A Taste of Home

by Heidi Swain

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I can’t.’

  * * *

  Back at the farm, I was both surprised and frustrated to find Grandad was still in bed. With him asleep in the room, there was no opportunity to satisfy my suspicions and I flitted from one task to another, achieving little and settling to nothing properly.

  Eventually, feeling desperate for distraction, I turned on his laptop and set about creating the Fenview Farm Instagram account. I would eventually use it to promote the supper club so establishing a bit of a following before it launched would be a great help.

  I put the finishing touches on a sunny image I’d taken of the strawberry field with the hens in the foreground, adding as many hashtags as I could think of, then logged off just as the throaty rumble of Eliot’s bike met my ears.

  ‘Morning,’ he said as he wandered in, leather clad, dishevelled and looking lovely.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  For the briefest moment, sitting in the Land Rover with Anthony, safe in the knowledge that I’d read him wrong, and in spite of the fact that he had romantic feelings for me and had caught me looking at Eliot all doe-eyed, I’d felt good, but the sight of that watch had been a huge shock and now I just felt bilious.

  ‘All right,’ I nodded. ‘Lots to think about though.’

  ‘Mm,’ Eliot agreed.

  ‘Look,’ I began, ‘about what Anthony said.’

  ‘Do we have to talk about that?’

  ‘We don’t have to, but…’

  ‘Good,’ he cut in, before hauling himself out of his leathers. ‘Is Bill about?’

  It was only then that I realised I hadn’t heard a peep out of Grandad. There had been no squeaking floorboards to prompt me to fill the kettle.

  ‘Do you know,’ I said, forgetting everything else, ‘he’s still in bed.’

  Eliot looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

  ‘I had to pop into town earlier and he was still asleep when I got back.’

  ‘I was a bit worried about him yesterday,’ Eliot frowned. ‘I think he’s taking on too much.’

  ‘No, he isn’t,’ I snapped. ‘I haven’t let him.’

  ‘But with all the changes…’

  ‘I’m dealing with those,’ I told him. ‘I haven’t dumped anything on him, if that’s what you’re suggesting.’

  ‘Of course, it isn’t,’ he said, looking surprised. ‘What’s got into you, Fliss? I thought you’d be walking on air.’

  I heard a creaking overhead.

  ‘There,’ I huffed. ‘You’ve woken him up.’

  ‘I’ll go and check on him then, shall I?’

  I felt bad when they eventually came down because Grandad did look a bit peaky, even though he insisted he was fine.

  ‘Just not used to sleeping for so long,’ he said, when I commented that he looked pale. ‘I’m all out of kilter, but I’ll be right enough when I’ve had a cuppa.’

  ‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ said Eliot, addressing Grandad. ‘I’m sure you’ll be right as rain again tomorrow, but I’ll ring anyway, just to check.’

  ‘Fuss over nothing,’ Grandad smiled as Eliot thrust his legs back into his suit. ‘But it’s been a pleasure to see you again today, my lad.’

  ‘At least someone thinks so,’ Eliot grumbled, as he zipped up and walked out.

  ‘Have you two fallen out?’ Grandad asked as we heard the bike start up.

  ‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘We’re right as rain too.’

  Chapter 26

  Worryingly, Grandad wasn’t as right as rain the next day and took to his bed for the whole day. We had planned to drive to town to take part in the bank holiday celebrations, but instead he quietly rested and I caught up with the fruit picking, cleaned out the hens and carried on writing up my supper club plans.

  I briefly checked in with Marco again, giving him the good news that Saturday had been a success and Nonna’s semifreddo a total triumph. I also passed on Bec’s email address and mobile number at her request, and later researched ideas on how best to convert the barn and what official permission we would need in order to get the project underway.

  In spite of my best efforts to keep my mind occupied it was still filled with the image of the watch I had seen Anthony proudly wearing. With no way of sneaking unseen into Grandad’s room to check, my thoughts were dominated by a cocktail of upset and fear and the tiniest chaser of hope that it was all just an unsettling coincidence and Anthony’s new watch wasn’t the treasured Brown family timepiece at all.

