When she’d told Carly her plans to work at the farm she’d gasped in exasperation. ‘But a flower farm? On the Scillies? You may as well lock yourself away in Cambridge!’
‘It’s Scilly or the Isles of Scilly. Never the Scillies,’ Gaby had corrected, trying not to rise to the bait. Carly genuinely meant well, but for her, achieving a dream meant getting a flat in a smart postcode with a car and salary to match.
‘I don’t care if it’s Timbuc-bloody-tu. You’re out of your mind.’
‘I rather fancy it. I love flowers.’
‘OK. I can just about get that, but why there? Can’t you go somewhere … oh I don’t know. Exciting? Exotic? Like the Caribbean. They have lots of flowers there.’
Gaby had suppressed a sigh. ‘But I love narcissi and Tresco Abbey Gardens is on Scilly – that’s one of the most famous gardens in the world.’
‘Really? Oh Gaby, I despair.’
That made two of them, thought Gaby, knowing her sister would never understand her obsession with flowers and poetry. She didn’t even bother explaining why she’d chosen Scilly specifically because Carly would have been incredulous and disapproving to hear that Gaby had fed her addiction to gardening and countryside programmes during the long hours at the hospital. The TV had been on in Stevie’s room for some company and normality mainly, and she’d sat through endless episodes of Gardener’s World, Countryfile, Countrywise and their lookalikes.
One programme had stuck in her mind. Ironically it had been at her lowest ebb, after a moment when she’d thought she’d seen Stevie show the flicker of an eyelid, the twitch of a finger. She’d imagined the movement of course, but luckily, she’d never told her parents about it. The consultant had come and done thorough tests and said there was absolutely no brain reaction recorded at all, they were incredibly sorry … she must have dreamed it … maybe she might want to go home for some rest?
A few hours later, after Gaby had finished crying, she was half-dozing in her chair and woke to find the TV on. She saw a smiley presenter in a wax jacket tell the audience about the tiny islands where the Gulf Stream ensured the climate was so mild in the winter that subtropical plants thrived all year round and daffodils bloomed in September. The sea had been azure, the flowers and plants dazzlingly bright and the people cheerful and resilient. It felt so removed from the dim hospital room, even though it actually was on her doorstep in global terms. It was beautiful, soothing and peaceful and exactly what she wanted to do.
‘Flowers seem intended for the solace of ordinary humanity.’ John Ruskin’s words had slid into her mind after the feature had finished.
She would go to Scilly, she resolved. She would see the flowers, visit the gardens, live, breathe and work with the narcissi when this was all over …
Looking back, Gaby realised that was the moment when she accepted that it was all over for Stevie. But not for her and that he would never want her to give up or give in. Stevie had escaped the shell of his body the day he crashed the bike. She didn’t know where he was now, but her life had to go on, for her sake, for his, for her family’s …
Unlike Carly, Stevie had understood what Gaby’s idea of ‘adventure’ was. She sat on the bed and unwrapped her other treasure: her last birthday present from him: a book called 100 Gardens to See Before You Die. Since he’d gone, she hadn’t been able to open it and re-read his message inside; it was just too heartbreaking. Besides she had committed it to memory long ago.
To Gaby,
I dare you to visit them all!
Don’t dream your life, live your dreams – whatever they may be.
Love, Stevie xx
Visiting one hundred gardens might not count as a wild adventure to some people and Gaby doubted if she’d see more than a fraction but after she’d finished her contract at the farm she could make a start, helped by the money she’d earn as a picker. She’d already seen some of the UK gardens and made a list of her favourites – Versailles, Giverny, the Majorelle in Marrakech, Kenroku-en in Japan, the Desert Garden in Phoenix and Adelaide Botanical Gardens.
OK. Her first day hadn’t been that exotic so far judging by her encounter with the scowling Will Godrevy and his muddy wellies. However, it was only the first step on the journey and she had at least made it. She turned away from the window and back to her room. She heard swearing from the next room and a thud as the partition wall shook. The bedside table trembled on its beer mat prop. Then there was giggling and shortly afterwards the rhythmic bumping of headboard against wall, accompanied by grunts and groans like someone was trying to finish a marathon.
