The Beekeeper’s Cottage: An absolutely unputdownable feel-good summer read

by Emma Davies

  She looked at the new comb she had just removed, pointing at an area lower down where the colour of the wax capping the cells was slightly darker.

  ‘See these, here? Those are brood cells, but as you can see the vast majority is capped honey. It’s all looking just as it should this time of year.’ She replaced the bar. ‘I just keep a check on the numbers of dead bees as well,’ she added, scouting the ground around the hive. ‘Bees are very tidy, and any dead bees are simply dropped outside of the hive, so to find a few each day is normal. Large numbers would indicate something’s wrong.’

  ‘So what’s killed them then?’

  Grace smiled. ‘Old age, the same as the rest of us. The worker bees born early in the season have the busiest lives. They’ve got lots of hungry mouths to feed plus new comb to build and they only live for six or seven weeks. Bees born later in the season, through into autumn, can live much longer.’

  The more Amos learnt the more fascinated he became. He was also beginning to become aware of something else, a growing feeling that was sneaking into the back of his mind, but he wasn’t ready to accept what it was just yet.

  Grace replaced the lid of the hive. ‘We’ll just check the others quickly and then, sadly, I think we’re done. Here endeth today’s lesson.’

  ‘Well it was worth waiting for,’ replied Amos. ‘Everything I hoped for and more.’

  ‘You’re a good student. I didn’t see you flinch once.’

  Amos grinned. ‘I thought about it, several times, particularly at the beginning, but then I just got lost in the whole spectacle.’

  ‘Well mind you’re on your best behaviour with this next hive. They’re not quite so even-tempered…’

  It seemed only a few minutes later that they were standing back outside the shed at the top of the garden, where Amos stood patiently as Grace swept a few last bees from his suit with a soft brush.

  ‘Can’t be too careful,’ she said. ‘Seeing as how attached they’ve been to you previously.’

  Amos watched as they flew away, and then repeated the process for Grace before helping her from her suit. The walk back up the garden had felt intensely poignant for some reason and he was wondering what to say next.

  ‘Do you need to get back?’ asked Grace, forestalling him. ‘Or have you got time for a cup of tea?’

  There was a huge amount of work still waiting for him at the farm, but he couldn’t refuse. It would have felt rude to simply rush off but Amos was only too aware that his willpower as far as Grace was concerned was definitely on the wane.

  ‘Always time for tea,’ he replied. ‘Besides, it would be good just to check where we are with everything for next weekend, so that I can make sure all the last-minute things are attended to.’

  Grace gave a sheepish smile. ‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ she admitted. ‘Only I’ve thought of something else that might need doing.’

  She took his suit from him and, folding it up with hers, stowed them back in the shed, together with her other tools. They walked back into the house side by side. With their outer layer of clothing removed Amos was suddenly very conscious that only the thin cotton of their tee shirts separated them. He took a deep breath and tried to push the thought away.

  He watched while Grace busied herself preparing the tea but, despite his best efforts, his head was still teeming with thoughts.

  ‘Grace, can I ask you something?’ He waited until she nodded, a slight smile on her face. ‘Back out by the bees you said that the honey harvest reminded you how opportunist the human race can be, how we always try to profit from a situation… Something about the way you said it made me think, and I wondered whether you were perhaps drawing comparison with yourself?’

  Grace turned from the counter, a mug in her hand, and gave a rueful smile. ‘You got me,’ she said. ‘Guilty as charged.’ It was a flippant comment, but her expression was sad. ‘And the closer I get to next weekend the worse that feeling becomes. I know I’m supposed to look on it as a trial run for when this place becomes a guest house, but I can’t shake the feeling that I shouldn’t even be doing it. I feel like I’m prostituting myself whichever way I look at it.’ She was about to say something else but then she stopped, instead holding Amos’s look, an intense expression on her face.

  Amos closed the distance between them in a moment, hugging her to him. A tight, fierce hug which took them both by surprise. Amos broke away, laughing.

