by Emma Davies
Grace laid her notebook on the table. ‘A joint venture?’ she asked.
‘Possibly,’ replied Flora. ‘Joint use of the space, almost certainly.’
‘I phoned my solicitor this morning,’ said Grace. ‘And I’ll know more when I meet with him on Tuesday but, as the house is in Paul’s name, I have no automatic right to stay there. To do so may well be down to his “generosity” because otherwise any settlement I receive will be based on the value of his assets, which may mean they have to be liquified…’
‘Oh, Grace…’ Flora’s face fell.
‘However… what he did say is that if I could show I had the means to support myself and could therefore refuse ongoing maintenance, this would put me in a better position.’ Grace lifted her chin. ‘So, as far as I’m concerned, that’s what we’re going to do.’ She opened her notebook. ‘I’ve made a list too,’ she added.
‘I’ll pour us some drinks,’ said Hannah. ‘All this thinking is thirsty work.’
Amos joined them minutes later and, once they were settled, Ned cleared his throat.
‘So we already know that you want to open a guest house, Grace, with the potential for those staying to also learn some skills, perhaps in beekeeping, gardening, cookery and the like. And Flora can add floristry to that list obviously. So I guess the question is whether you have the space and facilities to do that from your house or whether some of it can take place here, alongside what Flora has in mind. The latter would certainly be more cost-effective.’
Grace pulled a face. ‘My worry with all of this is that although I like the idea of running courses, I really don’t think I’d be any good at it; working out the structure of what to teach, how to deliver it, that kind of thing. So I’m wondering whether it should be much more of a retreat-based experience rather than a learning environment. A bit more easy come, easy go. I don’t think I’m cut out for lecturing.’
Flora giggled. ‘You and me both. Can you imagine me trying to talk to a room full of people? It would disintegrate into a farce within a matter of minutes. What I would like to do, however, is open up this place to the public. I said from the start that I’d love if people could come and choose their own flowers for their events, be it weddings or otherwise. And to have a pick-your-own section too, where people could just buy what they want, when they want.’ She shot a glance at Ned. ‘On top of that, I’d really like to run a few short courses; like making seasonal flower garlands for example, or some ideas for table decorations. But nothing longer than a few hours and with no more than just a handful of people.’
Amos nodded. ‘You could even replicate some of your interior-design ideas, Grace. Like the wall-hanging you have at home or some of the smaller ones you’ve used to decorate the shop.’
Grace turned to look at Amos. ‘I didn’t think you knew about those. How did you know I’d made them?’ she asked.
Amos merely grinned. ‘You did, didn’t you?’
‘And then there’s all your artwork, Flora,’ added Ned. ‘I would love to see those on display, here in the very setting that provides most of the inspiration.’
Flora rolled her eyes. ‘Oh God, there aren’t enough hours in the day.’
‘And we’re rapidly running out of pairs of hands,’ said Hannah. ‘It isn’t just the space to run these things from, but you need people to help out too.’
‘So ideally it should all be located, if not in the same place, then at least close together so that you can man it all simply and efficiently. Otherwise you’ll be looking at employing a whole army of people just to keep folks happy and attended to.’
Fraser held up his hand. ‘I’m your man for the shop,’ he said. ‘I’m feeling better as each week goes by, but let’s not kid ourselves. It’s going to be a long time, if ever, before I can do a day’s work in the field. But I can man a shop.’ He grinned at Flora. ‘Turn on the charm, you know I’m good at that.’
Flora snorted, and Grace smiled at the easy-going relationship the young woman now shared with her father-in-law. It hadn’t always been that way, but Fraser’s heart attack had brought them all closer together.
‘Well, pardon me, who said anything about a shop?’ asked Flora, but she grinned as all eyes turned on her. ‘Okay, so we need a shop,’ she said. ‘And that would be the place where people could buy artwork from, ready-made bouquets, pay for flowers they’ve picked… and then we would also need another space where we could do demonstrations, or hold small workshops.’