Hmm. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t much different from her college after all, only the walls were thinner here.
She’d call her parents shortly to let them know she was here and absolutely fine. She might even call Carly, if she could track her down between her high-powered job in the City, and her personal training appointments, yoga and mindfulness classes.
Gaby shouldn’t be too harsh. Throwing herself even more crazily into her job had been Carly’s way of coping with Stevie’s accident and the agonising decision that the Carter family had been faced with four weeks later. Carly had decided to leave no space or time for grieving, and Gaby had decided to run away from it.
She didn’t just have her own grief to deal with. She was worried how her parents would be able to cope with the loss of a son at only twenty-one. She phoned and Skyped them regularly and intended to go home over Christmas. In the midst of their grief, the one thing they’d been adamant about was that Carly and Gaby should get on with their lives. After Stevie had passed away, her mother and father had virtually pushed them out of the door insisting that their daughters should ‘make the most of every minute’.
Had they really meant it, thought Gaby, gazing around this strange little room on a tiny island where at least two of the inhabitants – Frosty Will and Scary Len – were hardly delighted to see her. Was flying out here to work on a flower farm ‘making the most of every minute’ or just a way to hide from pain that would resurface again at any moment? She wished she could fix her grief and sorrow as easily – and miraculously – as the water pump. She was sure things wouldn’t run so smoothly in the weeks to come, from any point of view.
Gaby’s gaze lingered on the photo of Stevie again. The only personal touch in that bare little room so far from home. It lingered that bit too long and she had to squeeze her eyes hard as the tears stung the back of them.
She mustn’t get homesick or maudlin when she’d only been here ten minutes. She wasn’t a snivelling postgraduate any more: she’d chosen to come here. Stevie would be rolling his eyes and telling her to grow a pair.
‘Everything up to scratch?’
Gaby swung round at the sound of a gruff voice.
‘Mr Godrevy. Sorry – Will. Yes, I’m just trying to find room for all my stuff.’
Was that a flicker of amusement as he took in the few possessions?
‘It’s not Buckingham Palace, but we’re planning to do up the entire staff house next season, so I hope you can manage for now,’ he said, returning to saturnine mode. ‘Not that it’s any help, since you’re only here for a short while.’
‘It’s better than a lot of places I’ve stayed in. I know I’m fortunate to get somewhere to stay on site,’ she said, surprised that he felt the need to apologise for the standard of decor. ‘And besides, I approve of recycling.’
‘Good job.’ Will took a sudden interest in the rickety bedside table with its short leg. ‘Anyway, I was passing by and I wanted to say thanks for the tip about the pump and I er … thought I’d mention if there’s anything you need, let us know and we’ll do our best. The basics we can probably do, the Earl Grey and the gluten-free sponge might take a little longer.’
Oh my God, thought Gaby, was that an actual smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners? His actually rather gorgeous eyes … His dirt-streaked jeans were still tucked into the muddy indigo Hunters and it was hard not to giggle because
Gaby thought she was one of the few people who could find a man in wellies sexy. He looked a few years older than her, his hair was tousled and his eyebrows could do with a bit of a trim, but she had a feeling he might scrub up pretty well. Very well – she could imagine him in black tie at a college ball … though he’d probably rather wear a clown outfit and stick a feather up his bottom, she thought and had to suppress an actual snort.
In fact, if he wasn’t such a sarcastic git with no charm or people skills, Will Godrevy would do nicely as a younger hot presenter of Countryfile or Gardening Today, two programmes she still secretly caught up with on iPlayer. Come to think of it, this place had better have decent wi-fi or she really would go mad. Dare she ask Will?
He glared at her.
OK. Perhaps not right now.
He gave a sort of humph that could have meant anything from ‘get lost’ to ‘hope you have a lovely stay’, shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and gave the room a glance.
