A Taste of Home

by Heidi Swain

  ‘Look at this one of your mother,’ chuckled Grandad, as he turned a page. ‘It wasn’t even all that cold!’

  The snap was of Mum standing in the yard I now knew so well, in the snow. She looked as though she was wrapped in a hundred layers and had the biggest scowl on her face.

  ‘How old is she there?’ I asked.

  ‘Seven or eight I reckon,’ Grandad tutted, ‘and she didn’t build that snowman. She just stood there looking miserable and moaning to come back indoors while I did it.’

  ‘Given her obvious aversion to the cold, it’s no wonder we only ever visited the UK in the summer. For the rest of the year she always opted for far sunnier climes.’

  I helped put the albums away and felt another connecting layer adhering itself to the one I’d already established since I arrived. Fenview Farm was truly beginning to feel like my home now, the place where I was the perfect fit, even though until just a few weeks ago, I’d never even heard of it.

  ‘You’ll have to show me more of the photos on your phone,’ said Grandad, as he pulled me to my feet and I closed the sideboard door. ‘Although, I daresay you haven’t got any pictures of when you were little on it, have you?’

  It was then I realised that Grandad had just as many blanks to fill in as I did.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘Afraid not, but I have lots of Italy. I’d love to show you those.’

  Having looked at the photo Marco had sent, it felt all the more important that I should incorporate the Rossi family into my life at Fenview. In fact, the time to finally make Nonna’s beloved cherry and almond tart felt so close, I could almost taste it.

  * * *

  Having washed my hair the night before so it would be easier to pin up, I had a bubble bath and quick manicure. The new polish went on easily enough as I’d gone for clear because I’d never been any good at painting my nails, and then I put on some make-up.

  I’d never mastered the dramatic winged eyeliner technique some of the Rossi cousins favoured, but I managed a pretty enough smoky eye and enough liner to complete the look. Once I had zipped myself into the dress, I added a sweep of red lipstick, and a spritz of perfume for good measure.

  I slipped on the shoes and picked up the clutch, then turned one way and then the other in front of the bedroom mirror. Once I was satisfied that I looked, and felt, the best I ever had, I stepped out on to the landing and promptly bumped straight into Grandad. He looked at me for a moment as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

  ‘My goodness me,’ he gasped. ‘I hardly recognised you, Fliss.’

  ‘I hardly recognise myself,’ I laughed.

  ‘You always look beautiful,’ he kindly said, ‘you have the Brown genes, after all, but I’m used to seeing you in your work gear.’

  ‘I’d better give you a twirl then,’ I said, turning on the spot. ‘This might be the one and only time I look like this.’

  ‘You look stunning,’ he said, once I’d finished. ‘But there’s something missing. Come with me.’

  I followed him into his room where he opened the dressing table drawer and took out a jewellery box. He set it down on the bed and beckoned me over.

  ‘These,’ he said, presenting me with a small velvet box, ‘belonged to your great-grandmother. Your mum’s gran, that is. They were a ruby wedding present from your great-grandfather. Felicity never wore them,’ he sighed. ‘She was saving them for our ruby wedding, but of course, she sadly wasn’t here for that.’

  I sat on the bed, took the box and carefully opened it. Nestled inside, on pale pink silk, were two round ruby studs, surrounded by diamonds.

  ‘Oh, my goodness,’ I gulped as the overhead light caught them and they sparkled, sending myriad patterns dancing around the walls. ‘They’re exquisite. Are they real?’

  ‘Of course,’ Grandad smiled. ‘And they’ll go perfectly with your outfit.’

  I felt my phone suddenly vibrate in my bag which was on the bed next to me. It was a shock because it had never gone off in the house before, but in view of the conversation Grandad and I were having, I ignored it.

  ‘They would look amazing,’ I agreed, imagining the look and feel of them as I tried to hand the box back to Grandad, ‘but I can’t possibly wear them.’

  ‘Of course, you can,’ he insisted, putting his hands behind his back. ‘Besides, they’re yours now and I don’t hold any truck with saving things for best, not anymore, not since I lost your grandmother and now your mum. For all we know, this right now, this very moment, might be the best we’ve been waiting for or that we’ll get.’

