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

by Kellie Hailes

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It had been a fine festival. More than fine – the best ever. The farm’s guests had been in high spirits. The local band had only had to start over a song twice. A record for them. The owners of the food trucks Hannah had organised to come along were happy with their takings and keen to come back next year. And the fields he and Hannah had saved the night before had been well picked over, with people happy to go into the other fields to pick through the storm-damaged fruit.

  Grey grinned to himself as he spotted a family of six paying for a small bucketful. By the looks of the red stains around the kids’ mouths they’d eaten three times more than they were taking away. Good. Satisfaction warmed his heart. That was what this event was about. As much as it was good to open the fields after the peak season had passed so that people could get their fill for jams and desserts, it was a thank you to the community for their continued support. For visiting the small farm shop, for bringing their own visitors from out of town there, for buying their strawberries over competitors’, for sending another generation of teens to help with picking and packing.

  It may be a family-owned farm, but keeping it ticking over was a community effort, one the Beetys never took for granted.

  Speaking of Beetys? Grey searched the crowd for the youngest member of the family. Concern knotted in his stomach when he couldn’t spot her. She’d been so out of sorts earlier. All that talk of being useless, of her family not wanting to bother her. It was like she thought there was some sort of conspiracy under way to push her away. To send her packing.

  He closed his eyes to the buoyant crowd and gritted his teeth. Idiot. That was exactly what she’d been thinking. What she’d thought her father had been doing for a lifetime. And one kind moment, one honest conversation with him, wasn’t going to change her belief of a lifetime. And if the rest of the family had moved her along when she’d offered to help?

  Disaster.

  He gritted his teeth hard enough to make them squeak. Double idiot. He’d brushed off her concerns like they were nothing, same way he always had.

  And now she was nowhere to be seen.

  He opened his eyes and scanned the crowds once more. Not in the fields. Not by the paying station. He’d have seen her if she’d walked past him to go to the farm shop. Wouldn’t he?

  Doubt niggled at his mind. He’d been busy chatting to locals. Helping some of the area’s older folk by taking their loads of strawberries and walking them out to their cars. She could’ve gone and he’d not have noticed a thing.

  ‘Grey? You okay? Your shoulders are so tight they’re almost touching your ears.’

  Grey spun round to see Jill standing behind him, an easy smile on her face deepening the fine lines that bracketed her mouth.

  The accelerator eased off his pounding heart. Surely if Hannah had gone she’d have told her mother, and Jill seemed happy, at ease. Not like a woman whose only child had taken off again unexpectedly.

  ‘I’m fine thanks, Jill.’ Grey pulled his shoulders down. ‘Just looking for Hannah. Have you seen her?’

  Jill angled her head to the side. Her easy smile taking on a sad quality. ‘You were worried she’d left without saying goodbye?’

  Grey shrugged. There was no point lying. Jill had known him long enough to know he wasn’t a good liar. So much so he never bothered trying. ‘She seemed a little off before. At a loose end. And not happy about it, either.’

  ‘Our girl likes to feel wanted.’ Jill shook her head. ‘Even as a little dot she’d be tugging at my hand every five seconds asking to help pull down the washing or put away the dishes. Not good at sitting still.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of.’ Grey thrust his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his feet, heel to ball and back again. The action doing nothing to soothe the nerves that jangled his body. ‘What if she can’t sit still? What if she leaves without a word, again? What if she doesn’t feel wanted?’

  Jill reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to still. ‘And what reason have you given her to feel unwanted?’ She shook her head. ‘You’re too hard on yourself, Grey. I know how much you care for Hannah, despite what she put you – all of us – through. I know you went out of your way to see Duncan and Hannah have that talk they ought to have had long ago. The only person who can make Hannah feel unwanted is Hannah herself. And if that’s how she feels, there’s nothing you or I or anyone can do about it.’

  Three thumps of a finger on microphone boomed through the air followed by a ‘testing, one two three’.

  Jill and Grey simultaneously followed the sound to the stage.