‘Jess has shown you where the bathrooms are, I take it?’
‘Yes, and the kitchen and um … common room. Very practical.’
‘That’s one way of putting it. Is that your family?’ He inclined his head towards the photo.
‘Yes.’
‘Hmm.’
And? And? What the hell did ‘hmm’ mean?
‘Long way from Cambridge, aren’t we?’ he said.
Gaby’s hackles rose. ‘Three hundred and twenty miles, actually. That’s as the crow flies.’
His brow furrowed. ‘That’s not what I meant. I meant that this place is different to what you’re used to. A big change.’
‘That’s why I’m here,’ said Gaby firmly, determined not to show a moment’s weakness.
He exchanged a glance with her, very like the one they’d shared when she’d teased him about his buns. This one lasted slightly longer but had the same effect: giving her a prickly sensation that was both pleasurable and a little bit worrying.
He glanced away first though. Re-sult.
‘Right. I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, taking a strong interest in the tassels on her bedside lamp for some reason. ‘Oh. I’ve remembered the reason I wanted to pop in in the first place. I don’t know if Jess told you. Training starts tomorrow. Seven-thirty sharp at the packing shed. Len will show you the ropes and we’ll see how you shape up.’ He smiled encouragingly as if he regretted his choice of words. ‘I’m sure you’ll be OK with the right training, is what I meant. We’ll give you plenty of support.’
‘Sounds terribly exciting. I can’t wait.’ She tried to keep the edge of sarcasm out of her voice and failed miserably.
Damn Will Godrevy, how dare he come in here being nice to her – because he was trying to be nice in his own blunt way, she was convinced. Whereas she was acting defensive because she was tired and suddenly horribly afraid she had, in fact, made a huge mistake in running away to this outpost where no one gave a monkey’s that she had a PhD in poetry and only cared if she could pick a daffodil correctly.
‘Exciting?’ He gave the kind of tiny smug smile people do when they think they know some great truth about the world that you clearly don’t and wait until you do … ‘That’s one way of describing Len’s training. I expect Jess’ll be back later to see how you’re getting on and you’ll get to know everyone in the common room tonight. Enjoy yourself. See you tomorrow.’
Enjoy yourself? Gaby picked up the photo and sighed, then pushed up the corners of her mouth with her fingers. She was here. She knew what he was thinking, what they were all thinking: Grouchy Will, Scary Len, Gentle Giant Adam and even kind-hearted Jess. Despite fixing the pump, they all thought she was an airy-fairy flake and that she’d crumble within five minutes.
Gaby ran her finger over Stevie’s face. ‘And, Stevie, forgive me, but I may well do exactly that.’
Chapter 4
After showing Gaby to her room, Jess was waylaid by Len to deal with a problem with the flower refrigeration room. Adam came to help her and when it was sorted they found Will in his office, tapping away furiously at the desktop computer and muttering curses.
‘I decided to reorder some cardboard boxes because we’re running low, but the order site keeps throwing me into a loop. Every time I think I’ve cracked it, I get thrown off the site and have to do it all again. I should be down at the quay now, helping to unload a new load of packing materials. And please don’t mention it’s a bank holiday.’ He lifted his hands from the keyboard and sat back in disgust.
‘Let me take a look. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes will help,’ said Jess, bundling him off the seat. ‘Why don’t you make a coffee or something.’
Will hovered by her shoulder. ‘I don’t see how you can do any different. I’ve tried it five times.’
‘Let Jess have a go, mate,’ said Adam. ‘We’ll grab a coffee and you can tell me about the Athene. I’ve been to look at her. Do you think she’ll be ready for us at the start of the new season next spring?’
Will seemed to perk up at mention of the Athene. ‘I hope so. We need a crew for her first. We’re two women short at the moment.’
‘There’s always Jess – she can step in if we’re desperate.’
