Appleby Farm

by Cathy Bramley

  ‘Two months,’ I pleaded. ‘Please. Give me two months to make a proper go of the tea rooms and to come up with an alternative plan before you give Julian an answer.’ Even as my mouth was forming the words, I was aware how ridiculous it was. Short of winning the lottery, what could I possibly conjure up in that time?

  ‘All right,’ whispered Uncle Arthur, shooting a worried look towards the kitchen. ‘But it’s just between you and me. Don’t tell your auntie or she’ll have my guts for garters.’

  I grabbed hold of his whiskery face and planted a smacker on his cheek. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. Now, I must dash. I’ve got tea rooms to open.’

  By eleven o’clock quite a crowd had built up outside the tea rooms. The great and the good of Lovedale and the surrounding villages were there, as well as the delightful Patience Purdue from the planning office, the Gazette’s photographer and a mousy lady called Jayne from the local tourist information office. Quite a few families had arrived and I would be eternally grateful to Tilly for baking the biggest mountain of cookies I’d ever seen to hand out to the over-excited children.

  The place was buzzing. I was buzzing, come to that, and despite all the drama of the first part of the day, I was having a ball. Ross and I had tied the huge blue ribbon across the locked barn doors into a big bow and it looked fabulous. Then Lizzie realized she’d been locked in and pressed herself up against the glass from the inside, yelling for help until Ross reminded her that she could escape through the fire exit. But now all of us were ready for the grand opening.

  I beckoned Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur to join me at the ribbon and handed them the gold scissors.

  I cleared my throat and mothers and wives shushed their children and husbands respectively.

  ‘Good morning, everyone, and welcome to Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms. Thank you all so much for joining us on this very special occasion. I hope that the tea rooms will become a real hub of the community in the months to come and that you’ll all become regular guests.’

  I crossed my fingers behind my back praying that this would be the case and that Julian’s sale would simply evaporate into thin air.

  ‘So without further ado …’

  My eye was suddenly distracted by a taxi speeding into the yard and grinding to a halt in a cloud of dust. A tall elegant woman emerged, slammed the door and ran as quickly as her heels would allow towards the crowd.

  ‘Mum!’ I cried.

  ‘Freya! I’m not too late, am I?’

  ‘Over to you, Uncle Arthur.’ I grinned and dashed through the crowd to give my mum a hug.

  ‘I’m delighted to declare the Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms well and truly open,’ said Uncle Arthur, doing his best to hack his way through the thick ribbon with Auntie Sue’s sewing scissors.

  The doors opened, the crowd surged forward and Tilly, Lizzie and Auntie Sue fought their way inside to take their places at the counter.

  ‘This is such a lovely surprise,’ I squealed, kissing Mum’s cheek.

  ‘You didn’t really think I’d miss my little girl’s big day, did you, darling?’ She laughed, her brown eyes shining happily.

  ‘I’m so glad.’ I fanned my face to fend off the tears. ‘Come on, let’s go inside and see if we can find you a table.’

  ‘A table? You must be joking,’ she said, slipping off her jacket. ‘You can find me an apron, please, I’m here to help!’

  My mum had flown in from Paris to be my waitress. My chest heaved with happiness.

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  Chapter 30

  At five minutes past five the last group of customers left the tea rooms.

  ‘Bye, thank you for coming!’ I waved them off towards the car park, stepped back inside and pulled a victory elbow-into-the-hip punch.

  ‘Right. Beer and bubbles!’

  Tilly uncorked bottles of prosecco and I passed round glasses and bottles of beer, specially stashed in the fridge for this moment, and a merry little crowd toasted our first day’s trading. As well as my staff (loved, loved, loved saying that!), I’d asked Goat and his men to join us for a celebratory drink. Eddy and Ross came along too and a party atmosphere soon kicked in.

  I worked the room, making sure everyone had a drink, thanking each person for their help and dispensing either a hug or a kiss as I deemed fit.