  ‘How many times do I have to tell Duncan that a quiet “ahem” will get people’s attention instead of the thump-and-testing routine? It’s like the moment he holds modern technology he’s sure it’s going to fail.’

  Affection peppered Jill’s chiding tone and Grey couldn’t help but match her smile. Duncan was the family’s confirmed Luddite. He refused to even lay a finger on a computer and used only the most basic of mobile phones. If he could, Grey suspected, Duncan would still be using pencil and paper to do the farm’s accounts. Or an abacus. It was lucky that the women of the family were more than fond of computers and all the convenience they brought with them, and were happy to do the accounts and deal with customers through email.

  ‘Can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Or an old strawberry farmer.’ Grey laughed at the way Duncan held the microphone by the very tips of his fingers as if he thought it would bite.

  ‘Indeed you can’t. Speaking of strawberry farmers…’

  Jill’s elbow nudged Grey’s side.

  ‘There’s the one you were looking for, just over there.’

  Grey followed Jill’s gaze to the edge of the crowd, where Hannah was standing all alone, her arms wrapped around herself in a cuddle, her eyes focused on the stage. Even from across the way he could see she was gnawing at her lower lip and all the colour had gone out of her face.

  ‘Does she look okay to you?’

  Jill’s eyes narrowed. ‘A bit pale. Probably tired. It’s been a big few weeks. I’m sure she’ll perk up once all this is done and dusted and she’s free to go home.’

  Grey wasn’t so sure that Hannah’s unwell demeanour had anything to do with lack of sleep or being too busy. He got the feeling she was used to both those things in her proper job, but before he could further voice his concerns Jill was off, threading her way past people to stand beside Duncan on the stage.

  He made to move as well, to be with Hannah, to offer her support should she need it, but Duncan’s welcome to the crowd stopped him in his tracks. He didn’t want to move about and distract anyone from Duncan’s speech. He’d get to Hannah soon as Duncan was done. He’d be there for her.

  Hannah tightened her grip on herself as her father’s greeting filled the air. His welcome sending cheekbones sky high and earning a scattering of applause from those gathered. How could her father be so warm, so effusive to others, and yet even after last night be so dismissive of her?

  ‘It’s so good to see you all here.’ Duncan smiled down at her mother as she joined him on the stage and wrapped her arm around his waist. ‘Now I’m a man of few words so I’ll keep this quick, for my own sake and for yours…’

  Polite laughter filled the air.

  ‘It’s been a productive summer on the farm. We’ve had an amazing team who’ve worked hard to ensure the best strawberries have reached mouths all over Cornwall and beyond. I couldn’t have done it without them, and without my right-hand man, Grey Walker. Grey? Where are you? Make yourself known.’

  Hannah scanned the crowd until she saw Grey’s arm up in the air. His cheeks had gone a violent shade of pink and he had the air of a man who wished the ground would open up, swallow him whole and preferably never spit him out again.

  ‘Grey has kept the troops on target, ensured the quality was consistent, done drop-offs whenever I haven’t been able to, and he’s helped put t
ogether this event. Grey, I don’t just owe you a beer, I owe you a pub.’

  Grey’s attention went to his feet as he shook his head, his hand waving her father away.

  It was all Hannah could do not to put her hands over her ears to drown out her father’s words. It wasn’t that he was wrong. Grey was an amazing assistant manager. He worked hard and it was easy to see why her father had so much time for him, why he valued him so much, but it was like her father had forgotten she’d been around to help.

  Had sitting in the truck helping with drop-offs the last couple of weeks been a delusion? Were her aching legs and back from hours picking all in her imagination? Was calling around food truck businesses, painting the banner and coming up with a solution to the surprise storm yesterday something she’d imagined doing? She bristled as the answers rebounded back instantly. No. She’d been here. Hands on. Ready and willing.

  ‘Of course,’ her father carried on, ‘we couldn’t have done another season without Duncan and Sylvia. Mum and Dad, you’re brilliant. I’d be lost without you. As would the farm.’