Jess glared at Will. ‘Thanks a lot! And tough because I’m already committed to the Women’s boat. You might enjoy rowing twice in a race meet, but not me. Now, do you really want this stuff ordered or shall I let you suffer?’
‘It’s your business too,’ said Will with an infuriating grin.
Adam winced. ‘Come on, mate. Let’s make a drink before she takes you at your word.’
Jess heard them discussing the progress of the Athene in the kitchenette before the hiss of the kettle drowned out the conversation. She didn’t mind a bit of teasing from Will and while he could be short-tempered and annoying, he was a loyal brother and friend. He and Adam had been mates almost since the first time Adam had set foot on St Saviour’s. Although Jess’s first encounter with him was when he’d delivered a bag of mail to the farm two summers previously, it was through Will that she’d got to know him better. As Adam had played rugby semi-professionally in his Cumbrian home town, he was soon roped in as captain of the Scilly Corsairs. Will had soon realised Adam would also be ideal rowing material and persuaded him to join the St Saviour’s Men’s crew.
The two of them had hit it off quickly and Adam had been grateful for the excuse to visit the farm to see Jess before he’d eventually asked her out. He’d confessed as much to Will, who’d rolled his eyes and complained he’d never intended to ‘play matchmaker’ and must make sure he never did it again.
Ah. Will. What on earth was Jess going to do about his love life – or lack thereof?
With his rowing in the summer and rugby in the winter, plus the farm, her brother’s life seemingly was a full one. There hadn’t been much time for relationships, although he had dated a few women over the years. The longest lasting one had been with a Belgian woman who’d come to work in the ferry office in Hugh Town. She’d decided to go back to Ghent to study, so that had been the end of that. Will had wandered around in a gloom for a week or two but soon snapped out of it when rowing season started in the spring, so Jess had suspected he wasn’t too heartbroken.
Since then, he’d managed to acquire a reputation for being an impossible catch and even though he’d had a couple of flings with temporary visitors to the islands, he didn’t seem to have fallen hard for anyone special. That wasn’t so unusual because finding a partner among a small and ever-changing community was difficult in itself, not to mention when you were very busy and tied to a business, as Jess had also discovered over the years.
Before Adam, she hadn’t had the best romantic track record herself. A couple of flings that had fizzled out; one with a doctor who’d inevitably left to further his career on the mainland, and one with a policeman: ditto.
She counted herself incredibly lucky to have met Adam. She knew that moving in to his place was on the cards and she was looking forward to
making a life together, and fingers crossed, having a family of their own one day.
And then Jess thought of her best mate, Maisie Samson. They’d been friends since their schooldays, although Maisie was a few years older. All the children from the smaller isles boarded at the high school on St Mary’s because it was too disruptive for them to constantly travel back and forth on boats every day. Maisie had taken Jess under her wing in the first year, and during the holidays when she’d returned from sixth form college on the mainland. As Jess grew up, they’d become firm friends.
Jess had supported Maisie through some dark times lately. Maisie had miscarried her previous pregnancy the Christmas before last. Far from being supportive, especially as Maisie has found it difficult to fall pregnant in the first place, her ex-boyfriend, Keegan had left very soon after, saying he couldn’t handle having children anyway. Keegan also happened to be Maisie’s boss at the brewery chain where she worked so after the trauma of losing her baby, Maisie had decided to come home to Scilly and help her parents run the Driftwood. How must she now feel, seeing her best friend, Jess, and Adam loved up? How would she react when Jess told her she would be moving in with Adam? And how would she feel when, hopefully, she and Adam had kids? Maisie would put on a brave face because she was a good friend, and Jess hoped that Maisie would find someone as sexy and just-plain-lovely as Adam, and they could all enjoy their families together. They could have their own little gig crew one day … well, you never knew. Miracles could happen.
But this wasn’t getting the cardboard ordered, and giving herself a stern talking-to, Jess refocused. Ten minutes later, she pushed away the keyboard in triumph and turned to the boys. ‘There. Done and dusted, fingers crossed.’
Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: Flower Farm Page 4
