Country Loving

by Cathy Woodman

  ‘What do you think?’ I say, trying to break the tension between us.

  Leo steps back, bumping into the sofa. He recovers himself and answers, ‘I think you look absolutely beautiful.’

  ‘I wish you were staying,’ I say, bursting into tears.

  ‘Please don’t cry, Stevie,’ he says awkwardly. ‘I never meant to make you cry.’

  ‘It isn’t you,’ I mutter. ‘It’s me. Leo, I love you …’

  Leo’s face contorts with pain as he grapples for my hands, squeezing them tight as if he’ll never let them go.

  ‘Let’s sit down and talk,’ he says. ‘I’ve got half an hour before I’m due at the manor. I think this is something we should have done before.’

  We sit side by side, Leo gently massaging my hand.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t said it now,’ I begin.

  ‘I’m glad you did. I love you too, Stevie. There, I’ve said it. I love you.’ He leans in and kisses the tracks of my tears from my cheek down to the curve of my chin. ‘I’ve been a complete idiot. I should never have ended it with you. It was a terrible mistake, the worst one I’ve ever made.’

  ‘I understand. You’ve loved and lost before – first your fiancée and then your nephew. I should have been straight with you.’

  Leo clears his throat. ‘It wasn’t just about what you said and did, Stevie. One of the reasons I backed out was because of Nick.’

  ‘Nick? What has he got to do with it?’

  ‘When he turned up to see you, I gave him coffee and biscuits because he came straight to the caravan and knocked on my door, wanting to talk to me. I was trawling through some job ads, looking for somewhere close to Talyton St George.’

  ‘So you were going to stay?’

  ‘Yes, but then Nick asked me to leave you alone because you and he were hoping to make a go of it, to get back together for the baby. He seemed pretty optimistic.’

  ‘How dare he do that!’ I stand up and move towards the window, hugging my arms around my chest. ‘How could he interfere?’ I turn to face Leo once more. ‘I’d already told him I wouldn’t consider it. I didn’t love him, Leo, and I really don’t like Nick very much now. The bastard!’

  ‘Come back here,’ Leo says, patting the sofa. ‘Let’s not waste the last few minutes.’ I fall into his arms and we hold each other close until it’s time for him to leave.

  ‘I don’t want you to go,’ I say.

  ‘I know, but it’s all decided.’ Leo nuzzles my hair and kisses my ear. ‘I have my passport and my ticket. My friend’s expecting me.’

  ‘I’ll never forget you.’

  ‘I hope not. You’re going to promise me you’ll keep in touch. I want to know when the baby arrives that you’re both safe and well.’

  ‘Isn’t it better to make a complete break?’ I murmur, but I know as I say it that I can’t.

  ‘At least I know you’ll never be alone,’ Leo says. ‘You’ll find someone else.’

  ‘I don’t want someone else … I want you …’

  ‘You could always come with me,’ he says lightly.

  ‘Do you mean that?’ I stare at him, my heart beating a chaotic rhythm. ‘How?’

  ‘By the usual means – I’ve heard travelling by air is quicker than by sea, so I’d recommend a plane ticket.’

  ‘Oh, Leo.’ Even now, he can make me smile. ‘I can’t leave the farm.’

  ‘You see, I knew you’d say that.’ He grows serious again. ‘You know, it could run without you. You could install James as manager – he’s a very capable guy.’

  I think about it for a moment. I couldn’t possibly leave Nettlebed Farm right now when I’ve invested so much time and energy – not to mention money – in the new visitor attraction. I can’t leave it unfinished and nor can I go running across to the other side of the world after Leo for love, because love is so fragile, so tenuous, and who knows how Leo would react after the baby was born.

  Leo gives me one last kiss before he disentangles himself from my embrace. ‘I’ll be in touch. Goodbye, Stevie.’

  I watch him go, tears streaming down my face, my heart empty, and wonder if I’ll ever see him again.

  I stay in the mobile home for a while, gathering myself together before I phone Nick.

