Appleby Farm

by Cathy Bramley

  I’d love Lizzie to work for me. She was a grafter, great with people and she already did work for me for free, but I couldn’t offer her a job. Not yet. But before I had chance to tell her about my conversation with Dad, she leaped up in the air, startling me.

  ‘Oh, Freya! I cannot believe I nearly forgot this nugget of news. Guess what.’

  ‘Spray that again,’ I said, wiping apple juice from my face.

  ‘Oops, soz!’ She giggled. ‘Victoria has got the sack from Radio Lakeland. She’s managed to get her old job back at Liver FM. God knows how. And she’s going back to Liverpool! She, of course, is claiming that her job on Radio Lakeland was only a six-month secondment and that she couldn’t wait to leave, but I heard that she got the boot after she put her foot in it good and proper with Miss Cumbria, live on air.’

  I grabbed hold of Lizzie’s hands and we did a little celebratory jig. ‘That’s fantastic! I know she’s your sister, Lizzie, but …’

  She shrugged. ‘No worries. Glad to see the back of her. Apparently she announced that after the next piece of music, the beautiful Miss Cumbria would be joining her in the studio. Then she played the track but forgot to turn off her microphone and broadcast herself declaring that Miss Cumbria had hands and feet the size of a shire horse and she wouldn’t be surprised if underneath all that make-up she was actually a man.’

  ‘I suppose she had to leave.’ I grinned. ‘She must have run out of people to insult!’

  ‘Mmm,’ Lizzie huffed. ‘I just hope people don’t think that I’m like my sister.’

  I hugged her. ‘Don’t be daft. Everyone loves you.’

  Seriously, what was it with siblings? Lizzie was warm, kind, fun and full of empathy, whereas Victoria was … not. And Julian and I? We might share DNA but that was where it began and ended. Thank goodness.

  ‘I know I shouldn’t be happy about other people’s misfortunes,’ I said, ‘but I can’t say I’ll miss her.’ A thought struck me suddenly. ‘What about Harry?’

  Lizzie paused from munching her apple and smiled. ‘I saw him last night in the village. He said he hadn’t wanted to say too much, because he likes me, obvs.’ She batted her eyelashes. ‘But apparently she was getting to be a bit of a stalker, turning up at his house and crying all over him, saying that he was the only one who understood her and she had no one else to talk to.’

  I narrowed my eyes. ‘According to Victoria, they’ve been out to dinner and I’ve seen them together with my own eyes getting very cosy on the doorstep of Willow Farm.’

  Lizzie lifted a shoulder. ‘Perhaps that was just one of the times she turned up at his house?’

  My heart skipped unexpectedly. Perhaps that was true. Maybe I’d been seeing more than there was to see?

  ‘Do you know what? If you really don’t mind me borrowing Skye, I might ride over there. Just say hi.’

  ‘Just say hi?’ Lizzie raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. ‘You fancy him, don’t you?’

  ‘No.’ Did my voice just jump an octave? I coughed discreetly and tried again. ‘He’s just … I don’t know. I need someone to bounce farmy-type ideas off and he’s a good listener. And very comforting.’

  Put like that I almost believed it myself.

  Lizzie stared at me, a smile tweaking her lips upwards. ‘Yeah, right. Apple pie is comforting,’ she pointed out. ‘If we’re talking desserts, Harry Graythwaite is more like tiramisu: dreamy and delicious, deep and dangerously potent, buff and—’

  ‘Anyway,’ I interrupted hurriedly, feeling a little hot under the collar, ‘can I take Skye? It’ll look more natural if I just turn up on a horse.’

  ‘So you do fancy him?’

  I lifted one shoulder non-committally and aimed a half-hearted kick at a fallen apple.

  ‘Nah, I don’t mind. I might make an apple pie instead,’ said Lizzie, pulling a plastic bag out of her fleece pocket. She selected a few healthy-looking windfalls off the ground. ‘Ross is home at the weekend and …’

  ‘He needs comforting?’ I finished for her.

  ‘Tiramisuuuu,’ she cooed after me as I charged off to the stables to fetch the horse.

  Willow Farm had been in the Graythwaite family even longer than Appleby Farm has been in ours. It was slightly further from the centre of Lovedale along the valley and I decided to go the cross-country route, through the fields and up and over Knots Hill.

