‘I’m thrilled for you, you dark horse!’ I’d hugged him and he’d blushed and not even shoved me off – it must be love. ‘That explains the new boots and the ironed jeans.’
‘Yes, well, she’s made me smarten up a bit.’ He shrugged. ‘But I wasn’t going to leave Arthur in the lurch, what with his heart attack and everything. But now …’ He puffed out his cheeks and shook his head sadly.
I nudged him sharply. ‘Hey! Not that I want to stand in the way of you and your love life, obviously. But this Moorcroft,’ I tapped my own chest, ‘isn’t ready to give up on the farm just yet.’
And then he’d gripped my hand, kissed my cheek and said anything he could do to help, I only had to ask.
So when Mum and Dad began to haul enormous suitcases (rather unnervingly) out of the boot of the taxi, everyone was in a slightly better, if apprehensive, mood. The taxi drove off and Uncle Arthur and my dad walked towards each other hesitantly. I racked my brains but I couldn’t remember ever seeing them together before. I held my breath as Uncle Arthur extended a hand towards his younger brother. Dad took it and then pulled him closer and slapped him on the back.
Auntie Sue and my mum smiled at each other indulgently as they kissed each other’s cheek.
My dad looked up at the farmhouse. ‘It’s good to be back. The place looks exactly as I remember it; it hasn’t changed a bit. Our old dad would be proud of you, Arthur.’
Uncle Arthur mumbled something about that being debatable and extracted himself from Dad’s grip.
Oh, God. I felt a lump swell up in my throat and didn’t dare meet anyone’s eye. I wrapped my arms tightly round my mum’s neck instead, breathing in her familiar perfume.
‘That’s a lovely welcome,’ laughed Mum.
I shook my head gently. ‘I am so glad you’re here.’
‘Does that include me?’ said Dad.
‘Of course,’ I said, kissing his cheek and rubbing my face where his bristly moustache had tickled it.
‘Planning on moving in, are you?’ I pointed to their luggage.
He opened his mouth to answer but Auntie Sue clapped her hands. ‘Come in, come in,’ she cried. ‘Let’s not stand on ceremony.’
Ten minutes later we were all ensconced around the kitchen table with teas and coffees. Once all the ‘milk?’ and ‘pass the sugar’ pleasantries had run their course, a palpable tension, as heavy as a storm cloud, descended over us.
‘We’re leaving Paris and thinking of coming back to England,’ Mum blurted out, the first to cave in under the pressure. ‘Rusty is retiring at last. With immediate effect.’
‘Really? That’s fantastic! Where in England?’ I asked. Please say nearby. I nearly said that out loud but remembered I might not be living round here myself for much longer so I kept my mouth closed.
‘Well …’ Mum began, flashing me a nervous smile.
‘Retiring? Just like that?’ Auntie Sue’s shoulders visibly sagged. ‘Oh. We’re so jealous, aren’t we, Artie?’
Uncle Arthur grumbled something about chance would be a fine thing and slurped his tea noisily.
‘It’s not quite … I wouldn’t …’ My dad shifted in his seat as if his beige slacks were bothering him before admitting, ‘I’ve been pensioned off. The apartment comes – or should I say goes? – with the job.’
‘He’s got a golden handshake.’ Mum patted his hand gently. ‘To thank him for all his hard work.’
Dad grunted and folded his arms.
‘I’m chasing after a golden handshake myself.’ Uncle Arthur sighed, mirroring Dad’s arm-folding. ‘But it’s feeling more like a Judas kiss.’
‘Now, now, Artie.’ Auntie Sue patted his hand. ‘Your health comes first, not the farm. This place will be the death of you.’
Mum frowned at me enquiringly across the table and I grimaced and mouthed, Later.
‘Do you know, Arthur,’ Dad said, running a hand over his bald head, ‘now that I’ve left the bank, I feel like my entire life’s work has vanished into thin air. I envy you having this place. No matter what happens, Appleby Farm will always be here. I hadn’t realized until I came back how much I’ve missed it.’
