The Little Orchard on the Lane: An absolutely perfect and uplifting romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  The closer she got, the more stable the wood of the jetty looked and the more inviting the water looked too.

  She was perhaps feet from her objective when she noticed ripples forming on the surface of the pool, as if something was moving the water. A bird, perhaps, though she couldn’t see it. Perhaps there was something behind the tall reeds that obscured part of the pool. Maybe she ought to be certain of what it was before she got closer – not that she imagined for a minute it would be anything more dangerous than a mildly annoyed duck.

  Even as she thought this, something appeared from behind the vegetation. Posy stopped dead and dropped to the ground, heart beating madly. A man was swimming towards the jetty. It was then that she noticed the neatly folded towel on the bank. The man hadn’t seen her yet, but if she made a move to run for it he surely would. But if she stayed where she was, he’d probably see her then too.

  There was no time to do anything, however, because a second later he’d hauled himself out of the water and onto the jetty and unfurled to stand, dripping wet and completely naked.

  It took him about that long to realise that he wasn’t alone, but in that time Posy had been able to look for long enough to be absolutely mortified, and yet shamefully appreciative of the fact that if Greek gods really did exist, one of them might just be standing in front of her right now. His torso was impossibly sculpted, his arms firm and taut, his chin strong and square, and a head of black curls framed dark eyes. Then she let out a squeak of shock and averted her gaze, only for his own exclamation of shock to cause her to involuntarily look back for another eyeful.

  ‘What the hell!’ he yelled, grabbing for his towel and wrapping it hastily round his waist, his thick Scots accent the only clue that he wasn’t actually a Greek god at all, only a very angry mortal.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Posy said faintly, not knowing whether to laugh or cry as she scrambled to her feet, dimly aware of the fact that her face was burning like it had never burned before. She didn’t know whether that was embarrassment or the sun or a perfect combination of both.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

  ‘I was lost—’

  ‘No you weren’t!’

  ‘I was out walking… I can walk, can’t I? It’s a free country!’ Posy fired back, now taking offence at his tone. What if she had genuinely been lost? That was no way to talk to anyone. Yes, maybe the manner of this meeting was embarrassing for both of them, and maybe it was excruciatingly awkward now, but there was no need to be so rude.

  ‘You shouldn’t be here – this is private land.’

  ‘How do you know? There are no signs to say so!’

  ‘Because it’s my land!’ he roared, and for a sickening moment Posy wondered whether he was going to start chasing her off it.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, not knowing what else to say.

  He took a long breath and seemed to gather in his anger. ‘Kindly leave,’ he said now in a more even tone, though it was firm enough to leave no mistaking that he meant it, and that he meant for her to leave instantly.

  Posy hesitated nonetheless, torn between an impulse to go as he’d asked or to apologise again and try to explain herself – after all, it was what she’d been brought up to do in these situations and she did feel bad about it, even if he was rude. But he gave her no further time to think about it.

  ‘Now!’ he growled.

  Posy blinked, considered once more having some kind of last word, but then thought better of it. Instead, she turned and began to march back up the hill as fast as the grass and the oppressive heat would let her.

  Chapter Five

  ‘Darling!’

  Carmel smiled broadly as Posy found her and Karen sitting in the garden chatting over a pot of tea. It looked as if they were already forming a very good friendship, even after only a day. ‘Did you enjoy Astercombe?’

  ‘I didn’t get that far,’ Posy said, feeling sticky and flustered and wishing she had time to go back to their room for a cold shower. ‘I got a bit lost.’

  ‘Well, I’m glad you didn’t stay lost,’ Carmel said with a light laugh.

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Karen said. ‘Perhaps you can try again if I give you directions.’

  ‘We probably don’t have time now,’ Posy replied, glancing at Carmel, who shook her head.

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘Perhaps next time.’

  ‘Tea?’ Karen asked, holding up the pot.

  Posy took a seat at the table. She’d rather have an ice-cold gin and tonic, but Karen looked so comfortable sitting with her mum that she didn’t want to disturb her. ‘That would be lovely.’