  My beautiful mum was leaning against the ice-cream counter in conversation with Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur. She had worked like a Trojan for me, clearing tables and washing up, ferrying dirty and clean crockery backwards and forwards to the kitchen in the farmhouse where there was more space. She still looked elegant and fresh, despite having had to leave Paris at some ungodly hour this morning. I, on the other hand, through a monumental slip-up on my part, had forgotten to train anyone else to use the coffee machine and so had steamed myself to within an inch of my life all day making cappuccinos and lattes. Any make-up I did have on had slid off several hours ago. On the plus side, I wouldn’t need a facial for a while.

  ‘Mum, have a top-up.’ I sloshed some more bubbly into her flute glass. ‘Mum?’

  Her eyes were glittering and huge tears threatened to break loose any second. She threw her arm round my waist and kissed my face noisily. ‘I just want to say, darling, that I’m so proud of you. The tea rooms are beautiful and it’s almost impossible to imagine this space as an old barn.’

  ‘Aww. Thanks, Mum.’ I basked in the golden glow of her praise for a second or two. ‘But everyone helped. And I couldn’t have done it without Dad’s loan.’

  ‘Where is Rusty?’ Uncle Arthur frowned. ‘Surprised he didn’t come with you.’

  Mum’s hand fluttered to her string of pearls. ‘Important meeting at the bank. Couldn’t get out of it, I’m afraid.’

  Uncle Arthur tutted and I pushed back the familiar pang of hurt. Work would always come first with Dad; it was the way he was. But he had sent me those gorgeous flowers. I leaned my head on Mum’s shoulder.

  ‘But you’re here and you can tell him all about it. I’ll give you a menu to take back to show him, and some cake.’

  ‘Which reminds me, we’ve run out of scones,’ said Auntie Sue. ‘I might make some different types tomorrow. What do you think, Freya?’

  ‘Ooh, yes, someone did ask if we’d got any without fruit in. So maybe some plain ones.’

  ‘And I’ve written the chocolate chip cookie recipe down for you, Sue.’ Tilly popped her head into the group and handed Auntie Sue a folded piece of paper. ‘Freya, can I have a word?’

  Tilly pulled me to one side. ‘I really don’t want to leave, I’ve had such a lovely time, but it’s nearly time to get my train.’

  I gave Tilly a hug. ‘Bloomin’ good job you were here to make those cookies! Trust Harry to make a grand gesture like that.’

  I rolled my eyes, but truthfully I couldn’t wait to see him in person to thank him. Maybe people would have come to our grand opening anyway, but those things he’d said about Cumbria being unique and us needing people’s support, and the way he’d described our valley with such warmth made my eyes well up every time I thought about him.

  ‘I only met him briefly but if I’d known what a hero he was I’d have sat him down and grilled him about his prospects.’ Tilly pressed her lips into a knowing smile.

  ‘He is a hero,’ I agreed, ‘and I would have liked him to come to the launch so I could thank him properly.’

  ‘Yes, such a shame about the pig.’

  Lizzie joined us, pulling the pins out of her bun. She shook her hair loose and it looked immaculate. How was that even possible? Both Tilly and I had put our hair in a bun, too. It had been our agreed ‘look’. I now had a halo of frizz all around my hairline and most of Tilly’s bun had escaped in straggly clumps at the back of her head.

  Lizzie grunted. ‘You leave the pig to me. She’s gone too far this time.’

  I snorted into my prosecco. ‘I think Tilly meant Harry’s pregnant sow, not your delightful sister.’

  T
illy nodded and burst out laughing. ‘And we were so right about Victoria. She has definitely got it really bad for Harry.’

  ‘Don’t,’ I muttered. ‘It makes me feel ill just thinking about it.’

  Lizzie and Tilly exchanged smug smiles. ‘Oh, so you admit—’ began Tilly.

  ‘Nothing,’ I finished for her, holding up a hand. ‘But he’s my friend and I want him to meet someone lovely, someone who shares his passion for the countryside, someone who looks across Lovedale valley and feels her heart soar.’

  ‘At the sliver of Lake Windermere, glinting like a sapphire in the distance?’ Lizzie quipped, tongue visibly wedged in her cheek.

  ‘Oh, bog off.’ I pressed the bottle of chilled prosecco to my face and I swear I heard it sizzle.