I stared at him open-mouthed until Mum cleared her throat and looked pointedly at me. Well, this was new. It seemed like Dad felt the same way about the farm as I did and yet he had never ever had a good word to say about farming before now. What happened to ‘British farming is a money pit’ and ‘you start the year with nothing and you finish the year with nothing’?
Uncle Arthur scratched his chin. ‘But you couldn’t wait to get away from Appleby Farm, Rusty. And you’ve never been back since.’
I gave my dad a stern look. ‘That’s true, Dad.’
‘There was never a role for me here,’ Dad answered morosely.
He dug a clean spoon into the sugar bowl and began grinding the crystals against the side of the bowl. I recognized the habit: I did that myself. Shirley at the café had always been telling me off for it.
‘I was always the studious one,’ he added. ‘You were bigger, stronger and older than me, the one Dad always shouted for when he needed help with anything. So I left.’
Uncle Arthur shook his head slowly. ‘Mam was heartbroken after you left. You were always her favourite.’
‘Was I?’ Dad looked so dejected and my heart melted for him. And bizarrely I knew just what he meant. I’d always felt like the unwanted child; Dad had always seemed to favour Julian. Weird how history seemed to repeat itself.
‘I devoted my working life to the bank.’ Dad hesitated. ‘In fact, I devoted all my life to the bank, and now what have I got to show for it, for my life? Nothing.’
‘You’ve got me,’ I said quietly, sliding the sugar bowl out of his reach, ‘and Mum.’ Technically he had Julian, too, but I didn’t want to think about him at the moment.
Dad stared at me blankly for a moment and then tutted at himself. ‘I’m sorry. Of course I have. And I’m fully aware that I haven’t been the world’s greatest dad.’
Now I was patting his hand.
‘What I mean is … I went in on Friday to collect some paperwork and there was a new chap at my desk. No one even looked up. I’d been instantly replaced. And after making Paris our home, we get a letter informing us that we need to leave the apartment. Just like that.’ He snapped his fingers.
Mum smiled reassuringly. ‘Darling, that Paris office was tiny when you arrived. Now it’s thriving. And anyway, look on this as an opportunity. A fresh start, time together. Just think – we can have a home! Our dream home, somewhere cosy, not some fancy rented place.’
‘That’s just what I said to Artie, Margo, when the herd came down with TB. This is an opportunity!’ cried Auntie Sue.
At that moment Benny the cat jumped on to Mum’s lap and rubbed his head against her chin, as if demonstrating the benefits of a cosy home.
Dad got up from the table and stood, hands on hips, looking out at the view of the fields through the window.
‘I was so wrong about you and your dedication to the farm, Arthur. Yes, I’ve got money in the bank, but you’ve got this.’ He nodded at the outside world. ‘This is your legacy. While I’ve been absorbed in the pointless pursuit of profit, up to my eyeballs in stress, you’ve spent your life enjoying the simple pleasures, looking after the land, preserving our heritage for future generations.’
‘Stop!’ Uncle Arthur pressed his hands to his face. ‘You’re making me sick with all your airy-fairy good-life rubbish. You think you’ve cornered the market in stress? Well, you know what they say, don’t judge a man until you’ve walked a mile in his shoes.’
‘Calm down, Arthur,’ Auntie Sue pleaded. ‘Think of your blood pressure.’
Uncle Arthur growled, pushed his chair back from the table and stood up to face Dad.
‘I’ve served my time as a farmer, Rusty. And yes, I’ve loved every minute of it, but Sue and I haven’t seen the world like you.’
‘Maybe not, Arthur, but wh
en you’ve got scenery like this on your doorstep,’ Dad sighed contentedly, ‘who needs the rest of the world?’
‘I’m seventy-five and I can’t remember the last time we went on holiday,’ snapped Uncle Arthur. ‘And if I hadn’t had two heart attacks, I probably wouldn’t have had a day off this year. And although we’ve got some savings tied up, we’ve had the cash flow from hell this season. If it hadn’t been for our Freya and you bridging the gap till we sell this spring’s stock, we’d have got into even deeper debt. If you don’t think that’s stressful, you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.’
‘Now hold on a minute,’ Dad chided gently, ‘I think we’re talking at cross-purposes here.’