  Harry’s dad had been a sheep farmer before he’d retired and I recalled their fields being dotted with white blobs all year round. I also remembered one fantastic snowy February school holiday when Harry and I had been allowed to stay up all up night to watch the lambs being born. We’d then bottle-fed two little rejected lambs and I’d really felt part of something special that night. Now the fields were green and blobless, and it suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t got a clue what sort of farmer Harry was.

  As Skye and I approached the farmhouse along the bridleway, I started to get a bit shivery. Not sure why, though. If anyone was going to understand my burning desire to keep Appleby Farm in the family it would be Harry.

  The path I was on led me straight through the farm buildings. I was surrounded on both sides by large open sheds, some stone and slate, and some built from new bricks with corrugated metal roofs. They were all full of cream and bluey-grey coloured cows.

  A flock of hens scattered at the sound of Skye’s hooves on the yard but apart from that there was no one about, although I could hear a dog barking inside somewhere. I climbed down off Skye, attached her reins loosely to a gatepost and looked out across the fields.

  I opened my mouth to shout hello but closed it again; the view across the valley back towards Appleby Farm completely captivated me. It was a magical sight. Low cloud either side of the valley smudged the lines of the hills, the greens and browns of the fields, the russet leaves on the trees and tiny pops of colour from distant buildings all painted the perfect autumnal scene.

  I stepped up on to the bottom bar of the wooden gate, leaned my chin on my forearms and just drank it in. Glorious.

  Skye shuffled restlessly. Without turning, I reached a hand up to her nose to calm her and my fingers touched more fingers.

  I yelped, whirled round, snatched my hand back and jumped down off the gate all within a second.

  ‘Jesus!’ I panted. ‘Where the hell did you appear from?’

  Harry’s eyes twinkled. ‘Says the girl creeping through my farmyard unannounced.’

  In his olive-green waxed jacket, jeans and tall wellingtons he looked perfectly suited to his surroundings in a hot, masculine, sexy sort of way.

  Did I just think the word ‘sexy’? I felt my face heat up.

  ‘Sorry, I should have called first. Spur-of-the-moment thing.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m only joking. It’s lovely to see you. And I didn’t mean to make you jump. You looked so peaceful there enjoying the view. I was enjoying it myself actually.’

  He chuckled and I wasn’t sure whether he meant the landscape or me standing on a gate sticking my bottom out.

  ‘I never tire of that view,’ he said, nodding towards the fields. ‘I’m a lucky man, I know.’

  Not my bottom, then. Shame. Floozy.

  I cleared my throat. ‘I was just thinking to myself how glorious it is. Fields as far as the eye can see. How long before it all gets concreted over in the name of progress?’

  Harry pretended to recoil in horror. ‘Hey, I don’t know who’s been giving us modern farmers a bad name but progress doesn’t have to be negative, you know. It’s all about finding your niche.’

  ‘Now niches, I like the sound of,’ I beamed. A niche, in fact, was what I was after myself.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you round.’ He produced a carrot out of his jacket pocket and fed it to the horse.

  ‘Wow. Cool trick. Have you got anything in there for me?’ I laughed, eyeing up his pocket.

  What am I saying?

  He gave me a sideways glance and laughed softly to himself.
‘Nothing else in here, I’m afraid,’ he said, patting down his pockets, ‘but I can show you my piglets?’

  Now everything sounded rude.

  ‘Piglets?’ I snorted.

  Harry chuckled. ‘Come on.’

  He led me through the farmyard and past the chickens.

  ‘I only keep about six hens,’ he said, ‘not like at Appleby Farm. But I like to see them pecking round the yard. A farm’s not a farm without them.’

  I told him about the hen that lays an egg in the dog kennel for Madge every day and we were both laughing when we reached a field with three large huts in it. Three fat black sows were snuffling around, surrounded by little piglets. It was difficult to be exact because they were so wriggly, but I counted at least eighteen little ones.

  ‘They’re lovely! Are any of these the ones born on the day the tea rooms opened?’ I looked sideways at him. ‘The ones you told Victoria about?’