  Tuesday dawned with a palpable air of relief because Grandad, although a little pale, was seemingly back to his old self and once out of bed, only slightly later than usual, I offered to air his bedroom and change the sheets.

  ‘Oh, yes please,’ he said, enthusiastically taking up my offer and subsequently triggering a pang of guilt. ‘That would be much appreciated.’

  As soon as I could see he was settled in his chair under the apple tree with the newspaper, I abandoned the bed, went to the dressing table and took out the jewellery box. My hands were shaking as I lifted the lid. Everything was still neatly arranged, but on the bottom layer there was the Rolex box shaped gap I had dreaded, but known deep down, that I would see.

  My stomach churned and my hands felt clammy as I returned the depleted box to the drawer. There was no doubting it now. Anthony was wearing my great-grandfather’s watch, but why had Grandad parted with it? He had told me it was precious, that it held many special family memories, so why had he let it go?

  Was this what he and Louise had been secretly talking about? Selling his prized family heirloom and, if it was, then why did Grandad need that sort of money? My guts lurched again as I wondered if at some point in the not too distant future, he was going to surprise me with a supper club set-up fund. Was selling the watch a decision he’d made after he’d originally dismissed the club idea and before he told Eliot to give me the go-ahead?

  I sincerely hoped not because I genuinely wanted to use my savings to get the business up and running. I could easily work to replace the cash, but no amount of filled punnets and boxes of apples would be able to replace the watch.

  I re-made the bed and rushed downstairs remembering that Anthony had said he’d found the watch in the jewellers in the courtyard. I would go there and quiz the staff before talking to Grandad. Anything to put off having to face the potentially unpalatable truth – that he had parted with his treasure to help fulfil my vision.

  He walked back into the kitchen just as I arrived in it and I quickly scooped up my bag along with the Land Rover keys.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ I asked.

  If he wasn’t able to convince me that he was at least ninety-five per cent better then my quest would have to wait.

  ‘I’m fine,’ he said, waving my concern away. ‘Don’t fuss.’

  His impatient dismissal was good enough for me. If he was well enough to object to my coddling then he was well enough to be left alone for an hour or so.

  ‘But I’m a bit worried about the weather,’ he added.

  ‘The weather?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I reckon there’s a storm brewing and that won’t be good news for our fruit.’

  The sky I could see through the window was blue for as far as my eyes could see.

  ‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ I said, thinking he was fretting over nothing.

  ‘You haven’t experienced a Wynbridge storm yet, have you?’ he pointed out. ‘Where are you off to all of a sudden?’

  ‘I need to pop to town,’ I told him. ‘I won’t be long. Do you need anything picking up?’

  ‘No,’ he said, looking outside again. ‘I don’t think so, but you better hang on a minute, there’s someone just pulled on to the drive.’

  I felt my frustration grow as I looked out the door and saw a man dressed in a suit climb out of his car, reach back inside for a clipboard and then stride over to the barn. Before I’d had a chance to take a step,
he’d slipped inside.

  ‘The cheeky bugger,’ said Grandad, clearly irritated, as was I.

  ‘I’ll go,’ I firmly said.

  The last thing I needed was for him to get riled up.

  ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on?’ I suggested. ‘Whoever he is, he’s bound to expect tea. Everyone around here does.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Grandad muttered, but he filled the kettle anyway.

  ‘Can I help you?’ I demanded, as I marched into the barn and found the man sticking his rather beaky nose into the boxes which held some of Grandad’s collection. ‘That’s private property, as is this barn. What do you think you’re doing?’

  He turned to look at me, in his own time which was irritatingly much slower than mine, then consulted the clipboard in his hand.

  ‘Felicity Brown?’ he questioned.

  He both looked and sounded annoyingly smug.

  ‘Yes,’ I said, standing straighter. ‘That’s me. What do you want and who are you?’

  ‘My name is Peter Pagett, I’m from the council.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, raising my eyebrows in the hope that it might encourage him to elaborate.