Uncle Arthur jabbed a finger at my dad. ‘And if my only chance at a golden handshake is to sell out to a big dairy outfit, then for once in my life I think I’m going to put us first and not the land. Pursue my own bit of profit, buy my wife her ideal home.’
‘Sell?’ gasped Mum.
There was a startled silence broken only by the sound of Uncle Arthur’s panting. This was the moment I should have spoken up, declared my beleaguered intention to prevent Appleby Farm from falling into the hands of the intensive farming company, but before I could do so Uncle Arthur straightened up and took a deep breath.
‘Yes, Margo, sell. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.’
With that he rammed his cap on his head and stormed out of the house. Auntie Sue made a mewling sound and clapped a hand over her mouth, and Mum and Dad exchanged bewildered looks.
This was awful. I had never seen my uncle so upset. Auntie Sue wasn’t much better, I thought, watching as Mum tried to comfort her. I had to do something.
I joined my dad at the window. He was stroking his moustache pensively.
‘Uncle Arthur’s not really mad with you, Dad. He’s angry at the situation he’s in. He wants to secure the farm’s future as well as his own and it’s not proving easy.’
He nodded. ‘Poor chap. He’s not had an easy year. And there’s me blundering in with my “lucky old you” attitude.’
He turned back to Auntie Sue and Mum. ‘I’m sorry, Sue. Shall I go and find him?’
Auntie Sue looked up and shook her head. ‘He’ll be having a minute with the cows; he’ll be all right. Don’t worry, it’ll blow over.’
‘In that case, Dad, can I show you the tea rooms?’
His eyes met mine and he broke into a smile, the tension easing for a moment. ‘I thought you’d never ask. Lead on.’
We walked across the yard slowly. I unlocked the big glass doors to the tea rooms – tricky with sweaty palms – and stood back to let him go in first.
I’d spent years pretending to myself that I wasn’t bothered what my dad thought about the way I lived my life. I realized now that it was a form of self-defence. Dad’s approval of the Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms meant the world to me and my heart was absolutely pounding.
I held my breath as he walked around the interior in silence, shaking his head in what I hoped was wonder rather than disappointment, stopping to peer up at the window on to the spinning gallery and shooting me looks of surprise every few seconds. He was certainly thorough: he examined the bunting, the framed wallpaper, the ice-cream counter, the chalkboard menu and even went behind the serving hatch to inspect the cups and saucers that Mum had sent me.
Come on, Dad, I’m dying here.
‘Well?’ I blurted out finally.
‘I love it,’ he stated simply and then laughed. ‘Your mother said you’d done a good job. Frankly I’m stunned.’ He shook his head again. ‘And to think I used to play in this barn when I was a boy.’
‘Phew!’ I beamed. ‘Thanks, Dad. You don’t think it’s too rustic?’ Like Victoria Moon did, I recalled bitterly.
‘No!’ he exclaimed. ‘It’s charming.’
‘Look at this.’ I darted over to fetch the visitors’ book. ‘People have left some lovely comments. It was supposed to be for suggestions, but most customers have just left compliments.’
I was fully aware that I was showing off but I’d never really had my father’s full attention before and I was revelling in it now that I had it.
‘Sit down and I’ll make you one of our special teas.’
Dad held up a hand as he took a seat at one of the tables. ‘I’m swimming in tea. Have you got anything stronger?’
There were some beers tucked into the back of the fridge left over from our opening party in August and I flipped the lids off two bottles.
‘Ah!’ Dad smacked his lips appreciatively and cast an eye over the tea rooms. ‘Do you know, you might be able to reproduce this venue elsewhere? Have you thought of opening more?’
I hadn’t. It was a damn good idea, though. ‘Do you really think so?’
He swigged his beer and nodded. ‘You could propose it to other farms.’
I shuddered. ‘It’s this farm I’m bothered about, Dad.’ Dad frowned. ‘Mmm. I couldn’t help noticing that we seemed to have walked in on a bit of an atmosphere.’
‘Understatement.’ I quirked one eyebrow.
I filled him in on what had been happening at the farm, about Julian’s relentless quest to push Uncle Arthur into selling Appleby Farm and the proposals for an intensive dairy farm.