  ‘We are, actually.’ Lizzie grinned and flung an arm round each of us. ‘Ross is coming with me to a friend’s engagement party in Kendal. Lovely to meet you, Tilly. See you tomoz, Freya. Mwah. Mwah.’

  Noisy air kisses for both of us and she went off to round up Ross.

  ‘I’ll go and say my goodbyes, too,’ said Tilly, setting her empty glass down and making a beeline for Auntie Sue.

  I’d only had a drop of bubbly for toasting purposes as I was driving Tilly to the train station. I was scanning the table, looking for some water to top my glass up with, when Uncle Arthur appeared at my side and slipped his hand into mine.

  ‘You’ve done a marvellous job today, lass. You were born to run your own business. You’re a good leader and didn’t lose your nerve when things went a bit wobbly this morning.’

  ‘Thanks, Uncle Arthur. I think I’ve finally found my niche.’

  We shared a secret smile as Tilly came back, kissed Uncle Arthur goodbye and then the two of us set off for Oxenholme railway station.

  It was early evening by the time we arrived at the station and the light showers promised by Radio Lakeland’s jolly weatherman were looming at the edge of the horizon. I nabbed the widest spot in the car park, retrieved Tilly’s case from the back of the campervan and ran round to the passenger side to say goodbye.

  ‘You will come and visit again soon, won’t you?’ I said, hugging her tightly.

  ‘Oh, my goodness! Try stopping me.’ Tilly beamed, wide-eyed. ‘And next time I’ll bring Aidan with me. He’ll love it just as much as I do. In fact, as soon as I get on the train I’m going to call him. I really think he’d be interested in Colton Woods for his Woodland Habitats programme.’

  ‘Do! I can show him round. I used to play in those woods when I was a kid.’

  ‘With Harry?’ she said slyly.

  ‘Yes. With Harry,’ I tutted. ‘It’s full of wildlife. We used to sit and listen to owls hooting in the trees in the evening. Down the hill on other side of the woods is a little church and in the spring we used to collect bunches of bluebells and sell them to people coming out of mass for ten pence.’ I paused. ‘Actually, that was me. Harry refused.’

  ‘You see!’ She pressed a kiss to my cheek. ‘You were a budding entrepreneur even then. I’d better go.’

  ‘Have a fab time in Venice!’ I yelled through Bobby’s open window as I climbed in.

  I watched her go, dragging her little case on wheels along the pavement in the wrong direction towards platform two, which would take her to Scotland. I giggled to myself and waited. And then I watched her reappear, pink-faced and breathless, and this time head off to platform one for all trains south. Phew.

  As I started the engine my phone buzzed into life as a text message came through. I quickly looked at my phone and grinned. It was from Charlie.

  Hi Freya, hope your opening went well. Give me a call when you can. Charlie x

  Bless him, he’d remembered it was my big day. I’d call him from the farm later. I stuck the phone back on the passenger seat and manoeuvred Bobby out of the car park.

  I drove back towards Lovedale in silence. Normally I entertain myself by singing along to the radio at full volume, but today I needed some thinking time.

  The clock was ticking: I had eight weeks to come up with a plan to prevent the farm from falling into the hands of a new owner.

  Over the last couple of months I’d come up with a series of wacky ideas to make money from Appleby Farm: turning it into a campsite, renovating the shepherd’s huts, making cider and selling mistletoe at Christmas. And there were other things I could do, too, like hiring the tea rooms out as a venue for parties or developing Auntie Sue’s Jersey ice cream into a proper brand and selling it in places other than just the White Lion.

  The problem was that although the notion of running lots of different projects under one roof was my idea of heaven (I mean, seriously, I would never complain of being bored again!), I wasn’t sure whether I could pull them all together into one cohesive business.

  It started to drizzle and I switched on Bobby’s windscreen wipers, feeling a bit drizzly myself.

  And if I couldn’t come up with a sensible plan, it was hardly going to be much of a proposition for my uncle and aunt, was it? Ooh, let’s see … a buy-out offer from another farm versus a Mary Poppins handbag full of schemes from the butterfly-minded Freya.

