, thanks,’ Alex replied. ‘Although I don’t think my hearing will ever be the same again after spending the morning in the cannery! Even with the ear defenders on, it’s loud in there.’
‘I try not to go in unless absolutely necessary.’ Sophie laughed. ‘I far prefer the relative calm of the vat floor.’
‘You and me both.’
They munched in companionable silence for a moment or two. ‘So, I had a meeting with
Tom from Sales this morning,’ Sophie began, once she’d taken a drink from her can of Diet Coke. ‘We’re going on a jolly.’
‘A jolly?’ Alex looked quizzical. ‘What do you mean?’
Sophie grinned. ‘Sorry. A trip. We’re going to the Royal West Country Show.’
‘Sounds interesting,’ Alex said. ‘What exactly does it involve?’
‘Well, usually it’s just the sales team who get to go, but this year the firm wants to play up the blending and heritage side of the business, so we’re going to go down and spend some time doing some blending and tasting masterclasses, as well as doing some promotion. You know the kind of thing, smile at the public, hand out some samples while dressed head to toe in corporate colours. Are you up for that?’
Alex grinned. ‘Could be fun. So where exactly is it?’
‘Just outside Shepton Mallet,’ Sophie replied. ‘That’s about an hour’s drive from here, into real Somerset territory.’
Alex looked quizzical. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You think we’re rural here,’ Sophie joked. ‘Wait until you get past the Somerset Levels and into the darkest shire. David took me on a tour of some of the smaller cider makers in the county when I first started working for Carter’s, and it was a real eye-opener, even for someone who was raised in the county; smallholdings in the middle of nowhere, that look like they haven’t joined the twenty-first century. But also some really amazing innovations. The Royal West Country Show is the chance to see both sides up close.’
‘Sounds great,’ Alex replied. ‘So, do I need to rent a car or something?’
‘No, not unless you really want to,’ Sophie said. ‘I’m happy to drive, and we’ve got, er, accommodation for the duration of the show, if we want it, or we can commute there each day.’
‘When you say accommodation…?’