‘Good God.’ Dad blinked at me. ‘Is Julian putting pressure on the old boy?’
I puffed out my cheeks. ‘Massively so. I think Uncle Arthur feels like if he turns down Julian’s offer, he might never get another and Auntie Sue is desperate for him to ease up and retire.’
Dad got up, walked to the glass doors and stared out at the view, just as he had in the kitchen. ‘I can’t imagine all these lovely old buildings being replaced by industrial units for the sake of profit. That would be a travesty.’
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed.
I could hardly believe it: just as the blinkers were falling from my father’s eyes about the beauty of Appleby Farm, Uncle Arthur was preparing to throw in the towel. I cleared away the empty bottles, walked over to Dad and together we left the tea rooms.
‘I know that farming has to move on. It’s an industry like any other and you can’t hold back progress, blah, blah, blah, but …’ I shrugged. ‘Surely there’s a halfway house? A way of farming that’s still true to the traditional way of doing things?’
Dad’s shoulder brushed against mine as we headed by unspoken agreement towards the orchard. It was the closest father and daughter moment we’d ever shared and my knees had gone a bit wobbly.
‘Appleby Farm means a lot to you, doesn’t it?’ said Dad.
I swallowed and nodded.
‘What would you like to happen to the farm?’ He watched me closely, waiting for an answer. He was genuinely interested in my opinion, I realized, and I felt my face heat up with pride.
‘I’ve got some ideas,’ I said, crossing my fingers behind my back and hoping he didn’t ask to hear them this instant.
We’d reached the orchard and Dad picked us an apple each from the nearest tree. I bit into mine; it was sweet and juicy and I remembered my idea of making cider. I made a mental note to look into it.
‘This retirement thing has taken me by surprise somewhat and I must confess I’m dreading it. I wonder …’ He tapped his chin. ‘How about this? If you can come up a viable plan to run the farm profitably, I’ll finance it.’
Go into business together? I hadn’t seen that one coming. Say something, Freya.
‘Coolio.’ I groaned inwardly. Coolio? Just what every businessman wants to hear.
‘Your mum and I are staying at the Gilpin Hotel this week, so we’ll have plenty of time to talk. Does that sound like a plan?’
I closed the gap between us with one step and hugged him tightly.
‘Thanks, Dad.’
Chapter 34
I was on a massive high when I waved off Mum and Dad. After leaving me in the orchard, Dad had gone off to find his brother and the two of them had disappeared to the White Lion to clear t
he air. They had returned several pints later, arms round shoulders, with a renewed respect for each other, which was so heartwarming to see.
It was going to be wonderful having them in Cumbria for the week and Mum had already promised to come and help in the tea rooms as much as she could. But what had warmed my soul more than anything was that Dad had listened to me – really listened. For the first time in my life I felt as though he saw my potential and valued my opinion, just like Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur had always done. We might never see eye to eye completely but I definitely felt closer to him already. And it felt amazing.
So amazing, in fact, that I had too much energy for my body. My brain was whirring and I was beside myself with enthusiasm to finally pin down a proper, grown-up business plan that Dad could buy in to.
I decided to saddle up Skye and take her out for a ride to clear my head. On my way to the stables I spotted a familiar figure in the orchard, halfway up a tree, trying to reach a big red apple.
‘Lizzie!’ I bowled up to her, waving my arms in the air.
‘What’s up with you, matey?’ She laughed and jumped down empty-handed. ‘Got gnats in your knickers? What’s new?’
I hugged her, noticing her jodhpurs and fleece. ‘Loads! How long have you got?’
‘Five minutes. I’m just picking an apple for me and Skye and then we’re going for a hack through the woods before it gets dark.’
‘Oh no! I was going to take her out. Please let me, Lizzie. I need to get off the farm for a bit, I’m desperate.’
She rolled her eyes playfully. ‘Go on, then. But I’m so bored. Bill has given me the night off because his daughter’s back from her gap year and she wants to work behind the bar tonight. I think she wants a permanent job, you know. So if you were still thinking about a manager for the tea rooms …?’ She eyed me hopefully before tweaking a smaller apple from a lower branch and biting into it.
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