Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: Flower Farm

by Phillipa Ashley

  While she sipped her chocolate and wolfed down a large slab of fruit cake, Gaby thought how much the kitchen reminded her of her family home. A blue glazed vase full of Yellow Cheer stood in the centre, mingling its fragrance with the faint tang of wood smoke from the chimney in the snug next door. Her family – oh God, she’d never got around to ringing them today. Her heart sank.

  ‘I’m going to bed now the drama’s over,’ said Jess.

  ‘There was no drama.’ Will and Gaby said the words almost at the same time.

  ‘OK. OK. But I’m still going to bed. Hopefully until morning this time.’

  ‘I’ll drink this up and turn in myself.’ Gaby took a larger gulp, burning her tongue in the process. ‘Ow.’

  ‘Don’t rush,’ said Jess with a smile. ‘We don’t want any more injuries. Goodnight.’

  ‘We won’t be long,’ said Will who had so far left his chocolate untouched. He’d kept as far away from her as possible too.

  Jess shut the door to the kitchen and Gaby heard her footsteps as she climbed the stairs to her room. Gaby could still feel the tingle of Will’s lips on hers, the strength of his solid body beneath her fingers and his hands seeking the fastener of her bra under her sweater. How had that happened?

  There were footsteps on the stairs again. Jess must be coming back down, thought Gaby, but instead, Anna swept in, in a flowery cerise dressing gown.

  She glared at Gaby but addressed herself to Will. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing, Mum. I found Gaby asleep in the field shelter and …’

  Anna shot Gaby a horrified look that froze her mug halfway to her lips. ‘Asleep in the barn? What on earth were you doing in there?’

  ‘She was trying to finish harvesting the last of the Daymarks and lost track of time. Nothing to get worked up about. You can go back to sleep.’

  Anna snorted. ‘Sleep? That’s what I was trying to do before I heard all this noise. I’m wide awake now.’

  Will’s lips twisted as he bit back his frustration and Gaby lowered her mug to the table. It was more than half full but she couldn’t stand the tension any longer. ‘I really had better go back to my room,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry for causing trouble.’

  ‘Never mind. All’s well that ends well.’ Will pushed himself off the worktop. ‘Finish your drink first. You must have got pretty cold out there,’ he said gruffly.

  She allowed herself a small smile. ‘Actually, I’ve warmed up very nicely now. Goodnight, Will.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Will, but she ignored him and got to her feet too.

  ‘Goodnight,’ she said to Anna.

  Anna nodded. ‘Goodnight. And by the way, you’ll be delighted to know that Len will be back at work in the morning. He texted me earlier.’

  ‘I’m thrilled to hear that,’ said Gaby.

  ‘I’ll see you out,’ Will muttered then turned to his mother. ‘Goodnight, Mum.’

  ‘See you in the morning,’ she said, narrowing her eyes at Gaby.

  She swept out of the kitchen but left the door open wide, presumably, thought Gaby, in case she attempted to leap on Will. Which, to be fair, she would have loved to do if he hadn’t made it so plain he wanted to keep his distance after his earlier lapse.

  ‘I’ll come with you to the staff house, in case you get lost,’ said Will once Anna had gone. It was possibly an attempt at a joke but Gaby was too tired to play nicely.

  ‘It’s OK. I know my way out. You’d better get to bed,’ she said before hurrying out of the kitchen door to grab her wellies from the porch. They were cold and damp but she struggled into them. She really needed some proper sleep but had a feeling that wasn’t going to happen while her mind was still whirling from the night’s events. Any triumph at finishing the field had evaporated: she’d convinced herself she’d been doing it for Stevie but she was now wondering if she’d also wanted to prove a point with Will – a point that he hadn’t expected or asked her to prove. And she had to be up early again tomorrow. God, why did she go off on these mad schemes?

  The security light clicked on when she was halfway across the yard. She heard the crunch of gravel behind her and seconds later Will caught up with her. He was in his wellies now and despite the hoodie, he hugged himself to keep warm in the damp night air. Perhaps it was a gesture of defensiveness too.

  Gaby held her breath, wondering if he’d had a change of heart and wanted to reignite their moment in the shelter.

  ‘Gaby. Wait. I must say this.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘We should probably forget what happened out there,’ he muttered.

  She nodded. Her heart plunged into her boots. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘It was … pretty good … but I shouldn’t have done that.’

  Her blood fired up. Only pretty good? ‘There were two of us involved, or have you forgotten?’

  ‘Yes, but even so. Things could get way too complicated if we carried on …’

  ‘They could.’

  ‘And our paths are headed in very different directions, aren’t they?’

  She was struck dumb for a few moments. He wanted her to confirm what he was thinking: almost as if he wanted her to tell him to back off.

  ‘Yes, they are.’ Her ironic smile wasn’t returned by Will. His expression was impossible to fathom. Did she see guilt that he’d even started something with her? Or regret that it had ended too soon? If Jess hadn’t come along, would they still be in the shelter, ripping each other’s clothes off? ‘Well, goodnight. Boss,’ she said and left him without glancing back.