  ‘Stevie, I wasn’t expecting—’

  ‘This isn’t a social call. I wanted to ask you what right you think you have to interfere in my life, warning Leo off like that?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You know very well. You told Leo to back off. How dare you! Thanks to you, my chance of happiness has gone.’ I’m hot with rage.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Nick says. ‘Now please calm down – the baby … ’

  ‘What do you care?’ I snap. I’m being unreasonable, but I’ve had a terrible day so far.

  ‘Of course I care,’ Nick blunders on.

  I cut him off. I don’t want to listen to him any more, but two seconds later my mobile’s ringing again. He calls three times before I answer it.

  ‘I didn’t realise Leo meant that much to you, Stevie,’ Nick says quickly. ‘I thought I was doing the right thing. He was only a locum, after all.’

  ‘Only?’ I swear out loud. ‘I loved him, Nick, and now he’s gone.’

  ‘Sh, please don’t let yourself get wound up. What can I do to make it up to you?’ I blow my nose when he continues, ‘Let me be the best dad I can to our daughter. Please don’t shut me out as some kind of revenge. Promise me, Stevie.’ Nick sounds close to tears too and I soften slightly.

  ‘All right,’ I say, ‘but don’t you ever do anything like that to me ever again.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Nick hesitates. ‘Do I dare ask you how you are?’

  ‘I wouldn’t if I were you.’ I sniff into my tissue.

  ‘What can I say then? Have you been playing those tracks I suggested to the baby?’

  ‘That makes you sound rather controlling. She likes listening to the radio in the parlour.’

  ‘It’s better for babies in the womb to listen to classical music,’ Nick persists. ‘It’s more educational.’

  ‘There’ll be plenty of time for her to get an education.’ In spite of the situation, I can’t help smiling.

  ‘I don’t want her to have a Devon accent either.’

  ‘You’re doing it again,’ I exclaim.

  ‘You have booked those antenatal classes?’

  ‘I’ve been for all my check-ups and I’ve decided I’m having the baby at home.’

  ‘I don’t like that idea.’

  ‘I’ve talked it through with Kelly, the midwife at the surgery, and she sees no reason why not.’

  ‘I can think of plenty of reasons,’ he says gloomily.

  ‘Nick, you are not a midwife.’

  ‘Stevie, where are you?’ I hear the sound of James’s voice calling for me.

  ‘I’m in here,’ I call back. ‘I’ve got to go. We’ll talk again soon.’

  ‘What do you want, James?’ I ask as he puts his head around the door of the mobile home.

  ‘I wanted to check you were all right,’ he says.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, my tone curt.

  ‘It’s just that I saw Leo was gone – I thought you might be upset.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’ I notice how James’s expression changes, how the shy smile disappears to be replaced by a frown. ‘I’m sorry, this isn’t a good time,’ I tell him.

  ‘I’m a bit of a prat, aren’t I?’ he says.

  ‘Sometimes,’ I agree. ‘Like giving Adam that beer after the carnival.’

  ‘He had a bit of a skinful. I thought he’d be fine.’

  ‘He’s having to work for Guy to pay him back for the damage to the tractor and Jennie’s car.’

  ‘Stevie, can I just say I’m here for you if you need me?’ James says.

  ‘Thank you, James,’ I say, touched at his concern.

  ‘I’ll see you later.’

  I watch James head back across the yard where he�
�s assembling the fixings for a new gate for the farm entrance, wondering when Leo will contact me. I don’t have to wait for long because he texts me from the airport, saying he’ll Skype me as soon as he can. Two nights later, he gets in touch.

  ‘What’s it like out there?’ I ask him.

  ‘It’s brilliant. The practice and the scenery are perfect and I’m renting a proper house with furniture. There is one thing missing, though, and that’s you, Stevie.’

  ‘Oh, Leo, don’t make me start.’ I cover my mouth to stifle a sob.

  ‘I’ll keep in touch, I promise. You can come out for a holiday.’

  ‘That won’t be for a while,’ I say, imagining travelling by plane with a small baby.

  ‘In that case, I’ll have to come over to you for a break.’

  Do I believe him? I do, but it won’t be for a long time and it doesn’t alter the fact that even for the world’s greatest optimist, maintaining a successful long-distance relationship when you’re half a world away seems impossible.