  His words caused a lump to form in my throat. I looked at the earrings again. Having lost Mum at such a young age, I sadly understood exactly what he meant. One day, I wouldn’t have any more tomorrows, so what was the point in holding out? From now on, if an opportunity presented itself, I was going to take it. Or in this case, wear it.

  My phone buzzed again.

  ‘Almost everything in this box belongs to you now,’ said Grandad, picking up a sophisticated looking watch. ‘That, in part, was what I went to talk to my solicitor about.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ I swallowed.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything, but get those earrings on quick,’ he urged. ‘That’s probably your date who keeps making your phone go off. You don’t want to keep him waiting, do you?’

  ‘No,’ I said, my hands shaking as I put the earrings in.

  ‘There,’ said Grandad, looking from one ear to the other. ‘Just the ticket.’

  I leant forward and looked in the dressing table mirror. He was right, they did look wonderful.

  ‘What if I lose them?’ I nervously asked.

  ‘You won’t lose them,’ Grandad tutted.

  ‘Well, what about you?’ I asked. ‘Are you going to wear that watch?’

  ‘Not today,’ he said, turning it over. ‘But at some point, I certainly intend to.’

  ‘Is it a Rolex?’ I asked.

  It looked very old but in wonderful condition.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Passed down from Brown father to son and worth a pretty penny, so I’ve been told. I know I just said we shouldn’t save things for best, but you wouldn’t catch me picking fruit with this on my wrist.’

  ‘In that case, don’t you think it should be somewhere a bit more secure than your dressing table drawer?’

  ‘This is where it has always been kept,’ he said. ‘Now, look lively or you’ll be late.’

  ‘Are you not coming down?’ I asked, picking up my bag. ‘What time’s Eliot getting here?’

  ‘He’ll be a little while yet.’

  It was a shame he wasn’t going to arrive in time to see me leave. Seeing me step out, as Nonna always said, with another man, would show him that I was every bit as capable as him at keeping my feelings in check.

  ‘You have a lovely evening and I’ll see you later,’ Grandad kindly said. ‘I’m going to get showered, so lock the door and put the key back through the letterbox for me would you, there’s a love?’

  I kissed him lightly on the cheek so as not to leave a lipstick mark.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said, touching the rubies again.

  ‘Don’t keep fiddling with them,’ he scolded. ‘Otherwise you will lose them.’

  I locked the farmhouse door and posted the key back through as Grandad had requested and then checked my phone. There was a voicemail message from Anthony apologising that he might be a few minutes late.

  I sat under the apple tree, wondering if Eliot might actually arrive first, but it was Anthony’s Audi which swung into the yard. When he spotted me, he yanked off his sunglasses and jumped out of the car. For a second, he didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face more than justified the amount of money I’d spent on my outfit. It was a shame he was the only guy who was going to see it.

  ‘Wow,’ he said, sounding a little dazed, before walking over and kissing my cheek. He smelt divine, but there were no fluttery tummy fireworks, like whe
n Eliot was in such close proximity. ‘You look absolutely beautiful, Fliss.’

  ‘You don’t scrub up so bad yourself,’ I smiled, although of course he always looked smart so his transformation was nowhere near as surprising as mine.

  ‘What this old thing,’ he joked as we walked over to the car.

  He opened the passenger door and I sat on the edge of the seat before swinging my legs in. It felt completely alien, trying to embrace a touch of elegance. I had no hope of keeping it up all evening.

  ‘So,’ I said, discreetly touching the rubies, just to make sure they were still there, ‘where exactly are we going?’

  The restaurant was over an hour’s drive away, but Anthony promised it would be worth the journey, and the warm reception he received when we arrived suggested that he was a regular guest.

  The conversation between us in the car had flowed easily – mostly small talk – but it became a little stilted once we were seated and had listened to the waiter running through the elaborate and, to my mind, extortionately expensive, menu. I knew it was expensive because my menu didn’t have any prices on.