  He was right: no matter how much she liked or lusted after him, how much fun the farm was, it was only a stepping stone on the road to her next destination. There was a life for her to live beyond Scilly eventually. Even though she loved it here, there was a whole world out there that she felt she had to live and explore, for Stevie’s sake as well as her own. It was probably best they didn’t take things any further. With Will so tied to the farm, she couldn’t imagine a place for him on her journey.

  Chapter 11

  February turned to March, the days lengthened and the fields glowed with fresh hues of orange, gold and lemon as new varieties came into bloom. Almost a month had gone by since Adam had flown out on Valentine’s Day and Jess had accepted their split was final, and that he might well be gone for good.

  To cheer her up, Maisie had asked her to lunch at their favourite restaurant overlooking Hugh Town’s harbour, so Jess wangled a few hours off to join her friend. They met up outside the clinic on St Mary’s after Maisie’s latest antenatal appointment and hurried to the restaurant under a shared umbrella as it had started to rain. Over a drink, their conversation had all been focused on how ‘Little Sprog’ was. The fact that Mother’s Day was coming up in just over a week’s time, seemed to add to the mood of anticipation of the baby’s birth. He or she was set to appear in August and Jess was delighted to talk about something other than Adam, although she knew the topic couldn’t be put off for long.

  ‘So, how are you, hun? Heard anything from him?’ Maisie asked once their starters had arrived.

  Jess toyed with a prawn in her seafood salad. ‘No, and I don’t expect to … I passed by his place the other day. He must still be paying the rent because his ancient curtains are still up in the windows and his bike was chained up under the lean-to.’ As if he intended to come back for it, thought Jess, laying her fork on the plate.

  ‘So, no sign of him moving out permanently. I don’t know how he can afford to pay the rent and live somewhere else,’ said Maisie.

  Jess knew that her friend was trying to gently hint that Adam might have moved in with someone willing to provide him with a free home. It was tough love from Maisie, but Jess couldn’t be angry. Adam must be living somewhere, and she had to face up to the fact it might not be with parents or mates.

  ‘I’m sorry for raking it – and him – up again when we’re meant to be having a lovely time. It’s none of my business, but I want you to be hap
py,’ said Maisie. ‘Bugger, that makes me sound like your mum – and mine.’

  ‘Well, you may as well get in some practice,’ said Jess and they both laughed.

  ‘True. Why don’t you have another glass of wine? It’s your day off.’

  Maisie ordered a fresh white wine for Jess and a soft drink for herself and they moved on to talk about Patrick’s plans to decorate the spare room of their cottage on Gull Island – or rather Maisie’s reluctance to make any preparations until Little Sprog was almost ready to arrive.

  Jess started to tell Maisie about Gaby falling asleep in the shelter and Will going out in his pyjamas to ‘rescue’ her. Everyone at the farm knew about it now and half the island too. Will hadn’t teased Gaby half as much as Jess might have expected, and seemed pissed off when Jess joked about him cracking the whip.

  ‘Will and Gaby have been winding each other up since she arrived last summer, though it’s never gone further than teasing, as far as I know. Of course, I wouldn’t dare ask Will directly. All I do know is that since the “shelter incident” the banter’s cooled down and they’re both trying to ignore each other.’

  ‘Any idea what actually happened in the shelter, if you know what I mean …’ said Maisie, topping up her own glass with elderflower fizz.

  ‘No idea. I interrupted them …’ Jess paused. Will and Gaby had seemed very startled, so maybe there had been something going on … ‘Will was obviously worried he might have worked her too hard. We both checked her room earlier in the evening and he seemed happy with that, but then he went out later in his pyjamas to look for her. Turns out she’d tried to pick the whole field and nodded off in the field workers’ shelter. She came back to the house for a drink after. I don’t think Mum likes her, which is a sure sign she thinks Will does.’

  ‘Any particular reason?’

  ‘Mum sees her as a threat and worries she might take Will away from the farm, though he’d never leave, of course. Gaby’s lovely, but I don’t really know why she’s working for us. But then, as you’ve discovered, this is the sort of place that attracts all kinds of people for different reasons at different times of their lives.’

  ‘You can say that again.’ They both knew Jess was referring to Patrick.

  The main courses arrived and Jess started her seafood risotto and Maisie tucked into her halloumi salad, while they chatted about the plans for Little Sprog’s arrival. With the company of her best friend and a large glass of Sauvignon, Jess started to relax. It was fantastic to see her friend so blooming. When Maisie had met Patrick last autumn, she had found it hard to trust him because of their rocky start and especially his deception over being heir to Petroc. In a dramatic night in January, Maisie had had a fall and revealed to Patrick and her family and friends that she was carrying Patrick’s child. Sadly, she’d lost one of the babies but the other twin had survived. Soon afterwards, Patrick had persuaded Maisie to give him another chance and since then they’d seemed blissfully happy, although she and Patrick were naturally anxious about the baby.

  The scans today had shown all was well with the remaining twin, and now Maisie was eighteen weeks’ pregnant. Her relief and bubbliness rubbed off on Jess, who realised that she herself felt, if not quite happy, then definitely not miserable for the first time in weeks.