  ‘Oh God, I’m so sorry! I’m not entirely sure what came over me then. It’s just—’

  But Grace was laughing too. ‘No, don’t apologise…’ She dropped her head a little. ‘It’s been a long time since anyone hugged me like that. It was rather lovely actually.’ She smiled shyly. ‘And I think, just what I needed. I’m sorry Amos, I’m in somewhat of an odd mood this morning. I’m not entirely sure why.’

  ‘Understandable,’ he replied. ‘Given what’s been going on lately, which does not under any circumstances mean that you are prostituting yourself, either. All that’s been happening is that you are planning for your future, Grace, here, where you belong. Next weekend will remove the doubt you’ve been living with for so long, and that can only be a good thing.’

  He was trying to make her feel better but, as soon as he said it, he felt something shift inside of him. Because Grace did belong here, but the very thought made him feel rootless and restless and that was something that had never concerned him before. Grace belonged, the bees belonged, but Amos didn’t belong to anything. He didn’t share his life with anyone, not really; he’d never depended on anyone, and he’d never had anyone depend on him. And he suddenly realised that he wanted those things more than at any other time of his life. And he knew why.

  17

  The house looked amazing. Even Grace couldn’t remember a time when it looked quite so lovely and, although she hadn’t really set out to achieve a particular look, everything had seemed to come together of its own accord, resulting in rooms which had their own distinct character but which also blended to give an overall impression. Somehow they had managed to bring the outside inside; the palette of colours mirroring those of the garden and, with the addition of some carefully chosen fabrics and finishing touches, every space was evocative of the summer countryside.

  They had decided on a wash of gentle white on all the walls to give a unifying finish, and Grace had found the perfect colour which reminded her of the blush of velvety rose petals. The result was stunning. Its subtle gleam gave the rooms an airy look and was the perfect backdrop for richer-coloured blooms which Grace used as decoration and on the patterned soft furnishings. Some of the heavier, more architectural prints which Paul favoured had been replaced by Flora’s botanical ones, and the bold colours and designs added to the theme rather than detracting from it.

  And the favourite of all of these rooms was the one that Grace was standing in now, her new bedroom. She had relocated to a smaller room but, by adding some clever shelving and storage, she had just as much room for her things, exactly as Amos had promised. The room felt cosy and nurturing, and – most important of all – it was hers. It was not a room she had ever shared with Paul and neither would she. Their old bedroom, a much bigger room, was now available for guests and it was here that she was intending to put Zac, the man from America who they were all hoping to impress. His two colleagues would also sleep in newly redecorated rooms and Paul, although appearances would have to be maintained, would be sleeping in a smaller room next door to hers, but separate, and that was all she cared about. Paul would almost certainly not be happy about the new arrangements but that would be his problem and not hers.

  She had thought long and hard about whether this was the right time to make all these changes, but she was conceding her house this weekend and it was the last concession for Paul she would ever be prepared to make. She couldn’t get away with much, but she could get away with this and, small victory though it was, she claimed it. Their guests and Paul would be arriving with Dominic in about t
hree hours’ time and she knew that for the next two days she would have to act her socks off and adopt a persona she despised, in order to truly set herself free. She couldn’t help wondering if the price wasn’t too high.

  Amos had seemed increasingly uneasy over the last couple of days and, although he had promised that he would be on hand over the weekend, she could tell that he was finding it tough. What she wasn’t quite so sure about was why. And as more and more time went by, Grace also realised that this was bothering her a great deal more than she thought it would, or perhaps should. But the truth of the matter was that every morning when she got up, she thought of Amos, and the same was true when she closed her eyes at night. When she wanted to share something, it was with him, when she laughed, it was because of him, and when the room was empty of people it was him she wanted to appear.

  She could hear Flora calling her from downstairs and went to join her. She would never have been able to do all that she had without her friends’ help and even though Flora had a hugely busy weekend of her own ahead of her, as did everyone else at the farm, they had all worked their socks off to get the cottage ready.