Amos plucked a cherry tomato from a bowl on the table and threw it into his mouth like a sweet, grinning as he sought to contain a burst of juice from his mouth. ‘Grace,’ he managed, after a moment. ‘What kinds of people do you reckon will come and stay with you? Or let me put it another way – what kinds of people do you want to come and stay with you? Who is your advertising going to be aimed at?’
She handed him a napkin. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Explain. I know there’s a reason why you’ve asked that question… What are you thinking?’
‘Only that when I first came here, Flora nearly bit my arm off because the students she had thought were coming to help on the farm had just stood her up…’
Hannah drew in a breath, rather sharply.
‘Now I’m not suggesting we have students staying here,’ continued Amos, giving Hannah an easy smile. ‘Because, lovely though young people are, they sometimes have a bit of working out their place in the world to go through. I think what we need here are folks who know exactly what they’re about, want to indulge it, and… are more than happy to pay for it.’
‘So?’
‘So, working on the basis that you like the idea of a retreat-based holiday, why not give folks the choice? They either could opt for a completely relaxing and pampering break to do with as they please, where they pay for any workshops, et cetera, they like. Or they could choose a “get away from the rat race working holiday”, one where, in return for putting in a few hours’ help on the farm, they get the workshops, courses or whatever free as part of the package, all in a very relaxed and informal setting. Either way they pay for sumptuous accommodation and gorgeous food, so Grace gets an income, and then the farm gets either some free labour or some paying punters for its courses… or very probably both.’
‘And then Fraser hits them with his winning smile and cheeky patter and gets them to part with even more dosh in the shop,’ suggested Flora.
There was stunned silence for a moment as everyone digested what Amos had said. Fraser was blushing a little, Flora was beaming from ear to ear and Ned and Hannah were exchanging looks. And Grace? She wasn’t sure what she was feeling, except that sitting here, under the shade of the trees, with a balmy breeze ruffling the tablecloth, it felt like a little slice of heaven. And if she could feel like this, perhaps other people would too.
‘What do you think, Grace?’ asked Amos.
He was leaning towards her, his voice hinting at the excitement she knew he was feeling, but it was his eyes that made Grace feel as if there were only the two of them sitting there. They held a softness that was wholly unnerving; Grace wasn’t used to that at all.
‘Could we really do all this?’ she whispered, hardly daring to voice it out loud.
Flora laid a hand on the table. ‘Amos?’
‘We could,’ he agreed. ‘The milking shed could be split quite easily to give you the space you need… and the design, with its raised walkways, would lend itself to becoming areas for display, or to facilitate demonstrations. Reinstate its original ceiling as well and you’d have a wonderfully light and airy building.’
Grace grinned at Flora. ‘Then I think it’s absolutely the best idea I’ve ever heard. I can’t quite believe it.’
Ned reached forward to take both Grace and Flora’s hands.
‘And are you still feeling frightened?’ he asked, looking at Grace.
She shook her head decisively. ‘Not any more,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been more certain of anything.’
12
‘I just hope the bees didn’t spot my antics the other day,’ said Amos, following Grace out of the house. ‘Otherwise I think I’m in for a rather hard time. I don’t suppose they take too kindly to strangers trying to give them a bad name.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’ll have been forgiven. I like to think my bees are very good judges of character.’ She smiled, the golden afternoon sun catching her eyes as she did so. ‘And make no mistake, they’ll have spotted you, it’s their busiest time of year.’
‘So how often do you check the hives then?’ asked Amos.
‘In winter, not at all, and at other times of the year it varies depending on what I find when I open them. It’s incredibly tempting to keep checking on them, especially when you’re new to beekeeping and can see all the changes beginning to take place. But make no mistake, I need the bees much more than they need me, so the minimum necessary is what’s required. You’ll see when we open it how much it disrupts them, it’s almost like a shudder passes through the hive.’ She looked up to the sky. ‘This time of year, about once a week is a good idea, and on a day when it’s warm and still is best. Never when it’s raining, and I prefer to visit them early afternoon. Most of them will be out foraging then.’