  However exciting my business ideas were (to me at least), I couldn’t see a way for them to happen and still give Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur the financial freedom that they were after.

  Oh, sod it. My brain was aching, I’d already been awake for fourteen hours and I’d had a massive, massive day. I didn’t want to think about it any more.

  I reached for the radio button, cranked up the volume and began to belt out the words to Beyoncé’s ‘Single Ladies’.

  Although, I pondered, turning the music back down again, I could go and talk to Harry about it. He might have some bright ideas and I did want to thank him for coming to my rescue on the radio earlier. On the other hand, he still might be up to his neck with a sow in labour (yuck, now that was a picture I’d have trouble dismissing).

  Despite that, all of a sudden there was no one I wanted to see more than him. Here was me feeling all alone with no one to confide in, when the perfect confidant was literally at the end of my garden.

  I had reached Lovedale already and the turning to Willow Farm was looming. Before I had a chance to think it through properly (and if I had have thought it through I would have pulled over and at the very least given my hair a brush), my finger hit the indicator switch and Bobby was bumping slowly along the lane over the potholes towards Willow Farm.

  In a couple of minutes I would see Harry. Which was good because today I’d realized just how important he was to me.

  The way he’d leaped to my defence on air had made my heart twist with happiness. But now that I thought about it, it wasn’t just today; it was the way he remembered little things about me, like fishing for minnows in the beck and wanting a fawn for my birthday. It was the way he listened when I told him my crazy ideas and it was the way he felt the same as I did about our family farms.

  He just … got me.

  We were two peas in a pod, two halves of one whole. We shared a love of the same things in a way that Charlie and I had never done.

  All of these things brought me to a conclusion that had been gathering momentum in my heart for days, weeks, possibly even months …

  ‘I love Harry,’ I gasped, gripping the steering wheel tightly. ‘I love Harry Graythwaite!’

  I laughed out loud at myself in wonderment, relieved that the tiny niggle deep in my brain had finally worked its way to the surface. But after about twenty seconds my happiness faded.

  Obviously he didn’t feel the same way, or he’d have done something about it.

  No man would actively choose to just be mates with a girl they fancied the pants off, would they? No. They’d make a move. Or at least ask them out on a date.

  And Harry had never asked me out on a date.

  A little voice cleared its throat and reminded me that he had, in fact, taken me to Rigg Farm, and so in theory that constituted a date.

&nb
sp; I batted the voice away. That was different. It had been my birthday and anyway, it had been a trip to demonstrate farm diversification. And learning about farm diversification cannot, under any circumstances, be construed as the setting for a date.

  Even if you had fun? asked the little voice slyly.

  Even then, I retorted firmly. But regardless of my non-reciprocated feelings for him, he was the best friend a girl could have. And I would tell him as much.

  I hadn’t been to Willow Farm for years, but I remembered the layout. I had to turn off this lane into a driveway. The farmhouse sat at the end of the drive and all the farm buildings were in blocks behind the house rather than around a central yard like at Appleby Farm.

  There was a car parked up ahead on the lane and as it came into focus, my breath caught in my throat and my heart started to beat thunderously. It was Victoria’s little red sports car.

  What was she doing here?

  I stopped the campervan next to a broad oak tree and climbed out. The rain had worsened and I wished I was wearing something more substantial than a vest top. Feeling like some sort of secret spy, I hopped up the lane to the end of the drive to see if I could see anything or, more accurately, anyone.

  I inched forward, holding my breath, making sure that I stayed hidden behind a clump of trees. Eek – there they were! I jumped back and peered through the leaves.

  Harry was standing in front of the farmhouse. With Victoria bloody Moon hanging round his neck. Their noses were almost touching and he was holding his hands out at the side of her head as if he were about to scoop her face up to meet his.

  I couldn’t bear to watch.

  I clapped my hand over my mouth, ducked my head and ran back to Bobby. I jumped in and reversed all the way back down the lane.

  It was only when I reached the main road that I realized my hands were shaking. It was one thing to accept that Harry only regarded me as ‘friend material’, it was quite another to accept that those two were an item.