Sunrise at Strawberry Farm: As delightfully delicious as strawberries and cream, this is the perfect summer romance to read in 2020.

by Kellie Hailes

  She released Hannah’s hand and let Hannah get back to work.

  ‘You haven’t told Ams about you and Grey?’

  Hannah loved how quickly her mother had fallen into step with calling Amethyst ‘Ams’. It was a name reserved for her nearest and dearest, but also the one they used when she was in disguise and didn’t want her somewhat distinctive name used in case it wrecked her cover.

  In her mother’s case, she fell into Amethyst’s ‘nearest and dearest’ category. The two had meshed instantly. Like long-lost friends. Or even a sister-type relationship, despite the fourteen years between them. Unsurprising really, given her mother’s easy manner, her wicked sense of humour, and the way you knew you could trust her the moment you set eyes on her. Full of fun, full of heart – that was her mother, through and through. Hannah would miss her when she left. Perhaps more than ever, having now seen her at her weakest. It was like the link between them had become so much more fragile, so easily breakable, making their relationship so much more important.

  ‘Not. A. Word.’ Amethyst got the words out, then mimed zipping her mouth shut so Hannah could do her job.

  ‘It’s no big deal.’ Hannah stepped back and took a look at the job so far. Satisfied the foundation was even she picked up her cream bronzer and got to work warming up Amethyst’s face. ‘We went out when we were teenagers.’

  ‘Went out? More like were joined at the hip. People would call Grey my son-in-law. I told them doing so would jinx things, and I wasn’t wrong.’

  The hair on the back of Hannah’s neck stood to attention, as it always did when she was waiting to hear a hint of rebuke. Or a whole lot of it.

  ‘Han here needed to find herself first. I could see that a mile away.’

  ‘And has she?’ Amethyst studiously avoided Hannah’s frown, but that didn’t stop her lips quirking mischievously.

  ‘Time will tell.’ The solemn words were followed by a long yawn. ‘Honestly, one trip down to the kitchen to make tea, followed by ten minutes of conversation and I’m tired. Th[HN39]is illness is the pits. I miss being out in the fresh air, sinking my teeth into a sun-warmed strawberry. Hell, I even miss the stiff knees after a long morning of picking.’

  Hannah picked out a soft peach blush. ‘I don’t know why Dad hasn’t considered trying out raised troughs. It’d be kinder on the knees, and if he grew them in a polytunnel he could get a longer growing season. Wouldn’t be so dependent on the weather, either.’

  ‘He’s a man of his ways, Han. You know that. If it ain’t broke why fix it, and all of that. You, however, could have changed things up if that had been your path. You always were full of good ideas for the farm.’

  Hannah’s fingers instinctively gripped the brush she was using to apply blush tighter, causing it to tremble in her hands.

  Amethyst caught the action and her brows rose in silent question.

  ‘I’m fine,’ mouthed Hannah. Not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth, either. ‘Well, ideas are just that. Ideas. They’re no good if people don’t want to implement them, let alone consider them. Besides, what do my ideas matter? I’m leaving soon.’

  ‘Your dad had ideas for the farm, too, before he took over. His father wouldn’t hear about them, either. Those Beety men are set in their ways. Once they decide something they don’t easily move.’

  Hannah kept her face a mask, refused to show the growing agitation. ‘You mean like deciding their daughter wouldn’t possibly be able to run a strawberry farm, and making sure she knew that by heading off any suggestions she came up with to improve things? Leaving her no choice but to leave and find a path where people saw her potential and appreciated it?’

  So much for not showing her agitation. Hannah squeezed her eyes shut, wrinkled her nose, pressed her lips together and wished with everything she had that she could take the last two sentences back. The atmosphere in the room, already ponderous, had turned downright bitter. And that bitterness was coming from one direction. Her.

  She’d spent her life pretending she didn’t care about her father’s brush-offs. That the farm meant nothing to her. That the life she’d chosen was the life she’d always wanted to live.

  A life she’d been happy living, so long as she didn’t think too hard about the past.

  One sentence had unravelled all her smoke and mirrors. Revealed the truth. Shown her mother and Amethyst how she truly felt. What she truly wanted.

  ‘Er, hello?’ An awkward cough followed.