Amos nodded. ‘And do they really have bad moods, or is that just an old wives’ tale?’
‘No, not at all,’ replied Grace. ‘They don’t like stormy weather, but there are also days when, for no reason that I can deduce, they just seem “off”. Before I knew any better, I’ve opened the hive on days like that and immediately regretted it. A bee loses its life when it stings, so to do so is a very last resort. It’s a salutary and very humbling lesson to learn that your inattentiveness or arrogance has caused their deaths.’
Amos almost stumbled as Grace’s words reached him. He had not expected such a stark reminder of his past on a day like today, with so much beauty around him, and it was all he could do to keep walking; grateful at least that he was following behind. Most people didn’t notice the tremor of emotion that ran through Amos at times, but Grace would, and he had no wish to cause her any more anguish; she’d had enough of that over recent days. He tried to concentrate on the task at hand, knowing that he needed to approach the bees with a calm stillness that right now was distinctly at odds with how he was feeling.
‘I like the way you talk about your bees,’ he said, hoping that Grace would be able to pick up the conversation again.
‘Well, I like the way you like the way I talk about my bees,’ she replied. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear the smile in her voice. ‘Not everyone gets it, or, worse, they make no attempt to understand it. Anyone who takes even just a few moments to consider what bees do for us would realise how much they deserve our respect.’
She suddenly stopped and Amos almost crashed into her back.
‘In fact,’ she continued, obviously having paused for thought. ‘That’s true for most things, isn’t it? I like to think I’m a great respecter of all living beings. Every life has value whether we consider it to be big or small, important or irrelevant. It’s certainly not for us to choose which one of those it is, they should all have equal merit.’
She turned around to face him, frowning. ‘Well, I try at least. I’m not sure I always succeed,’ she added. ‘There have been quite a few occasions when I could cheerfully have murdered my husband.’
Amos stared at her, his heart beginning to beat uncomfortably fast in his chest. He knew that her comment about Paul was a flippant one, but the conversation was becoming increasingly dangerous, straying onto subjects that he had no wish to discuss, not in Grace’s company anyway. He visited them often enough in his dreams.
He cleared his throat to try and dislodge the tight ball of anxiety there, but he really had no idea what he was going to say.
‘Amos… are you all right? You’ve gone very pale all of a sudden.’ Grace was searching his face and her scrutiny was hard to bear. She touched the back of her hand to his forehead gently. ‘And you’re boiling hot…’
He swallowed, nodding as best he could, but Grace’s words had struck at his very heart. ‘Sorry… I’m fine, just a little light-headed. I suffer from low blood pressure from time to time. It’ll pass.’ He took a few deep breaths. He hadn’t intended to lie, but his need for self-preservation overrode everything.
‘So you probably feel dizzy then? Amos, you should have said instead of letting me ramble on. We can look at the bees another time, it’s no problem. But you ought to sit down or something…’
He smiled gratefully. He’d had no idea that the conversation was going to take this turn, but did he carry on and hope that they could return to discussing safer subjects? Or put some distance between him and Grace? Although that hardly seemed fair, it wasn’t her fault he’d reacted badly. But then he thought back to the very start of their conversation.
‘Sorry, would you mind?’ he replied. ‘I’m conscious that my head isn’t in the right place to greet the bees at all, and the last thing I want is to keel over while we’re at the hive. I think another time might be better, but I was really looking forward to it. This doesn’t happen very often, don’t worry…’
She took hold of his arm gently. ‘Come on, come back inside and I’ll get you a drink.’ She gave him another appraising glance. ‘Look, there’s no easy way of saying this, so I’m just going to come out with it, okay? But, given your… circumstances… do you ever even get to see a doctor? What do you do about medication?’