  He took his time looking around. Beadily taking everything in before he spoke again.

  ‘I’m here to discuss an event which occurred here at the weekend.’

  ‘You’d better come into the house then,’ I said, attempting to usher him out.

  I had no idea as to what there could possibly be to discuss, but I didn’t like seeing him in the barn any more than I had liked watching him poke his nose into Grandad’s things.

  ‘Mr Pagett,’ I bluntly said to Grandad when we went into the house. ‘From the council, here to discuss Saturday night.’

  Grandad looked as clueless as I felt.

  ‘Tea?’ he offered.

  ‘No thank you,’ Peter Pagett said, again checking something on his clipboard. ‘Was this the kitchen where the food that was served on Saturday was prepared?’

  ‘Yes,’ I frowned.

  He pulled a pen out of his top pocket and put a tick next to something I couldn’t read because it was upside down and too far away. I gripped the back of a chair. My frustration with being held up was already on a slow rolling boil and I could feel it bubbling faster with every second.

  ‘And,’ he said, glancing up from the sheet, ‘the barn that we were just in was where the food was served, was it?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said again, raising my eyebrows in Grandad’s direction. ‘But I’m guessing you already know that.’

  ‘I just need you to confirm it, Miss Brown,’ he said with a nauseating smile.

  ‘Have you got some sort of ID?’ Grandad asked. ‘What’s with all the questions?’

  ‘It has come to my department’s attention,’ Mr Pagett explained in a monotone and as if he was reading straight from a manual, ‘that you have been preparing food for public consumption in a kitchen that has not been council approved. As far as I am aware, you have no food business registration, no food safety qualifications and there has been no visit from the environmental health team. Is that all correct?’

  ‘Yes,’ I shrugged, ‘but…’

  ‘And furthermore,’ he continued, ‘you have also been using the barn outside as a venue in which to serve the food that has been prepared here in this kitchen. That is correct, isn’t it?’

  Grandad and I exchanged another look.

  ‘Where are the conveniences for your paying guests?’ he continued, having consulted his list and piped up again before either of us could answer.

  ‘Conveniences,’ Grandad repeated, sounding nonplussed. ‘Paying guests?’

  ‘Look,’ I said, holding up my hands. ‘Just hang on a minute. The kitchen hasn’t been approved and the barn hasn’t been registered because the business isn’t up and running yet. It won’t be launched until the conversion work has been carried out.’

  ‘And yet you had a function here Saturday evening?’

  ‘What we had,’ Grandad furiously said, ‘were a few local friends visiting to try out some of my granddaughter’s wonderful food. No money changed hands and anyone who needed the loo nipped into the house.’

  ‘Our get together Saturday night,’ I exasperatedly told Mr Peter Pagett, ‘was nothing more than a dinner party for friends.’

  ‘I see,’ he said.

  ‘I am going to be converting the barn and setting it up as a venue for hosting supper club evenings featuring different local producers in the future, but right now we’re miles away from that. Right at the beginning of the journey in fact, but if I have to deal with people like you to reach the destination, then…’

  ‘Fliss,’ Grandad cut in.

  ‘It was a dinner party,’ I restated, amending my tone. ‘For friends. Nothing more.’

  ‘May I ask who suggested otherwise?’ Grandad asked.

  That was a very good question.

  ‘You may,’ said Mr Pagett. ‘But I am not at liberty to tell you.’

  ‘Some snake in the grass,’ I said to Grandad, ‘looking to scupper our plans before we’ve even started. It certainly wouldn’t have been anyone who was here on Saturday.’

  ‘Of course, it wasn’t,’ he agreed.

  ‘I’m sure they reported what was going on with the best of intentions,’ said Mr Pagett. ‘Their motivation would no doubt have been a concern for public health and safety.’

  I had to laugh at that.

  ‘There was absolutely no risk to public health and safety…’ I started.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ Grandad cut in, sensing that my temper was about to get the better of me.

  ‘I can see myself out,’ said Mr Pagett, thankfully doing just that.