  ‘Oh, Flora…’ Grace’s hand went to her mouth as she entered the living room. Flora was carrying an enormous bowl filled with peonies, roses and sprays of eucalyptus.

  Her friend grinned in reply. ‘Where would you like this one?’ she asked. It was the fifth display of flowers that Flora had created, having arrived with Ned about an hour ago, laden with blooms of every variety.

  ‘The hallway, definitely,’ said Grace, decisively. ‘Having those colours there will give a stunning first impression of the house.’

  ‘Right you are then,’ replied Flora and beetled off.

  Grace gazed around the elegant sitting room, before moving back through into the kitchen. It looked like a florist’s shop at the moment, but the cut stems and fronds of greenery, unused flowers and vases would soon be tidied away and then the table would be set for their late supper. Simply dressed, it would provide the perfect informal setting for their meal. The night-scented stocks which stood in two huge tubs just beyond the patio doors provided ample invitation to explore the garden, and the lights which Amos was busy hanging now would add to the temptation.

  She went out to join him, smiling at the sight of his bright-red boots halfway up a ladder. She would know those feet anywhere.

  Waiting until he had finished tying off the length of wire he was holding, Grace looked across the lawn. Around its perimeter, lengths of small globe lights had been strung, looping through the trees. The light they gave was softer, more diffuse than fairy lights and, with careful placement, they seemed to disappear into the distance. Closer to home, on the patio, were two dozen jam jars, carefully hoarded over the last couple of weeks, each containing a small tea light candle. The rims of the jars were decorated with tiny sprigs of gypsophila and ribbon and, once lit, would be placed around the flagstones. Come the falling light of dusk it would look utterly enchanting.

  ‘Amos, this is going to look incredible. I can’t thank you enough.’

  He stepped off the bottom of the ladder. ‘Then all I ask is that you enjoy it.’ He smiled, a little sadly Grace thought. ‘But you’re right, it’s going to look magical. I only hope your guests appreciate the beauty that is around them.’ His eyes held hers for a moment and she thought he was going to say something else, but then his gaze dropped.

  ‘Well, there’s no guarantee of that, I’m afraid, but at least there are six of us who think it looks amazing.’ Hannah and Fraser had popped over during the afternoon to add their congratulations on how well everything had turned out.

  ‘Have you heard from Paul?’

  It was a casual enough sounding question, but Amos knew better than anyone how anxious she was. From the time Grace had first told Paul she wanted a divorce, she had only heard from him a couple of times. However, after ringing Dominic to tell him that she was agreeing to host the weekend, she had expected Paul to get in touch, but there had been nothing. It angered and saddened her in equal measure, but it also made her scared because not knowing what Paul was thinking was even worse than knowing what he was.

  She shook her head. ‘No, nothing. I just hope he isn’t planning any nasty surprises.’

  Amos touched her arm lightly. ‘I don’t think he would dare, Grace. The only one who would lose then, is him. This weekend has to go well and I’m sure he will do everything he can to make sure it does. And perhaps… well, he may be keeping out of your way to make it easier for you. Admittedly, given his track record, that doesn’t seem likely, but Dominic doesn’t sound like a fool, I’m sure he has Paul on a tight leash.’

  Grace frowned. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. I just pray I’ve done enough.’ She looked to Amos for reassurance but he was silent, looking up at the sky, a peculiar expression on his face. Perhaps he was offering up a silent prayer of his own.

  ‘Do you know what their itinerary is this evening?’ he asked. ‘Is Paul scheduled to be with them, or is he meeting them here?’

  ‘No, he’s with them, they’re all supposed to be arriving together.’

  Amos nodded, as if giving conclusion to his own thoughts rather than anything Grace had said. ‘Right, what’s next on the list of jobs to do?’

  ‘I think we’re almost there, actually. Once Flora has finished with the flowers then I need to set the table and make a few advance preparations for supper, but that’s it. And get ready of course.’ She looked down at her jeans and tee shirt and pulled a face. ‘I can’t remember the last time I wore a dress.’