  ‘Is this all right?’ Anthony asked, looking at me in concern, once the waiter had gone. ‘It was the best place I could think of. I’ve always got on well here before.’

  He’d obviously gone to a lot of trouble to make an impression, so I could hardly tell him the restaurant felt out of my league and I was worried about using the wrong fork. I was completely out of my comfort zone but then I remembered why I had accepted his invitation, as well as the conversation we had had in the farm kitchen.

  He’d promised to tell me all about himself and I knew I was up to listening to that, even if I couldn’t order half the dishes because I couldn’t pronounce them. I took a deep breath, phased out the upmarket ambience and focused solely on him.

  ‘It’s wonderful,’ I smiled, taking a sip of the water that had been poured during the waiter’s lengthy monologue. ‘I’m just feeling a little impatient, that’s all.’

  ‘Impatient?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, looking straight at him. ‘We’ve been in each other’s company for a couple of hours now and I still don’t know if you’re a cat or dog person, if you believe in ghosts or what your favourite colour is.’

  Anthony’s shoulders relaxed and he shook his head.

  ‘Oh god,’ he grinned. ‘It’s a disaster, isn’t it?’

  ‘Total tragedy,’ I said, playing along.

  ‘I should have at least told you what I’d like to change about myself by now, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘At the very least,’ I pouted.

  ‘Well, it’s your fault,’ he shot back. ‘Had you not looked so beautiful against the backdrop of that shabby old farm, then I would have been able to stay on track, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Hey,’ I said, more than half meaning it. ‘Less of the shabby, thank you very much. That’s my heritage you’re talking about.’

  He held up his hands, half apology, half surrender.

  ‘But I suppose you’re right,’ I cheekily agreed. ‘I am a total vision, so it’s only natural that the backdrop didn’t look its best. Or,’ I frowned, ‘do I mean that I looked my best because the backdrop was a bit rough around the edges. That’s unsettling.’

  We both laughed and I felt heaps better. I wasn’t even bothered by the looks our laughter attracted from the other diners.

  ‘You were right first time,’ Anthony said. ‘You are a total vision.’

  ‘Phew,’ I said. ‘That’s all right then.’

  ‘God,’ he said, fixing me with a stare that was suddenly serious, ‘you really are a breath of fresh air.’

  Grandad had said that too, but he hadn’t meant it in the same way Anthony did.

  ‘You’re nothing like the girls I usually go out with,’ he carried on.

  ‘Lots of them, are there?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  He was nothing like the guys I usually went out with either, not that there had been many, and I felt rather bad that I was out with him with an ulterior motive. I would have to tread carefully now he had showed his hand. I didn’t want him feeling that I had used him, even if that was in part, what I was doing. Suddenly, I didn’t feel quite so good about myself.

  ‘And is that a compliment?’ I swallowed.

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said, his gaze shifting to my lips, ‘it is. A glowing commendation. Shall we have some champagne?’

  ‘But you’ve got to drive back,’ I reminded him.

  ‘We’ll get a taxi,’ he shrugged.

  I was about to say it would cost a fortune, but checked myself. Anthony didn’t strike me as the type of guy who worried all that much about money.

  ‘Champagne would be wonderful,’ I therefore said instead.

  The food was delicious, but there was nothing local and the portions were tiny. I didn’t say as much obviously, because it was high-end fine dining, not a pie in the pub, but even so, I knew I would be making a sandwich before I went to bed.

  ‘So,’ I said, as Anthony refilled my glass from our second bottle of champagne. ‘That’s green for me, red for you. Dogs for you because cats are too independent and both for me. What about ghosts?’

  ‘Bugger ghosts.’

  ‘Excuse me.’

  ‘I want to know more about you, Fliss.’

  ‘Isn’t that the whole point of this rapid-fire Q and A?’

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  ‘I thought your sources back in Wynbridge had already filled you in.’

  ‘They don’t know everything, obviously.’

  ‘We haven’t got time for everything,’ I batted back, feeling a little dizzy from the conversational back and forth as well as the bubbles.