  Make that her mother, and Amethyst. And Grey.

  Hannah rubbed her forehead and made a second wish: to wake up and find this whole conversation had been a bad dream.

  She opened her eyes to see Amethyst staring at her, a melancholic expression on her face. A reflection of how Hannah herself had felt for so many years until she’d taken that sadness, boxed it up and locked it away in the loft in her mind.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt… There’s some people for Amethyst downstairs. A photographer and his assistant. They were wondering where to set up?’

  Grey’s tone was neutral, but there was a stiltedness about his words. One that suggested he’d heard what Hannah had said.

  Hannah turned to face Grey. Part of her curious to see his reaction to her honesty. To see if he’d finally not only heard the words she had to say but believed them as well. Understood her.

  Hannah searched his face for signs of emotion. To see if her words had dismantled the boundary he’d erected between them.

  In typical Grey fashion, he gave nothing away.

  Business as usual then.

  ‘You know where Dad keeps all that old farm machinery? Down the back? The tractor and the like? We’re shooting there. Would you mind taking them down so they can set up?’ Hannah tapped her mobile to check the time. ‘We’ll have to get a move on; the magic hour is nearly upon us.’

  ‘Sure thing.’ Grey looked over Hannah’s shoulder to where Amethyst was sitting. ‘That’s a lot of makeup you’re having to put on.’

  ‘I have to, or it won’t show up in the photos and Amethyst will look washed out,’ Hannah shot back, unexpectedly hurt at the critique of her work.

  ‘I didn’t say it was bad.’ Grey raised his brows, then turned and left.

  Hannah let out a shuddering breath, irritated with herself for constantly being on the defensive. This was her home; she should be relaxed here. Instead she spent each minute waiting for someone to tell her she was doing something wrong, that she was behaving wrong, that she was never going to be right.

  She was ridiculous for caring as much as she did. For wanting their approval. Her mother was on the mend. Soon she wouldn’t be needed and would be sent on her merry way. So why did she still care so much?

  ‘Han? You okay?’ Amethyst reached out and took Hannah’s hand. ‘You seem tenser than usual.’

  ‘Does that mean I’m usually tense?’ Hannah went back to work on Amethyst’s face, lining her lips and applying lipstick and a touch of gloss in the centre to give a plumped effect.

  Amethyst waited for her to finish before she cracked a grin. ‘You kind of are. Has she always been this way?’ She leaned over so she was facing Jill. ‘Like she’s walking a tightrope, afraid she’ll fall? Even if the tightrope is a metre wide and there’s no chance of putting a foot wrong?’

  ‘Not always,’ replied Jill, her voice warm with fondness. ‘When she was very little she threw herself into everything and anything. Wanted to do it all by herself. Hated having anything explained. Stubborn like her father. And, dare I say it, flighty like her mother when things didn’t go her way. Quick to tromp across the fields in a huff. Her little legs working like pistons. Her fists pumping.’

  Hannah turned to look at her mother. ‘Flighty? Mum, you’ve never taken flight in your life.’

  Quick footsteps approached the room. Not Grey again, Hannah prayed. Or her father. The last thing she needed was for him to tell her she was applying makeup wrong, or to tell her it didn’t look right.

 
; ‘Story time, is it?’ Her gran’s voice was amused. ‘Is this the story of Jill Visits the World?’

  ‘Indeed, it is. Hannah here seems to think I’ve never gone anywhere, or done anything, and I’ve decided it’s time to lift the veil of “happily ever after” we parental types like to shroud our babies in, and set her straight.’

  Three quick footsteps followed by the squeak of old bed springs and a quiet ‘ooph’ told Hannah her gran had decided to settle in for the tale.

  ‘When I met your father it was… not quite instant love. I liked him. He was kind. He treated me well. Very courteously. Unlike other boys I’d dated, he didn’t demand anything, and I liked that. Especially coming from the family I did, it was nice to experience a quieter pace of life.’

  Hannah’s heart went out to her mother. She’d never gone into details, her favourite phrase being ‘the past is past’ whenever she’d asked questions about her childhood, but Hannah had gathered her upbringing hadn’t been ideal. She hadn’t cried when her father had passed away, hadn’t even gone to the funeral, and she never, ever spoke about her mother.