  ‘No, me neither…’

  She looked up sharply to see Amos grinning at her. ‘Come on then, let’s go back inside and see if Flora needs some help.’ He held out his hand, his fingertips just brushing hers and she was relieved to see he was looking more relaxed.

  Back inside the kitchen, Flora was finishing up, collecting together the floral remnants she no longer needed. On the table in front of her were three low rectangular vases, each of them stuffed with fresh white Michaelmas daisies. No other adornment, just masses of the friendly heads, and running down the centre of the table they looked gorgeous. Grace crossed the room to give Flora a hug.

  ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you all,’ she said, suddenly threatened by a wave of emotion.

  Flora gave her a quick squeeze. ‘You’d have coped beautifully, Grace, just like you have all these years. But look at the farm, nothing happens there without us all working as a team. People are better together, it’s as simple as that.’

  ‘Hmm… as long as it’s the right people,’ murmured Grace.

  ‘Well that’s okay then,’ Flora replied firmly. ‘Because we are the right people. Isn’t that so, Amos?’

  He grinned. ‘You know I never disagree with you, Flora,’ he said. ‘Well, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I think the two of you are far better suited to adding the necessary finishing touches required, and I promised Ned I would give him a hand with the watering. I’ll catch you a little later, Grace, if that’s okay.’ He gave a little bow and sauntered back out the door, disappearing into the garden.

  Grace watched him leave. ‘Is there something a little odd about him today?’ she asked Flora.

  ‘Who, Amos?’ she replied, picking up some discarded greenery. ‘I don’t think so, why?’

  ‘I dunno.’ Grace shrugged. ‘Can’t quite put my finger on it.’

  ‘You’re just nervous,’ replied Flora. ‘After all, it could be a little awkward with him around, couldn’t it, once Paul arrives?’

  Grace stared at her. ‘Could it?’

  Flora smirked but didn’t reply. She didn’t need to – Grace knew exactly what she meant, she was just pretending she didn’t.

  Together they finished clearing up and setting the table until Flora too announced that she should get going, leaving Grace to get ready and collect herself for the evening ahead. And then, a moment later, it was just Grace left, standing in
her kitchen watching the light turn golden through the patio doors. She wrapped her arms around herself and went slowly upstairs.

  Her dress was years old, but didn’t look it, and as her figure had scarcely changed over the years, it made no difference. Besides, it always made Grace feel good. Made from shimmering silk, in a soft sage green and gently fitted, it enhanced her slender boyish shape, the colour of the fabric slightly deeper towards the hemline. With her curling grey hair left loose about her shoulders, she looked feminine and elegant.

  With ten minutes to go until everyone was due to arrive, she almost missed Amos as she came back into the kitchen. He was standing in the shadows by the patio doors, and it was only his intake of breath that gave him away. He stepped forward into the light, the sun making a golden corona around the black curls of his head.

  For some reason Grace could scarcely breathe as he came to stand in front of her. He took both her hands in his, holding them lightly in the space between them. ‘Is there anything I can do for you, Grace?’ he asked, softly.

  She closed her eyes and swallowed. ‘No.’ She faltered. ‘Do I…? Do I look all right?’ She hadn’t wanted to ask him, but her nerves got the better of her.

  He smiled, soft and slow. ‘You do,’ he said simply, holding her look.

  The hairs on the back of her neck were beginning to prickle and she realised she was holding her breath. The pressure on her fingers increased slightly.

  ‘And if you need me, I’ll be here,’ added Amos, leaning in towards her.

  Grace closed her eyes in anticipation just as the sound of a key turning in a lock came from the hallway.

  ‘Amos, wait, I—’ But he was already pulling away.

  She turned towards the front door and took a couple of steps, looking back to smile at Amos one last time, but he was already gone, slipping silently back out into the evening. She touched a hand to her lips as if she could feel him there and, blinking back sudden tears, went to greet her husband.