by Heidi Swain
It was time to take action, just like I had in Puglia when Alessandro told us that there was a hole to plug in the farm’s finances. I had got my thinking cap on then and, inspired by Mum’s meandering across the globe, struck on the ideal opportunity to assist the Rossis. Hopefully what I had in mind for Fenview Farm would be every bit as much of a triumph.
I went back outside, remembering another job which had been playing on my mind. I quickly straightened and washed the grime off the roadside farm sign, then went back to the house feeling content with my morning’s work. I was a bit grubby, but happy, and my hangover was completely forgotten as was everything that Anthony had told me about Eliot.
‘I was just about to ring the gong,’ said Grandad, who had packed away his laptop and was busy at the cooker. ‘It’s well after twelve. You said you’d only be an hour.’
‘I know,’ I said, as I pulled off my boots. ‘I got carried away.’
‘For a change,’ Grandad grinned.
‘What’s for lunch?’ I asked. ‘It smells great.’
‘A lovely bit of brisket and I’m just about to put the Yorkshire puddings in.’
‘Fantastic,’ I said, my tum rumbling in true Pooh Bear fashion. ‘I’m famished.’
Grandad turned from the oven to look at me properly and his face dropped.
‘Oh Fliss,’ he tutted. ‘What have you been doing? You’re filthy.’
I tried to run a hand through my hair but it felt clogged with dust and my arms and legs were covered in a cloying layer. I hadn’t realised I was in such a state.
‘Don’t answer that,’ said Grandad, scolding me as if I was a child who had been making mud pies and stirring puddles with sticks. ‘Just go and get showered.’
‘But what about the puddings?’
‘They’ll be a few minutes yet. You can get done in that time, can’t you?’
With the promise of a fully laden roast, I was washed, dressed in clean clothes and back downstairs in no time. Grandad piled our plates high and as it was a little cooler, we ate inside, but with the back door open.
‘How did you get on with the laptop?’ I asked Grandad as I spooned more broad beans and white sauce on to my plate.
‘Fine,’ he said. ‘I think. I wrote a letter using the Word thingy, just for practice, but I’m not sure if I saved it or not.’
‘I didn’t know you could type.’
I realised there were a lot of things I didn’t know about him. I could most likely spend the rest of my life at Fenview Farm and still discover something new every day. It was an exciting, rather than demoralising thought and made me more determined than ever to squeeze the most out of each and every day. I had almost thirty years to make up for, after all.
‘I can’t,’ Grandad laughed. ‘It was a very short letter.’
As he’d prepped and cooked, I cleared, washed and put away. It didn’t take all that long but every extra minute in the house gave the dust more opportunity to settle in the barn. As we’d eaten, I’d had another idea I wanted to complete before the grand reveal, so I mentally rescheduled showing it all to Grandad until teatime.
‘What are you doing this afternoon?’ I asked him, as I threw the damp tea-towel into the washing machine.
‘Finding out what you’ve been up to this morning, I hope,’ he said.
‘I could just do with a few more minutes, if that’s all right?’
‘In that case,’ he said, ‘I’ll shift snoozing in my chair to top of the agenda. I want to be properly rested to help with the harvest. Last year was a disaster for my mental health, having to watch Jake and Chris do all the donkey work, but this year with the new contract and the new hip, I’m feeling more like my old self and looking forward to getting stuck in again.’
‘Oh right,’ I said, pretending to huff, ‘and there was me thinking that my arrival was the reason behind the upturn in your wellbeing.’
Grandad shook his head. ‘You know full well the huge part you’ve already played in that,’ he chuckled. ‘Don’t go fishing for compliments.’
‘Fair enough,’ I grinned.
I hoped the revelation of my big idea was going to send his spirits soaring even higher. If he was onboard, and if he agreed to let me invest my savings in the project, then the farm could be facing a dazzlingly bright future and his mental health would be fully restored. It was a thrilling prospect.
* * *
With Grandad softly snoring and the television babbling in the background, I got together everything I needed to complete my presentation.
Just as I had hoped, the dust had settled and with the addition of a cloth on the makeshift table, rugs and cushions on the bales, and fresh flowers in rinsed out jars, the barn looked a treat. I set out the crockery and cutlery, but left the food for our afternoon tea in the cool box, just in case the cat took a fancy to it, and then went back to the house.
‘Time for a cuppa?’ I asked Grandad, who had just woken up.
‘Is it that time already?’
‘It’s gone half four.’
‘It never is!’
‘It is,’ I laughed at his outraged tone. ‘You had a dig at me for getting up late this morning, but you’ve practically slept the entire afternoon away.’
‘I only meant to have half an hour or so. I’ll get the kettle on.’
‘The tea’s made,’ I told him. ‘But we’re not having it in the house. Come with me.’
My heart was solidly thudding as we walked to the barn and Grandad looked completely confused because he’d assumed we were heading for the apple tree. I’d left the barn doors wide open, a bale holding each back and the light streamed in picking out the few motes which still refused to settle.
‘What’s all this?’ Grandad frowned.
His gaze tracked from the pretty improvised eating area to the makeshift display of some of his collection.
‘What have you been up to, Fliss?’