  ‘Don’t worry about the apology for wasting our time,’ I called after him, ‘or taxpayers’ money.’

  ‘Fliss!’ Grandad scolded. ‘Pipe down.’

  ‘Well,’ I scowled.

  ‘Well nothing,’ he said. ‘If he’s the fella we end up having to deal with, then we’ll need to keep him onside.’

  ‘We won’t have to keep anyone onside,’ I told him, ‘because this place is going to be perfect by the time we want to register it and launch the business. I’m going to make sure that neither he nor anyone else can find fault with a single thing, but first I want to find out who reported us. What a ridiculously petty thing to do and what a waste of time!’

  ‘My reckoning is that no one did,’ Grandad mildly said. ‘Tom works for the council, doesn’t he? He most likely mentioned what a lovely weekend he’d had to his colleagues in his office and that jobsworth, Pagett overheard and made it his business to come and rap our knuckles before he’d got the full story.’

  I couldn’t believe he could be so calm about it.

  ‘Do you really think that?’

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘The council is full of chaps like him. They’re always desperate to use the little bit of authority their job titles give them. Now, are you still going to town?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said, my temper dissipating as I thought of what I was going to do next. ‘Is that all right?’

  ‘Of course,’ he nodded. ‘Just make sure you’re back before this storm hits.’

  I looked out at the still clear blue sky and sunshine.

  ‘It’s definitely coming,’ he said, spotting my doubtful expression. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’

  * * *

  The town was quiet after what I imagined were the excesses of the bank holiday celebrations and therefore, I split the delivery of fruit between Jemma and Chris Dempster so neither would be left with produce they couldn’t sell. Both Jemma and Lizzie were still full of enthusiasm for Saturday night and I knew neither they nor Jake and Amber would have played a part in reporting us to the council.

  ‘I wouldn’t be too long before you head back to the farm,’ said Lizzie, following me to the café door and looking out. ‘There’s a storm coming.’

  ‘Not you as well,’ I tutted. ‘Everyone’s
obsessed with the weather today, and look at it. A perfect summer’s day.’

  ‘Not according to Annie, who was here earlier,’ she darkly said before disappearing back inside.

  Bella and Princess were sitting outside the boutique when I walked around to the courtyard.

  ‘Hello my love,’ Bella warmly smiled. ‘Are you coming to see me?’

  ‘Not today I’m afraid,’ I said, reluctantly turning towards the jewellers.

  I hesitated, taking in the peeling signage and gloomy interior. The little shop would have been a perfect addition to Diagon Alley and when I stepped over the threshold, I discovered that the proprietor could have been mistaken for Mr Ollivander himself.

  ‘Hello my dear,’ he smiled. ‘Can I help you with anything, or would you prefer to browse?’

  ‘I do need some help actually,’ I swallowed, knowing there was nothing to be gained from prolonging the agony. ‘I want to ask you about something that I believe you had for sale here recently.’

  ‘Ask away,’ the shopkeeper obligingly said. ‘I’ll willingly help if I can.’

  ‘It was a watch,’ I said, my voice catching, ‘a gent’s Rolex.’

  ‘The nineteen forties rose gold square,’ he beamed.

  He sounded utterly besotted.

  ‘That’s the one,’ I nodded.

  ‘Came in and out as quick as a flash,’ he said, sounding regretful. ‘If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have put it out so soon. I would have liked a bit longer in its company. The arrowhead shaped batons and exquisite movement,’ he dreamily added, clasping his hands together. ‘Such a rarity and in such wonderful condition.’

  There was no doubting it was Grandad’s watch he was describing, but of course I’d known it would be, what with the Rolex-shaped gap in the jewellery box back at the farm. Coming out of his reverie the shopkeeper looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

  ‘There wasn’t a problem with it, was there? The person who sold it had more than the usual provenance and I paid handsomely for it.’

  ‘Oh no,’ I said. ‘No problem at all. I’d just like to know if you can remember anything about the person who came in with it.’

  ‘Oh, well…’ he began, taking a step back, ‘I’m not sure…’