  From what she’d managed to piece together from her mother’s abhorrence of drunken violence, and her many donations to charities that took care of underprivileged children, was that her mother’s father had been a violent drunk, and Hannah suspected that anger had been directed, at times, towards her mother. And, she further suspected, her mother blamed her own mother for not leaving, for not protecting her only daughter from said violence, which is what caused the distance. And also caused Jill to be a very hands-on mother, deeply protective of Hannah, but also very understanding of Hannah’s up and leaving, because she’d once done the same herself.

  ‘Duncan was smitten with you the moment you set foot on the farm.’

  ‘You’re not from here?’ Amethyst checked her finished face in the mirror Hannah held up for her. ‘Perfect, as always.’ She stood and made her way to the screen they’d set up so she could change into the first outfit.

  Hannah went to the bed and indicated for her gran to shimmy over so she could join them.

  ‘No, I was born in Saltash. Brought up there. Or dragged up, depending on who you ask.’ Jill attempted a laugh that quickly became a barking cough.

  Sylvia circled her back with the palm of her hand until it passed.

  ‘It wasn’t the ideal childhood.’

  ‘That’s putting it mildly.’ Sylvia shook her head and patted Jill’s back.

  ‘Past is past.’ Jill threaded her arm through Sylvia’s. ‘One night I decided I’d had enough of living there. Living my life there. So I packed a bag and decided to go on an adventure. First stop? Here.’

  ‘Quite the adventure.’ Amethyst stepped out from behind the screen to a chorus of oohs and aahs. She spun around, sending the skirt of the dress flying. When she came to a stop she slipped her hands into hidden pockets and let out a happy sigh. ‘I love a dress with pockets.’

  ‘Dress? You call that a dress. It’s not even an evening gown, it’s more a work of art.’ Jill shook her head in disbelief. ‘How many hours did it take to fix all those crystals onto the bodice, do you think?’

  ‘Bugger how many hours it took. What I want to know is how are you going to climb onto the tractor wearing it? That train has got to be two metres long.’ Sylvia bum-shuffled off the bed and semi-circled Amethyst to get a better look at the champagne-coloured gown, which could have made her look like wallpaper, but somehow emphasised the depth of her tan and the honey streaks of her blonde hair. ‘If I touch it will I break it? Will I leave a mark? Because I really want to touch it.’

  Amethyst laughed. ‘Go ahead. If you break it I’ll buy it.’

  ‘How much is it worth?’

  Amethyst leaned over and whispered into Sylvia’s ear.

  Sylvia’s jaw dropped. ‘I’m not touching it. You could feed this household for a year, maybe two, with that much money.’

  Before Sylvia could step away, Amethyst grabbed her wrist and placed her hand on the silky fabric. ‘There. You’ve touched it. Doesn’t it feel divine? Now enough of the dress, I want to hear about Jill’s great adventure to a strawberry farm.’ She settled on the edge of the bed and spread the dress out to avoid it creasing. ‘Now, spill.’

  ‘Is she always so demanding?’ Jill turned to Hannah and winked. ‘Is this how she gets you to stick around? Forces you? Give you no choice but to do what she wants?’

  ‘Yes.’ Hannah nodded, keeping her face straight. ‘She’s a terror. I have a diary in which I write our every encounter. One day I shall shop it around to publishers, make my fortune and go into hiding so she can’t find me and demand I do her makeup some more.’

  ‘Pfft.’ Amethyst reached over, grabbed Hannah’s bare foot and waggled it back and forth. ‘You wish. You’d miss me. Besides, there wouldn’t be enough to fill a chapter, let alone a book.’

  Hannah let out a dramatic sigh. ‘This is true. I’m stuck being a very well paid makeup artist, so I can’t really complain. And, you’re right, I wouldn’t want to go into hiding from you because I would miss you too much.’ She blew a kiss to Amethyst, who caught it, held it to her heart, then zeroed her attention back in on Jill. ‘I’m waiting…’ she urged with a nod of her head.

  ‘Right.’ Jill tapped her chin. ‘Where was I?’ She placed her hands back on her lap and settled back into her pillows. ‘I saw a notice in the café two villages over wanting help here on the farm. Board was offered as part-payment for the right candidate.’