  Hannah didn’t have to force herself to clap along with the crowd. What her father said was true. Her grandfather and grandmother were the heart of the farm. Their love for the land, and their family, was imprinted on it. Reinforced by every interaction with those who visited. Warm smiles, strong handshakes, meaningful ‘see you agains’.

  ‘And where would I be without this woman next to me?’ Duncan squeezed Jill affectionately and dropped a quick kiss on the top of her head. ‘She gave me a fright this year by becoming incredibly ill. Jill, if I could’ve fought that infection with my own bare hands and gotten rid of it that way, I would’ve. I would’ve done anything to have you healthy. To have you by my side, like you are right now.’

  Her parents blurred before her as tears filled Hannah’s eyes. Her father’s love and adoration for her mother was everything she hoped to experience one day.

  ‘One day’ being not anytime soon. Not when she was so adrift from everything, and everyone. When Grey had proven once again that he couldn’t or wouldn’t listen to her when she needed his attention most. When it had become more obvious as the day went on that there was no place for her on Strawberry Farm.

  ‘You’re my rock, Jill, and I’d be lost without you.’

  Everyone cheered once more, and Hannah tried to join them. Did her best. Failed. She hoped those around her thought her tears were those of support, not heartache, but each accolade directed towards her family only served to reinforce the little voice inside that whispered that she’d never be good enough. She wasn’t then. She wasn’t now. And that just because she and her father had mended their differences, that didn’t mean he would ever entrust the farm to her. Or that he trusted her, full stop.

  And who could blame him? She’d run once; it was human nature for him to think she’d run again.

  So why not stay? Why not prove them wrong?

  Duncan cleared his throat. The booming sound echoed over the masses, silencing them.

  ‘Lastly, I have to thank my daughter, Hannah, for returning to help us out. It was much appreciated, and now she can return to her very successful job and continue to do us proud out in the big wide world. We can’t wait to see what you achieve next, Han.’

  Hannah could see her father was trying to catch her eye, but she couldn’t meet it. Wouldn’t. His words just now? They were why there was no point proving her father wrong. And not just her father, but her whole family. They were happy for her to go back to London. They didn’t want or need her to stay. They thought she was better off far away from them.

  Sure, she could stay and try to prove them wrong, but that would be a lesson in emotional self-flagellation. How many ways could she make herself feel unnecessary, unlistened to, unneeded, unwanted?

  ‘Well, thanks all. Pick away, eat away, and enjoy the rest of your day.’

  Applause and whoops and hollers of approval followed before the crowd began to disperse. The hustle and bustle of people traipsing off this way and that proved the perfect cover for Hannah to pull away, to escape.

  Not looking back, afraid of what she might see – or who – she hurried back to the house and grabbed her suitcase from the sitting room, thanking past-her for having the foresight to put it in easy reach.

  Like part of her knew this was coming. Knew she’d be pushed away. Rejected. Knew that she’d need to make a quick escape.

  She pressed her hand to her swirling stomach as she rolled her bag out the door and around to her rental car[HN50], and cursed herself for coming back. For doing this to herself. For hoping for a happily ever after.

  ‘Han?’

  Grey’s voice, taut with confusion, stopped Hannah in her tracks. Was she really going to do this again? Take off without a word? Grey might not see her usefulness either, but he’d forgiven her when he didn’t have to. Done his best to mend hearts, when he could’ve left them brittle, broken. He deserved better than to be left with no explanation. Again.

  She took a deep breath in, swallowed hard, promised herself to be brave, to be true, and turned to face him.

  ‘Grey.’

  What else could she say?

  ‘Thanks for making things easier between us. Have a good life.’

  ‘You’re one in a million. I hope some other girl gets to find out.’

  ‘I love you. You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.’

  Something deep in her chest twinged, panged – broke – at the last of her answers. The most truthful one. The one she knew to be true.