  ‘So where did you get to?’ Karen asked as she poured some into a third cup that suggested they’d expected Posy to join them at some point.

  ‘I’m not sure. Some country lanes and some fields. Wherever it was, it was nice.’

  She smiled stiffly as she took the teacup from Karen. It had been nice, right up until the angry naked man had appeared.

  ‘How was your head massage?’ she asked Carmel, swiftly deciding it was safest to change the subject. For all she knew, the angry naked man was a good friend of Karen’s and she really didn’t want to get into that now.

  ‘Oh, it was wonderful!’ Carmel gushed. ‘It was like every bit of stress I’ve ever had in my life just got pulled up through Karen’s fingers and out into the air. I can’t believe I’ve never had one before! As soon as we get home I must find the number of someone who does it so I can have another.’

  ‘You do look relaxed,’ Posy agreed as she sipped her tea.

  ‘I could do one for you,’ Karen said, looking pleased with the praise. ‘It doesn’t have to take a long time.’

  There was no amount of massage, relaxation or meditation that was going to undo the knots of stress in Posy’s body right now, and she was so hot and bothered already that she really didn’t think she could stand any type of contact. All she wanted was time to cool down, and if she could stop thinking about the angry naked man long enough for her face to stop burning then that would be a welcome bonus.

  ‘That’s so kind of you,’ she said, ‘but I still have to put the last of my things in a bag and we need to get to Oleander House soon, don’t we, Mum?’

  ‘I suppose we do have to get going soon,’ Carmel admitted, looking faintly regretful at the idea of having to move at all.

  ‘Don’t forget to leave me your contact details before you go,’ Karen said to Carmel. ‘Next time I’m in London – if I ever get time, that is, which isn’t very often running this place – I’d love to take up your offer to see your studio.’

  ‘I’d love that too,’ Carmel said. ‘I’d be more than happy to give you a pottery lesson or two. And if you think about taking it up from here, I’d be more than happy to give you any advice you need.’

  Posy looked from her mum to Karen and then back again. It wasn’t often that Carmel extended an invitation to anyone to spend time in her studio. The house, that was fair game and open and welcome to anyone, but the studio where she worked was a far more private space. Most people they knew weren’t that interested in it either; even Posy’s dad didn’t venture in unless he really had to.

  ‘I’ll let you have my email address before we leave,’ Carmel added.

  Karen straightened up in her seat with a smile before downing the last of her tea. Looking about as reluctant to move as Carmel, she stood up. ‘Well, I’d better get on, and I’d better let you two get on if you’ve got to be at Oleander House. I’ll see you when you check out, I expect.’

  ‘You will,’ Carmel said warmly. ‘Thanks for the massage and the tea. I don’t think I’ve ever been so relaxed in my life!’

  ‘Glad to have helped,’ Karen replied. ‘If you need anything before you leave, come and find me – I don’t expect I’ll be far away.’

  Posy looked at her mum as Karen went inside. ‘I see you’ve made a new friend,’ she said.

  ‘She’s lovely, don’t you think? We’ve
got along so well this morning I feel as if I’ve known her for years. And she has such a lovely life here – she’s been telling me all about it.’

  ‘Is it making you think about moving to Somerset?’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Carmel laughed lightly. ‘Come on,’ she added, tipping back her cup to drink the last, as Karen had done moments before. ‘We’d better get the car loaded up if we’re going to be at Oleander House in time.’

  * * *

  An hour later, having bid goodbye to Karen with promises to visit again when they could, Posy and Carmel were sitting on the patio of Oleander House once again. Cold drinks and plates of finger food littered the table. This time it was already a far more relaxed affair than the day before, and conversation had turned to what Posy and Carmel had been doing with themselves during the previous twenty-four hours. They’d told them how much they’d enjoyed staying at Sunnyfields and how much they liked Karen. Sandra had said she liked Karen too, but Ray was so reclusive and antisocial that she felt she barely knew him at all, despite the years they’d been practically neighbours. Then Carmel happened to mention her head massage and how amazing it had been, and then Posy had been forced to tell them that she hadn’t had one because she’d been exploring.