  ‘That was when the shop was a cottage. Peter thought it a good way to attract workers – he wasn’t wrong. We got the best one ever from that brainwave of his.’ She laid her hand upon Jill’s and patted it affectionately.

  ‘Despite my lack of experience in doing anything, Peter and Sylvia took me on, and had Duncan train me up. Over the summer season we grew close. Then closer. Then that’s all I’m going to say because I don’t want to make my daughter vomit, and there are some things Sylvia doesn’t need to hear about her son.’

  Hannah stuck her tongue out and gagged. ‘Too late. You’ve said enough.’

  Sylvia echoed Hannah’s disgust with a head and shoulder shudder. ‘Move it along please, dear.’

  ‘At the end of the summer your dad got down on one knee and asked me to be his. So, naturally, I said no.’

  ‘You didn’t!’ Amethyst’s hand went to her chest. ‘You must’ve broken his heart?’

  Jill shrugged unrepentantly. ‘I’d promised myself I’d travel, and I had the money from working all summer to do so. So I did. And it was the most miserable experience ever. I missed the farm. I missed the people I’d come to know, and love. Most of all I missed your dad.’

  ‘Did he chase you down? Find you? Beg you to return?’ Amethyst’s hands interlocked in hope. A silent plea for a grand romantic gesture.

  Jill snorted. ‘Of course not. Duncan’s not a man for grand gestures.’

  ‘Apart from drunken sonnet reciting,’ Hannah reminded her.

  ‘Not that I was aware of that incident at the time, and I think its failure put him off further grand gestures for life. He’s more the kind of man who shows you how he feels through his actions, like setting up a mug with a teabag and spoonful of sugar for me before he heads out into the fields or picking my slippers up off the bathroom floor and setting them, some would say pointedly, by the bed every night.’ Jill shook her head, amusement twitching at her lips. ‘Safe to say, your father was hurt, as he had every right to be. Also, remember what I said about stubbornness running in the family?’ Jill stared at Hannah pointedly. ‘It was I who had to return, proverbial hat in hand and tail between my legs. I told him I’d made a huge mistake, that I’d run away looking for my place in the world, when I’d already found my place, right here, with him. Then I got down on one knee and presented him with a gold signet ring, complete with huge topaz that I’d bought in America and spent the last of my travel money on.’

  ‘And he said yes?’
Amethyst closed her eyes and went into a mock-swoon.

  ‘He said “not if I have to wear that”.’

  Hannah snorted. ‘Sounds about right.’

  ‘So, I promised he could choose the ring, and then he said yes. And from there, as they say, it was a case of happily ever after. A fairy tale with a few bumps along the way, like all good fairy tales should have.’ Jill’s lids grew heavy, her eyes closing longer and longer in between blinks. ‘And I do believe it’s time for my nap. Sorry I can’t come watch, Amethyst dear. Maybe next time?’

  Hannah went to tell her mother that there wouldn’t be another time. That Amethyst would have no reason to come back to the farm for a photoshoot once Hannah had returned to London and settled back into her normal life.

  She stopped herself. There was no point in upsetting her mum before she fell asleep. That, and a tiny part of her couldn’t guarantee that her mother’s dream of seeing Amethyst work her best angles on the farm’s tractor wouldn’t happen again one day.

  Not when she’d just discovered that leaving the farm didn’t mean you couldn’t one day return.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Grey doodled stick figures in his notebook as he waited for Hannah to finish serving another customer. He tried to keep his gaze on the page, but it kept flicking up to see what Hannah was up to. Ringing up a purchase on the till. Rearranging baked goods so they looked more appealing. Currently she was placing a warmed scone on a plate along with a ramekin of fresh whipped cream and homemade strawberry jam.

  ‘Best cream tea in Cornwall. Enjoy!’

  She nodded her thanks at the customer and smiled warmly at the next in line.

  Grey couldn’t help but appreciate how good she was working the counter. She finished off the sale every single time with a winning smile and a strength of conviction that had customers believing they were in for a treat even before the cream and jam-loaded scones hit their mouths. He also couldn’t help but appreciate how good – how right, how at home – she seemed in the shop, on the farm, in the farmhouse.