Amos could have kicked himself. Given Grace’s nature he should have known she would react this way. He plastered a reassuring smile onto his face.
‘This is nothing, really. And I could go and see a doctor if I needed to, don’t worry. But, like I said, I don’t get it very often and it isn’t something I’ve ever needed to see anyone about.’ He pulled a face. ‘More self-diagnosed actually… but usually I am in extraordinarily good health.’ He pulled himself up tall and grinned.
‘And you’re not going to let on otherwise,’ added Grace, peering at him shrewdly. ‘Okay, I’m backing off… but we’re still going to have that drink.’
So Amos began to follow her again, but in the other direction. And by the time they made it back to the house he made damn sure that he was ‘feeling’ better.
‘Oh God, I feel such an idiot,’ he said, taking a seat in the kitchen as directed. ‘I feel absolutely fine now.’
Grace handed him a packet of biscuits. ‘Right, well the kettle’s on. Get a couple of those down you as well for good measure, just in case. They won’t hurt.’ She gave him another once-over. ‘You do look better actually, but the bees can wait until another day. Apart from the fact that it’s always a good idea to get in the right frame of mind whenever you approach them, I want you to enjoy the experience, not be worried about how you might be feeling. You won’t get half as much out of it if you don’t, and surely that’s why we’re doing it in the first place?’
Amos nodded, struggling to speak through a mouthful of biscuit crumbs. ‘Which brings me neatly to the other part of the equation,’ he said. ‘In that the beekeeping lessons were supposed to be in exchange for work that might need doing on the house, and I’m conscious of the fact that we haven’t even talked about that yet. Perhaps we could have a look at that today, instead. Flora isn’t expecting me back for a couple of hours, so we’ve got plenty of time.’
He chased a speck of biscuit from the corner of his mouth with his tongue. ‘In fact, it would probably help me to know what work there is to do here so that I can factor it in along with everything else.’ He grinned. ‘There’s rather more to do now than when I first arrived.’
Grace rolled her eyes. ‘Yes…’ She let the word slide out on the back of a long breath, but although it was tinged with a slight reticence, there was excitement there too. ‘My main problem would have been where to run workshops or courses from, and I was thinking I would have had to convert a space somewhere, but seeing as that problem has
been neatly solved it’s now more a case of some cosmetic tidying up. I don’t think there’s masses to do.’
‘I can’t think how there would be, Grace. You have a beautiful home.’
Aware that there was a poignancy surrounding his words, Amos got to his feet. ‘I tell you what, why don’t we have a walk round now?’
It didn’t take long; there were six bedrooms in total, but Amos had already been in five of them when the estate agent had visited. He hadn’t entered Grace’s room, preferring not to intrude on what was a very private space when she herself wasn’t present. But it was beautiful, as he had known it would be.
‘And this is my dilemma,’ said Grace. ‘I love this room, but looking at it from a purely business point of view, so will my guests. And given that it’s twice as big as the other rooms I could charge more for it as well. It makes much more sense for me to relocate to one of the other bedrooms.’
‘Which are lovely, but nowhere near as nice,’ added Amos. ‘I also think you need to bear in mind that you’ll need somewhere of your own to go to once your house is full of people. And that somewhere should be a haven, a respite from the busyness of the rest of the house. Don’t underestimate how that will make you feel – you’ve been used to being on your own, or with just the two of you, for quite some time, and having other people around is going to take a little getting used to.’
‘But I have to be practical,’ reasoned Grace. ‘And the room on the end is fine. It still has an en-suite and with a few adjustments I could make it more like what I’ve been used to.’
‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ said Amos, firmly. ‘I think that Flora would like the alterations to the milking sheds underway as soon as possible. It’s still early in the season and the earlier they capitalise on the extra space the better, but I’m sure I can fit what needs doing here around all that. We should aim to have things ready to go as soon as possible. That way when you hear that the house is safe we can swing into action.’