  ‘Oh,’ Asa said with mild interest, taking so much care to pour a glass of home-made lemonade from a pitcher that Posy half expected him to produce a ruler and measure the exact distance between the contents and the lip of the glass. ‘Where did you go?’

  Posy was beginning to wish people would stop asking her that.

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ she said. ‘Just some fields.’

  ‘I’ll bet you found that thrilling,’ he replied, putting the pitcher down.

  ‘They were lovely,’ Posy replied.

  ‘I’m sure they’re not very exciting by London standards, though,’ Giles put in. ‘We’re used to living in a sleepy place like this, but we must seem very backward to you.’

  ‘Not at all!’ Posy said with feeling. ‘I think it must be lovely living here! I don’t think I’d miss London at all if I moved here!’

  ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that,’ Asa said dryly. He settled back in his chair and took a sip of his drink.

  ‘It’s alright here if you’re over forty,’ Giles agreed. ‘We love it but a lot of the youngsters tend to move away and head for where the action is.’

  ‘I’m hardly a youngster,’ Posy said. ‘I’m twenty-seven.’

  ‘That’s a toddler in my eyes,’ Sandra said. Giles nodded.

  ‘Mine too. Asa’s a bit closer to your age but even he’s got ten years’ head start on you.’

  ‘Hey – I’m thirty!’ Asa said indignantly and Sandra burst out laughing.

  ‘You keep telling everyone that,’ Giles said, ‘but we all know your birth certificate says thirty-eight on it.’

  ‘Judas,’ Asa said, wearing the most comically offended expression.

  Even though she’d only just met these people and didn’t really have the hang of their tone yet, Posy did want to laugh.

  ‘Honestly, give my secret away to any Tom, Dick or Harry, would you?’

  ‘Except Posy and Carmel aren’t any Tom, Dick or Harry now,’ Sandra said as she flashed them both a warm smile.

  ‘Well, no…’ Asa agreed. ‘I know you love to burst my bubble at every opportunity, but at least let me keep my mystique just a little bit longer. It’s bad enough being this close to forty, but you could at least let me carry on pretending.’

  ‘There’s no bubble and no mystique,’ Giles said, laughing. ‘You work on an orchard and live in a shack in the back garden of the house.’

  ‘Insults again!’ Asa cried with a look of deepest indignation that only made his brother laugh harder.

  ‘Somebody has to keep your feet on the ground,’ Sandra said with the sort of fond look a mother would give a favourite but rather wayward child.

  Before Asa could form a reply, Giles turned to Posy and Carmel. ‘So you didn’t make it into Astercombe this morning after all?’

  ‘No,’ Posy said.

  ‘That seems a pity. I could run you in this afternoon if you’d like to spend some time there… It’s understandable you’d want to take a look around.’

  Posy glanced at her mum but then gave her head a slight shake. ‘That would have been nice but I think we’ll probably head off in the next hour or so. We don’t want to get back too late.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Sandra said. ‘Perhaps next time?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Carmel replied.

  ‘If not a run into the village then is there anything else you’d like to see?’ Giles asked.

  ‘I’m not really sure,’ Posy said doubtfully. ‘Do you know… my mum… is she buried nearby?’

  Giles seemed to pale slightly. ‘I’m afraid not. She was buried in Argentina where she died – we didn’t get to hear about her death for a month or so after it had happened, so the people she’d been staying with had already organised it. They don’t leave it long there, you know.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Sandra said. ‘I suppose you were hoping to visit the grave?’

  ‘I don’t know…’ Posy said. ‘I suppose so, yes. How long ago was this?’

  ‘Around eight years now.’

  Posy nodded slowly. Her mother must have been forty when she’d died, and it seemed so cruel to go so young. She felt as if she ought to somehow mourn her, but when she asked herself how she felt about it, she had to admit that she felt very little. Angelica was a woman she’d never known and it was hard to feel anything but the sort of pity she’d feel had she seen her death reported on the news – she could acknowledge it was sad but not really experience that sadness in any meaningful way.