  ‘Good memory.’ Harry nudged me in the ribs. ‘Yes, these are my Berkshire pigs. One of my niches. I’ve got a boar, too; he’s got his own sty down past the cattle.’

  I could hear the pride in his voice and had to stop myself from hugging him. He hadn’t reacted at all when I said Victoria’s name, but I still had to be sure.

  I took a breath. ‘Harry, Victoria mentioned that you went to a restaurant with her? Is that true? Were the two of you … seeing each other?’

  ‘God, no!’ He quirked his eyebrow. ‘I saw her at a restaurant opening in Kendal once. Remember my mate Tom from Rigg Farm?’

  I nodded, feeling stupid and relieved already.

  ‘He gets invited to all those sorts of things and we’ve been at a loose end in the evenings this summer so I went with him. She was there for the radio station, I think.’

  ‘Loose end?’

  One of the sows trotted over to Harry and he bent over the wall to scratch behind her ears.

  ‘Normally The Almanacs rehearse once a week and play a gig every couple of weeks but Steve, the guitarist, wanted to take a year out to enjoy fatherhood; Tom’s the lead singer.’

  ‘And you whistle along, presumably.’ I giggled.

  ‘Ha ha, very funny.’

  I watched him make a fuss of the pig and chunter to her under his breath. I grinned.

  ‘It’s a bit different to the flock of sheep your dad had,’ I said.

  ‘I’m still finding my feet, really, but I wanted to do something different. My plan is to invest in more rare breeds. A few years ago there were only a handful of Berkshires in the entire country. If they died out it would be a catastrophe.’

  ‘Well, it looks like these three girls have added to their numbers.’ I smiled.

  Harry nodded earnestly and leaned a little closer. ‘It might sound a bit soft – and I wouldn’t repeat this to my bank manager – but I feel like a guardian; not just of the land but of the livestock, too. And I’m definitely going to breed pedigree beef next year, like Arthur. As soon as his bull gets the all-clear, I’m going to make your uncle an offer for him.’

  I inhaled his scent: wax jacket, fresh air and autumn leaves. Who knew that particular combo could smell so intoxicating.

  ‘Thanks, Harry.’ I sighed. ‘I know you could buy a bull now instead of waiting for Dexter to become available. I do appreciate it, you know.’

  He shrugged. ‘Farmers help each other out; it’s the way it’s always worked. And Arthur will be glad to know his prize bull has gone to a good home.’

  You are so lovely, was what I thought, gazing up at him.

  ‘You’re like Noah,’ I said breathily, ‘looking after the animals.’

  He threw his head back and laughed. It was such a genuine, infectious laugh that I joined in, too.

  ‘Freya Moorcroft,’ he shook his head, ‘no one has ever made me smile as much as you. You’re bonkers, you know that.’

  ‘Me? Thanks. I think.’ I grinned back at him and then wrinkled my nose at the smell. ‘Can we move away now, please? I thought cow manure was bad but these bad boys stink.’

  ‘Don’t listen, pigs, I think you smell lovely,’ called Harry. ‘Let’s walk past the cattle, then, if the lady prefers cow muck.’

  We set off towards the cowsheds at a slow pace, him humming and me wondering when I should broach my plans for Appleby Farm. It was different for him, I thought. It had always been on the cards for him to be a farmer; he’d been learning what to do since he was little. I was still playing catch-up.

  ‘You’ve always known what you’ve wanted out of life, haven’t you?’ I said, breaking the silence. I had a sudden sharp image of the two of us riding in the tractor, him at the wheel, aged about twelve, telling me how he was going to be a farmer just like his dad.

  Harry nodded and smiled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners.

  I touched his arm lightly. ‘I’m glad you got your dream. I’m a tad envious, to be honest. You’ve always completely belonged here, whereas I’ve drifted from place to place, a bit rudderless.’

  Although right at this moment I felt pretty at home. With Harry.

  He stopped walking, looked down at his feet and shook his head. ‘And I envy you your freedom. You’re right. This is the life I chose, the life I wanted, and while I wouldn’t swap it for the world, I didn’t actually have any choice in the matter. Sometimes …’ He lifted his eyes to mine and I felt my heart race. ‘Well, sometimes it feels a bit small. But ever since you came back you’ve made me wonder. What if?’