I led him to his garden chair, which I’d carried inside because I wasn’t sure how he’d cope with perching on a bale, but he didn’t want to sit down.
‘I’ve never seen it all arranged like this before,’ he huskily said, looking over the few bits and pieces from his collection that I’d gathered together. ‘There’s a lot more than I thought. There didn’t look to be anything like this amount when it was all still in boxes.’
‘And this is nowhere near half of it,’ I said, pointing out the rest tucked to one side. ‘There’s all that lot, too.’
While he looked at everything, I set out the food and poured the tea. The occupation stopped me getting ahead of myself and blurting out what it was I had in mind. I knew that if I let my enthusiasm get the better of me, I would forget things, or get in a muddle, and I wanted to give this idea the best possible shot.
‘There’s tea here, Grandad.’
He reluctantly left the collection and sat down, and I handed him a plate filled with finger sandwiches, mini scotch eggs, a slice of quiche and a couple of sausage rolls. It was a technique I’d seen Nonna adopt in the past and to great effect.
Whenever she wanted to speak without interruption, she gave the person who was going to be on the receiving end mountains of food and made sure they’d tucked in before launching forth, and that was what I planned to do.
I waited with bated breath, but Grandad didn’t fall for my cunning plan and simply balanced the plate on his lap. He was supposed to be chewing before I said anything further, but I was out of luck.
‘Come on then,’ he said, his mouth still empty. ‘Out with it. I know you haven’t gone to all this bother just to bring me down here and stuff me full of tea.’
Had I met my match? Nonna would have been mightily amused that Grandad had seen through her ruse, but I felt my fragile confidence and courage crumble a little. Not only had Grandad seen through Nonna’s psychology, but his tone had a defensive edge to it too. I would have much preferred an amused one, something malleable that I could readily bend to my will.
&nb
sp; ‘Well,’ I said, knowing I would just have to go for it, whether he was chewing or not, ‘I’ve been thinking about the farm and its future and as wonderful as the new Cherry Tree contract is, I don’t think it’s enough. I think we need to have other irons in the fire, beyond Jemma and Chris and Jake, if we want to see the place really thriving again.’
‘I agree,’ said Grandad.
His acquiescence made my heart skip as did watching him finally take a bite of the quiche.
‘Has this got bacon from Skylark Farm in it?’ he asked, once he’d swallowed his first mouthful.
‘Yes, it’s their streaky smoked.’
‘Go on then,’ he said, taking another bite.
I swallowed hard and stood up straighter.
‘And I’ve been listening to what people have been saying about having nowhere local to eat in the evenings.’
‘There’s the pub.’
‘And a couple of restaurants, but nothing else. People want a new local experience and, having listened to Jake too, I think there’s an opportunity for not only offering a different venue, but a rather different dining experience as well.’
Grandad’s eyes roved around the barn.
‘Jemma said she’s not prepared to open in the evenings and Jake mentioned that he would love to sell dishes showcasing the food he can create with the produce he and Amber have perfected at the farm, but they haven’t got the room.’
Grandad’s eyes tracked back to me.
‘What I’m thinking,’ I said, walking over to his collection, ‘is that we could open the barn up as an exclusive supper club. We could invite different growers, farmers, and producers to come and serve dishes here, featuring their own produce. We could keep it local, seasonal, fresh and exciting. We could even have pudding evenings, highlighting the fruit that we grow here.’
Grandad didn’t say anything so I carried on.
‘All the food, other than ours, could be prepared offsite to begin with.’ I had plans to install a catering kitchen in one of the adjoining outhouses if the idea took off, as well as cloakrooms and a wood burner to keep the barn cosy in the winter, but I didn’t want to get into all of that too soon.
‘And it wouldn’t take much to create an authentic rustic ambience which the guests would love because the setting already is rustic. Some twinkling fairy lights, lots of greenery for decoration and to top it all off, your collection, would be more than enough. I thought we could change your things to match the seasons. There’s certainly enough of it to do that. The collection could be a real draw and a fantastic USP to give the enterprise a unique edge.’
I watched as Grandad put the last bit of quiche back on the plate.
‘There’s parking for a dozen cars if we reorganised the yard a bit,’ I carried on. ‘And I think a monthly or twice monthly event would be more than enough to keep it exclusive and create demand. We could charge for venue hire and decoration along with a share of the ticket price.’
Grandad opened his mouth to say something.
‘Oh,’ I said, clapping my hands together, ‘and I thought we could have some space,’ I added, pointing to the back wall, ‘to highlight a local artist. Like Bec for example and we could have all your papers and things properly framed for display.’ I finally stopped to draw breath and looked around. ‘I think that’s it. So, what do you think?’
It took me a moment to get my breath back and my rapid heart rate steadied. I hoped I’d done the idea justice. I’d ended up getting a bit gushy and carried away, just as I’d known I would, but that was only because I was so excited. Fingers crossed my enthusiasm for the project was highly contagious and Grandad had caught a dose too.
‘Well,’ he eventually said, looking around again. ‘You’ve clearly given it a lot of thought.’
‘I have,’ I cut in, ‘and I know there’s definitely some demand but I’m going to look further into exactly how much… sorry.’