  The first frost comes a few mornings after Leo has left. Having done the milking and picked a tub of sloes from the hedges, I return to find my father searching for something in the lean-to.

  ‘Stevie, have you seen my winter sweater?’ he asks.

  ‘No … ? Which one?’

  ‘My special one, the one I’ve had for years.’

  Oh dear, I think. What was Cecil’s expression? That he would have my guts for garters. I decide a little economy with the truth is a good tactic, although it hasn’t done me much good in the past. ‘I thought I saw it one of the drawers.’ I pretend to search through the cupboards, pulling it out. ‘Is this it?’

  ‘Ah yes, that’s it.’

  I hand it over and he opens it up. ‘It’s full of holes …’

  ‘I expect we have moths out here. It’s made of wool, isn’t it, and moths like wool.’

  ‘They must be ruddy great moths.’ My father struggles to put it on. I give him a hand to pull it over his head. ‘I’ll have to use it as a waistcoat,’ he grumbles. I’m worried he’s going to complain about the smell of cows, but he doesn’t. I help him put a coat over the top so he can wander out into the yard to see the calves.

  ‘Leo went off just like that, without a word?’ my father says, frowning. ‘He didn’t say anything?’

  ‘Dad, he did. He said goodbye to me.’

  ‘I thought with you being so fond of him and him of you … I thought he might stay and make an honest woman of you.’

  ‘That’s really old-fashioned. Why should he? This isn’t his baby.’

  ‘I am of a different generation, but these things happened. Men married women who were carrying other men’s children. It just wasn’t talked about like it is today. People didn’t expose their private lives willingly like they do today on those dreadful television shows.’

  ‘The ones you like to watch,’ I say lightly.

  ‘It’s quite interesting what kinds of scrapes people get themselves into. It’s opened my eyes.’

  ‘Well, if you’re referring to me, I’m not going on telly to talk about it.’

  ‘I wasn’t suggesting you did,’ he says. ‘You can talk to me,’ he goes on. ‘I admit I haven’t always been an easy person to confide in, but now, well, it’s just us two and the baby, isn’t it? We have to stick together now.’

  I walk away, tears pricking my eyes at his sensitivity, heading upstairs where I lie on the bed for a while feeling sorry for myself. The baby kicks, reminding me I have other priorities now, and that it’s going to be an independent human being with its own routine, desires and dislikes.

  ‘I hope we aren’t going to clash, Baby,’ I tell her as I wonder what life will be like. Jennie says you can’t imagine it until it happens.

  Later, I go to babysit Reuben for a couple of hours, so Jennie can go out with Guy. I’m doing this for Jennie, though, not her husband – although Guy seems more mellow since the baby was born. I arrive at Jennie’s Folly at six with my tub of sloes.

  ‘Come in,’ Jennie says, dressed in maternity leggings and a casual jacket. ‘I know Reuben’s only two weeks old, but I’m determined to start as I mean to go on this time, so he’s used to being left with a trusted friend. I didn’t leave Adam and he became really clingy, so when I did go out, I would sit there waiting for the babysitter to call and tell me to come home, which they invariably did because Adam did nothing but scream. I’m so excited to be going out on a date – it’s ages since Guy and I have had time to ourselves.’ She takes me through to the living room where the fire is burning in the grate behind a huge fireguard. Reuben is in a Moses basket, awake but quiet, watching the shadows of the flames flickering on the wall.

  ‘How am I going to cope?’ I say. ‘What do I do with him? He seems so little.’

  Jennie is laughing so hard she can hardly speak. In fact I think she’s been on the wine already. ‘You can handle a herd of ninety cattle yet you’re worried about looking after a single tiny baby!’ She glances down to my hands. ‘What have you got there?’

  ‘Sloes. I’m going to sit and prick them for the sloe gin.’

  ‘It always seems a shame to adulterate good gin with sloes.’

  ‘It makes it palatable,’ I say.

  ‘Well, good luck,’ Jennie says. ‘And thank you, Stevie. Adam is out with his girlfriend and the girls are in the kitchen doing their homework. I felt they were too young to look after Reuben yet. Don’t look so worried. It’ll be good practice for when you have your baby, and a distraction, I hope.’