  ‘Give me the potted history then. The bits you consider most important.’

  I drank some more champagne and gave him a very brief lowdown on my childhood, life with Mum in Italy, her death and my subsequent arrival in Wynbridge. I stuck to the facts, which perhaps came across as a little cold in bullet point format, but with a belly full of fizz, I wasn’t going to risk taking the emotional, and potentially tearful, route.

  ‘Finding out about Fenview must have been a dream come true, considering your passion for fruit farming,’ Anthony shrewdly said.

  ‘It really was.’

  ‘So, tell me more about that,’ he sounded genuinely interested. ‘Your eyes light up whenever you mention the place. What’s going on there? Have you got plans for it?’

  My fingers reached for the ruby earrings and my mind tracked back to the idea I’d had for the barn and the exciting future I envisaged for it.

  I might have been feeling tipsy but my inhibitions weren’t so lowered that my big idea was up for discussion. Grandad would be the first person to hear it, because he was the only person whose opinion mattered when it came to farm business.

  ‘I have got plans,’ I confirmed, ‘but I’m not ready to talk about them yet.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ Anthony shrugged. ‘I just hope they don’t involve that big barn.’

  It was the first time my heart had raced all evening.

  ‘The barn?’

  ‘Um,’ he said. ‘I noticed it when I called in before. The roof looks a little dipped, which made me wonder if the structure’s sound.’

  ‘Oh,’ I swallowed.

  It had seemed fine to me, but I’d have to check it out properly now.

  ‘But never mind about that,’ Anthony carried on. ‘Tell me about Eliot Randall. Have you factored him into your grand scheme?’

  ‘Eliot?’ I asked, puzzled. I hadn’t even realised he would know who Eliot was. ‘No, should I have done?’

  Anthony sat back in his chair and let out a long breath, then sat forward again and steepled his hands. His change of demeanour didn’t strike confidence and I wondered what on earth he was going to say.

  ‘Given the circumstances,’ he said, ‘I think you probably should.’

  ‘What circumstanc
es?’ I frowned.

  I hoped he wasn’t someone else who had got wind of mine and Eliot’s mutual attraction. Surely, he would have realised that if I felt something for Eliot then I wouldn’t be sitting opposite him in the swankiest restaurant in the county. That said, that was exactly what I was doing, wasn’t it? However, that wasn’t what he was getting at. At all.

  ‘You have heard the rumours about him, haven’t you?’ Anthony asked, with something akin to relish, and I felt the colour drain out of my world.

  Chapter 17

  Seeing the look on my face, Anthony apologised immediately and said it really wasn’t his place to say anything, but I couldn’t possibly let him get away with that.

  ‘It’s probably all bullshit,’ he backtracked, looking flustered. ‘Idle town gossip.’

  ‘That’s as maybe,’ I said, sitting up straighter, ‘but tell me what it is, and then I can decide for myself.’

  The abundance of bubbles was suddenly making me feel nauseous rather than relaxed and I set my glass down and pushed it away. As far as I was concerned, Eliot Randall was the perfect man, and I knew Grandad felt the same way too. Not for the same reasons, obviously, but he was the best friend and closest confidant my grandfather had.

  ‘All right,’ Anthony eventually caved. He didn’t look anything like as happy as he had before. ‘I’ll tell you, but you have to promise to remember that this is all hearsay, okay. Promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ I said, remembering one of Nonna’s favourite maxims - There’s no smoke without fire.

  That saying was never far from her lips, usually when word had reached her that Marco had been up to mischief with the neighbouring farmer’s daughter in the olive grove (again) and he was hotly denying it. I hoped I wasn’t about to find myself capable of applying the same aphorism to Eliot.

  Anthony ran a hand through his hair which fell neatly back into place and I immediately thought of Eliot’s hair which never laid right when he’d been on his bike and how he didn’t care at all. I would have been hard pushed to find two more different men anywhere on the planet.

  ‘Okay,’ Anthony began. ‘Well, it was the arrival of the bike that first got folk talking.’