‘And in theory,’ he carried on.
I felt my shoulders drop.
‘In theory, it sounds amazing, but to do it properly would cost a fortune, Fliss.’
‘Only a relatively small one,’ I insisted. ‘And we could easily get going without the kitchen and loos. We could get a few quotes in for the work that needs doing and do loads more planning before making a bigger financial investment.’
‘But we haven’t got the funds to make a bigger financial investment, Fliss or even a small one come to that.’
‘But I have,’ I said. ‘I have more than enough saved to get us going and,’ I quickly added to gloss over the suggestion that I would be putting in all of my own money, ‘I could do all the prep myself. I can do rustic and simple standing on my head. I could start everything off and then…’
‘But I wouldn’t want you to risk putting your own money in,’ Grandad said, focusing on the one thing I’d tried to rush over. ‘And as you know, I haven’t got a spare bean.’
He sounded upset rather than excited and that was the last thing I wanted.
‘Please don’t say no,’ I pleaded, crossing my fingers. ‘And don’t worry about the money. We’ve got to speculate to accumulate.’
I was pretty certain that if I went to the bank with a bona fide business plan we’d be approved for a loan, but I didn’t suggest that. Not given the Brown attitude to borrowing. And besides, I really did have enough to cover it sitting in my savings account.
‘I’m sorry, my love,’ Grandad said, shaking his head. ‘It’s a grand idea, it really is, but it’s not just about the money.’
‘What then?’ I shot back. ‘What else is it about?’
‘It’s just out of the question.’
That wasn’t a proper answer.
‘Why?’ I demanded, frustrated that he wouldn’t explain. ‘Why is it out of the question?’
He refused to tell me and I inwardly cursed that I’d got carried away and suggested it before I’d done further research. I should have at least got Jake onside before I said anything. I should have got him and Amber fired up and then we could have presented the proposal together.
‘If it is the money that you’re worried about, but you’re pretending it isn’t…’
‘It’s not that,’ Grandad snappily said.
I walked over and reached for his hand.
‘What then?’ I asked again. ‘I thought you’d love this. I thought you wanted to move the farm forward and this idea will do that, in a really exciting way.’
Grandad shook his head.
‘It’s got to be better than Jemma’s idea of selling the barn for conversion,’ I joked.
My ears picked up a rumble on the road which heralded the approach of a certain Ducati. I let go of Grandad’s hand and, resigned, sat back on the bales. Discussion time was over. Not that I felt we’d had a discussion, not a proper one anyway. I would have needed to know why Grandad was objecting to the idea in order to have properly thrashed it all out.
‘What’s all this then?’ Eliot asked as he wandered in a few seconds later, his bike helmet tucked under his arm.
‘Nothing important,’ I shrugged, feeling decidedly lacklustre.
Originally, I hadn’t wanted anyone else to see it all, not even Eliot, but it didn’t matter now. So much for the plan to restore my pep. Not even the sight of Eliot looking lovely in full leathers could breathe life into my sagging spirits.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Right. Well, it all looks great.’
I shot Grandad a loaded look, but he purposefully wasn’t looking at me.
‘See?’ I wanted to say to him. ‘It will work.’ But I didn’t.
‘I think I’ll go back up to the house,’ he huskily said, standing up and handing me his plate. ‘Do you want to come with me, Eliot?’
‘Can do,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘I only stopped because I spotted the barn was open and wanted to make sure everything was all right, but I’ve got a few minutes before I need to get to Walter’s place. Are you coming, Fliss?’
‘
No,’ I tightly said. ‘I need to tidy this lot away.’
‘Want a hand?’
‘No thanks.’
I knew I sounded sulky and I didn’t mean to take my disappointment at Grandad’s reluctance to climb aboard the good ship supper club out on him, but I couldn’t seem to help myself.
‘Bec was moaning earlier that she’s tried ringing your mobile, but it’s switched off.’
‘There’s no point having it on,’ I told him. ‘There’s not enough signal to warrant wasting the battery. Is she all right?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘She’s fine.’ Then his tone changed. ‘I think she wanted to ask how you got on last night.’
I pasted on a smile thinking that as everything else had been such a flop, I might as well make the most of this opportunity.
‘Can you tell her it was wonderful,’ I dreamily sighed, hopefully implying that I was reliving a very happy memory, ‘and that I’ll fill her in next week?’
‘Will do,’ he glumly said. ‘Come on then, Bill.’
I knew I would have to give Bec a dramatically doctored retelling of how the evening had gone because I could hardly tell her that her brother had been the hot topic, and not in a good way, could I?
‘Thank you,’ I said to his and Grandad’s retreating backs.
I watched them walk away and along with them went my hopes and dreams for the farm’s new venture. I had no idea why Grandad was so set against my seasonal supper club plans and, as he obviously had no intention of telling me, that was the end of that.
Chapter 19
Later that evening, after Eliot had gone, I couldn’t resist asking Grandad again why he was so against the diversification idea, but he refused to expand on what he’d already said. We didn’t argue about it, but this back and forth continued into the following week and by then, our newly-formed relationship was beginning to feel the strain.