  Guy puts his head around the door.

  ‘Have you two stopped twittering yet?’ he asks. He’s dressed in a shirt and tie.

  ‘I’ve just got to fetch my shoes,’ Jennie says.

  ‘Fetch or choose?’ Guy says with mock weariness. ‘Why does it take you so long to get ready to go out?’

  ‘Where are you going?’ I ask, a little stiffly, when Jennie has disappeared off upstairs.

  ‘The Barnscote.’ Guy lowers his voice. ‘Don’t say anything – I’ve told her we’re going to Mr Rock’s to eat in.’

  ‘Well, I hope the traffic’s all right,’ I say, having a dig at him.

  ‘Oh that,’ he says, rubbing his chin. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been a bit of an idiot.’

  ‘Are you growing soft in your old age?’

  ‘It’s Reuben,’ he says. ‘Since he’s been here, I’ve realised there’s more to life than farming and neighbourly spats.’

  ‘It was a bit more than a spat,’ I say. ‘You’ve been trying to prevent what is a perfectly legitimate business.’

  ‘I know. I have withdrawn my objections to your plans – I saw the new application, the most recent one with the new building with the larger footprint and lower roof, and I think I can live with that.’

  I’m gobsmacked. I don’t know what to say.

  ‘I can’t say that it will make any difference to the outcome of the decision – you’ll have to wait and see.’ Guy pauses. ‘I really appreciate your kindness to Jennie and the children—’

  ‘Even if I didn’t do a terribly good job of keeping an eye on Adam,’ I cut in.

  ‘It was only the car that was a write-off. At least the tractor was all right.’ He smiles before calling for Jennie. When she returns downstairs, he kisses her on the lips and says gruffly, ‘Come on, love. Let’s go.’

  As soon as they leave, Reuben starts to snuffle and cry; needless to say, I don’t get to prick the sloes.

  I do get around to making sloe gin for Christmas eventually. Dad agrees to scrap the mobile home to make the farmyard look more appealing. He also talks of my mother and how I’ll be a good mum like her, and suggests we decorate my brother’s old room as a nursery, sending Cecil up into the loft to find the old cot used for my brother and me, which he and Mum had kept.

  I throw myself into life on the farm while we continue to wait for planning permission, having tweaked and resubmitted the application. Domino remains barren so I reti
re her, turning her out over the winter with the heifers to enjoy the remaining years of her life. Leo and I talk on Skype every other day, and the bump grows steadily larger until I think it can’t possibly grow any more. I could do with a set of maternity overalls, but Tony at Overdown Farmers doesn’t see a market for them.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Welcome to the World!

  My father and I are invited to attend the Fox-Giffords’ party up at Talyton Manor on New Year’s Eve. I used to go with my parents and brother every year, and it was pretty deadly for a teenager partying with the hunting, shooting and fishing set. They are here tonight, along with the local farmers and tradespeople, including Jennie and Guy and their family, Mr Lacey from Lacey’s Fine Wines, the Dyers from the butcher’s shop, the Pitts of Barton Farm and Tony from Overdown Farmers.

  I’ve been hoping the baby might arrive beforehand so I would have a really good excuse not to go, but it isn’t to be. The baby doesn’t oblige and I feel I have to accompany my father who is determined to be there.

  This year, Alex Fox-Gifford and Sophia, his mother, host the party. Alex is in his forties and pretty fit for his age, while his mother is slender and wiry, her grey hair stiff with hairspray or setting lotion, and I’m pretty certain she’s wearing the same outfit she wore to the last party I came to when I was eighteen years old. It’s definitely the same moth-eaten fox fur with glassy eyes wrapped around her neck.

  Talyton Manor hasn’t changed much either. It sounds incredibly grand, but it’s falling down; the Axminster in the drawing room is threadbare and the sofas shabby. The paintings of the Fox-Gifford family through the ages, attired in pink hunting coats and breeches, are dark with dirt, and the electric chandelier is dusty and missing a few bulbs. There’s a pack of labradors and spaniels scrapping for a place in front of the fire, which burns in a marble fireplace adorned with holly and ivy and priceless antiques.