  My breath caught in my throat. I held his gaze and waited. What if what?

  ‘What if I’d done some of the things you’ve done with your life – travelled the world, done all sorts of jobs, and met hundreds of people? I know that Cumbria will always be my home, but sometimes I feel trapped. Do you know, I haven’t had a holiday in five years? There never seems to be the right time or the right person to go with me.’

  ‘Oh, Harry, come travelling with me,’ I blurted.

  It was the saddest thing I’d ever heard and reminded me so much of something Uncle Arthur had said. I took a tiny step towards him, wrapped my arms round his neck and hugged him. And for a second or two he hugged me back.

  I shut my eyes and wondered, What if? What if I kiss him now? What would he do? Was I just an old mate to him, or could I be something more? My heart was thundering in my chest and being so close to him was making me feel light-headed.

  Harry took a step back, looked straight into my eyes and for one heart-stopping moment I thought he was going to kiss me. He stroked my face with the back of his finger and my stomach fluttered at his touch.

  ‘And that’s exactly it, Freya,’ he said flatly. ‘You’ll be off again soon on another adventure; the next stop on your world tour. And I’ll still be here, left behind.’

  He smiled at me sadly – sadly – which had to be a positive sign, right? Particularly as I had no intention of leaving.

  ‘Ha! Funny you should say that. I am at the start of a new adventure. But this time it’s a bit different. I’ve got plans, Harry, big plans.’ I gave him a sparkly smile but he sighed, a shadow passed across his face, and he turned away. And then suddenly he shook himself and carried on as if he hadn’t heard me.

  ‘I suppose I’m on my own adventure, too,’ he said breezily, as if the moment that was still making my heart pound hadn’t happened. He nodded in the direction of the nearest cattle shed and we began to walk again.

  ‘So you’re a beef farmer, too?’ I asked, as we came to a halt and a group of inquisitive cows started jostling for position to get a good look at us.

  ‘We finish beef here, rather than breed,’ said Harry, patting the neck of the nearest animal. ‘That means we buy in cattle and keep them for around four months until they are ready for the table. During that time each animal is individually looked after, they’re weighed regularly and their diets are designed to produce the healthiest animals possible. I’m building a good reputation.’

  ‘Good for you,’ I said, giving him my brightest sm
ile. And I was impressed; I was just more interested in the finger-face-stroking business, which had made my legs tremble.

  ‘But there’s other exciting stuff, too,’ he said, leading me back along the yard towards Skye. ‘We’re trying willow coppicing next year.’

  ‘Oh, for biofuels?’ I asked, glancing sideways at his strong profile. How glad was I that I’d started reading Uncle Arthur’s old farming magazines?

  I was rewarded by seeing Harry’s face light up and he stopped in his tracks. ‘Exactly. It’s a long-term project but I’m hoping it could be the start of something big for us. Or it would be if I could get my hands on some more land.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I still need fields to grow food for my livestock, so I’ve got limited space.’

  Oh my God. My entire body began to tingle.

  I whirled round to face him. All of a sudden my mind started to race. So this was it. This was it!

  ‘Freya?’ He stared at me intently. ‘Are you all right?’

  I started to laugh. An excited, jackpot sort of laugh. The missing piece of my puzzle was standing right here in front of me with his tousled hair, brown eyes and just the right amount of stubble to be sexy without being beardy.

  ‘Harry.’ I grabbed his hands.

  ‘Yes.’ He stared at me with a quizzical smile.

  ‘I could kiss you.’ I twinkled my eyes at him. It was a figure of speech, but deep down I really, really meant it. There was nothing I’d rather do. Fact. God knows what he was going to say to that. Poor chap.

  The smile vanished from his face and he gazed at me earnestly. ‘Go for it.’

  Which took me completely by surprise.

  Go for it.

  I inched forward, threaded my hands through his hair and pulled him towards me, arching my back to bring our bodies nearer together.

  ‘I will, then,’ I said softly.

  I stared into the eyes of the man I’d known as a boy, but there was nothing childish about his expression now. His eyes were full of a fierce emotion that stole my breath and made my heart race.

  Harry groaned. ‘Freya,’ he whispered as his arms circled my body and drew me against him.