  ‘What about John Palmer?’ she asked.

  ‘We don’t know where he was living before he died,’ Giles said. ‘We could try to find out if it helps?’

  Posy shook her head. She didn’t even know for sure the man she was asking about was her father – though he seemed the best candidate. Was it worth asking them to do that? What would it achieve for her to visit the grave of a man who might or might not be something to her? Most of all, was she ready? Perhaps she’d try to find him, but it might be best to give it some time first.

  ‘I suppose it would be nice to see your orchards,’ she said in a bid to put Giles, Asa and Sandra at ease again. She didn’t want to think of them tense and stressed around her, worried about what new and difficult questions she was going to ask every time she was with them. She’d ask, of course, and eventually they’d feel comfortable giving her what information they knew, but for now she decided all that could wait.

  Sandra looked at Giles with a relieved smile. ‘Why don’t you give them a quick tour of the orchards and the barns and I’ll clear up here?’

  ‘I’ll tag along,’ Asa said. ‘It’s always fun to see your dull old home through someone else’s eyes – makes it seem all new.’

  Giles beckoned them as he made for some large gates at the bottom of the garden. Posy and Carmel followed, with Asa bringing up the rear. Posy couldn’t imagine she’d ever find Asa’s home dull, not for one second. Everything was so delightfully chocolate-box cute here that she couldn’t imagine anyone thinking this place was boring, no matter how long they’d lived here. But having just met Asa it was still hard to know when he was displaying the dry, cutting wit that she was beginning to recognise as one of his most prominent characteristics, or if he actually meant what he said. Giles and Sandra already seemed easier to read; when they said something, generally they were being completely straight about it.

  In fact, as they made their way through two more gates and emerged at the entrance to the orchards, Giles tried his best to be informative about the varieties of apples they grew, what each one was good for and why they’d chosen to grow them, and many other facts besides, but he kept getting interrupted by Asa, who was more interested in London life. He wanted to know about restaurants or clubs someone had told him about, and
Posy felt very boring and disappointing admitting that she had personal experience of very few of the ones he’d named. She and her friends had regular haunts that they tended to favour, and these were often in the less glamorous parts of the city. They went back to those places again and again because they felt comfortable there, content with familiar faces and rules and etiquettes they understood. You never quite knew what sort of crowd you were going to find when you ventured elsewhere, and when they’d been tempted to try, they’d often all agreed that they preferred their regular places.

  Of course, that was back in the days when going out every weekend had been a must. That didn’t happen so much these days. Friends were busy or tired or bored or settling down. Half the time even the singletons with nothing better to do struggled to muster any enthusiasm for a night stuck to a bar trying to shout over music that they didn’t really care about and would never listen to at home, being hit on, felt up by drunken men old enough to know better, queuing for toilets and dodging the drug dealers plying their trade in shady corners. The gloss had certainly worn off for Posy long before now, and on the occasions she did bother, she’d arrive home at the end of the night wondering why she had.

  ‘It’s still very early for the apples,’ Giles said apologetically. ‘I’m afraid they don’t look that impressive at the moment.’

  They were certainly small, intense green and bullet-hard, but the sight of branches groaning with fruit and foliage despite it being early in the season was still beautiful. Posy looked up, a ray of sunlight piercing the canopy and making the leaves glow. If she tried to picture heaven, it might look a lot like this.

  ‘There are so many,’ Carmel said. ‘I never imagined the orchard was this big.’

  ‘Oh, this is only a section of it,’ Giles said. ‘We’ve got other varieties further on. We tend to use blends for our cider – single-variety ciders are difficult to perfect but if you blend them it’s much easier to get the perfect taste. You could look if you want.’

  ‘But it’s only more of the same,’ Asa cut in. ‘Once you’ve seen one apple tree you’ve seen them all. I’d say the cider house is much more interesting.’