  She did love Grey. Had for this side of forever. And would for the next side of forever. But he was too good for her. He was solid, stable, and kind. Hated seeing the bad in people so much that he wouldn’t hear a bad word about another. She was flighty, full of fear, didn’t trust herself so couldn’t trust anyone around her. Not with her heart.

  ‘Are you doing what I think you’re doing?’ He took a cautious step towards her. Another. His hand reached for her.

  Hannah backed away, shaking her head. ‘I’m sorry, Grey. I have to. Mum’s fine. The festival’s all but finished. You can pack down without me. You can do everything without me.’ She bit her tongue as soon as the last line came out. Stopped herself from letting any more little truths slip out.

  ‘Just because a person can do something without the help of another person it doesn’t mean they don’t want the other person around. That they don’t need the other person. That they don’t want them.’

  Grey’s words were measured, but there was no missing the verbal tightrope he was walking. Like he was afraid one wrong word would tip things over the edge.

  Or send her scurrying away faster than she already was.

  Hannah wished she could close her ears to Grey’s words. That she could close her eyes and have him gone. Not just out of sight, but out of her life. Her leaving would be so much simpler if that would be the case.

  ‘Are you wishing me away right now, Han? Not going to happen. You’ve had your easy escape once. You don’t get to run away again without consequence.’

  Hannah gripped the handle of her suitcase and forced her eyes to open, to face Grey. ‘And what would the consequence be? Because from where I’m standing my leaving would just mean business as usual for the farm. My work here is done. I’m free to go, as Dad so easily pointed out back there. As everyone – yourself included – made clear throughout the day.’

  Grey’s hands fisted at his sides, then flexed. His chest and shoulders lifting then falling in a show of self-control.

  He was mad at her? Hannah couldn’t blame him. He must think she’d led him on. Made him believe there was a chance she’d stay, which there had been up until the last couple of hours when it became all too obvious that her teenage instincts had been right and Strawberry Farm wasn’t where she belonged.

  ‘And what will you be going back to?’ The corner of Grey’s mouth twitched like he was stopping himself from saying more.


  ‘My job. Where I’m needed.’ Hannah blindly felt around in her bag for the car’s keys[HN51].

  ‘That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.’ Grey took another step closer. ‘What I meant to say and should have said was, who are you going back to?’

  Bloody keys. Bloody big bags. Bloody men and their bloody questions that made her want to run and hide as soon as possible because she knew they had a point.

  Hannah’s hand grasped the jagged edges of her house key and she pulled the set out of her bag with a jangle that didn’t even begin to match the jangling of her nerves that had her in full fight-or-flight mode. In this case, fight and flight.

  ‘I’m going back to people who need me. Who want me around. People who won’t wave me away every time I ask to help out.’ Hannah sorted through her keys until she found the one for the car[HN52]. Her hand shook and she tightened her grip, hoping Grey didn’t notice. ‘You don’t need me here. None of you. You made that all too obvious today. Dad’s speech only confirmed it. I was good as a fill-in, a backup, but that’s all.’

  She pressed the door lock button. Relief flooded her adrenaline-charged system as she heard the reassuring click that told her she was minutes away from hitting the road.

  ‘Is that how you think we saw you?’

  In two speed-of-light strides Grey was standing in front of her. His soapy scent mixed with the tang of sweat invaded her senses. Surrounded her. Reminded her of how she loved to breathe him in, to feel him against her. How holding his hand was a pleasure, kissing him a drug.

  Loving him, dangerous. An impossible ask.

  She took a step back to try and put some space between them and hit the hot steel of the car[HN53].

  His arms reached out around her, the palms of his hands finding purchase on the car. She was trapped. Unable to move. Not even sure she wanted to.

  ‘Yes you helped us out of a jam, but you weren’t just some hired help, Han.’

  ‘I wasn’t hired. No money in my bank that I can see.’ Hannah attempted a light joke but it fell flat. Grey’s face remained earnest, passionate. Desperate for her to hear, to understand, to pay attention.