  After dessert, Jess and Maisie were enjoying coffee and amaretto biscuits when a new customer walked into the café. Many of the out-of-season crowd were twitchers, toting binoculars and huge camera lenses, but Jess knew this visitor wasn’t here for the birdlife.

  He’d obviously arrived by taxi because despite the showers outside, his charcoal-coloured suit was barely touched by raindrops. He wore no tie, just a fitted white shirt, and was carrying a laptop bag over one shoulder and a rugged leather holdall with Skybus tags in the other hand. Judging by his olive skin and beautifully cut suit, the stranger was either Italian or Spanish. He was also built like something out of an aftershave ad, complete with chiselled jaw and cheekbones you could grate parmesan on.

  Jess and Maisie exchanged raised eyebrows and the waiting staff almost jostled with each other over who was going to serve him.

  Maisie dabbed her mouth with her napkin in an attempt not to giggle. ‘Who is he?’ she mouthed, her eyes widening.

  Jess shrugged and mouthed, ‘Wow,’ back, then frowned. She’d seen him before somewhere …

  ‘Italian?’ Maisie mouthed over the top of her decaf cappuccino.

  Jess raised an enquiring eyebrow and quickly took a sip of her Americano, while trying to check out the mystery man. Apparently oblivious to the stir he’d created, he selected a table near the door and scrolled through his iPhone.

  The restaurant owner whizzed over to his table. ‘Afternoon. What can I get you, sir?’

  The man put his phone down and smiled at the owner who almost melted. ‘Are you still serving the lunch menu?’

  ‘Of course, sir,’ she said. Maisie raised an eyebrow at Jess. They both knew that the restaurant normally stopped serving lunch at two.

  ‘Great. I’m starving.’

  ‘Have you just flown in?’ the owner asked. ‘I heard there were some flight disruptions so you’ve done well to get here.’

  ‘That was at Exeter. Fortunately, I flew from Newquay but I had a very early start in London to get my connection, and so I’m starving. What do you recommend?’

  ‘Hmm. Local goat’s cheese salad to start and then the half lobster?’ She practically purred at the customer. Any moment now, and she’ll be fluttering her lashes, thought Jess.

  He smiled. ‘Sounds great.’

  ‘And would you like to see the wine list, sir?’

  ‘No thanks. Mineral water will be fine.’

  Every eye in the place was on him, every ear straining. Jess knew what Maisie was thinking: that by evening, everyone would know what the ‘Italian’ had ordered for his lunch. Although he didn’t sound very Italian with that BBC urban accent.

  ‘OK. I’ll get some bread in the meantime. Can’t have you going hungry on Scilly,’ the owner trilled and swept through the door to the kitchen after throwing pointed ‘get on with it’ glances at her waiting staff.

  Maisie and Jess stretched out their coffees as long as possible in the hope of finding out more from the exotic diner. While he was waiting for his starter to arrive, he got up and headed towards the washroom.

  ‘Who is that?’ Maisie whispered once he was safely out of hearing.

  ‘No idea. He looks Italian.’

  ‘Whoever he is, he’s here for a couple of nights at least, judging by the smart bag and suit. I think I can make a wild guess where he might be staying.’ Maisie’s eyes gleamed mischievously.

  ‘Petroc?’ Jess replied. ‘It’s the most luxurious on the islands, that’s for sure. Did you notice his name?’

  ‘No, but I did see his watch. That’s a Breitling.’

  As a bar owner, Maisie was used to assessing people in a glance. Jess’s knowledge of gentleman’s timepieces was limited, but even she knew that Breitlings could cost as much as a second-hand car.

  ‘Wow. Well, in that suit and with a laptop, he can’t be a birdwatcher,’ said Jess. ‘He must be here on business at the Petroc Resort. I expect he’s here to see Hugo.’ At her mention of Hugo, who still ran Petroc despite recently finding out that his cousin, Patrick was the actual owner, a light went on in Jess’s brain. ‘Oh, hold on a moment. I thought I’d seen our mystery Italian somewhere before.’

  ‘What? You didn’t say. Where?’

  ‘At the airport last August bank holiday. I was picking Gaby up with Adam.’ Jess pulled a face. ‘That’s why I didn’t remember at first …’

  ‘Unhappy memories?’ Maisie grimaced.

  ‘You could say so … but it was definitely him. While I was looking out for Gaby in the arrivals hall, this guy was waiting by the briefing area. He’d been chatting to Hugo and I only saw him for a few seconds, but I thought he was different from the usual passengers. I’ve not heard
anyone talk about him on Scilly before so he must have made a flying visit.’

  The Italian came back, carrying his jacket over his arm. He hooked it over his chair and thanked the waitress as she laid his salad in front of him. He speared a nugget of goat’s cheese on his fork while he glanced at his phone. The cuff of his snowy shirt had pushed back to reveal a sprinkling of dark hair.

  His gesture prompted Jess to check her own phone, but they both knew that if they didn’t leave soon, she’d miss the tide for her boat trip home to St Saviour’s and even though it was officially her afternoon off, she had plenty of paperwork to do at the farm.

  ‘Argh. I’ll have to leave you very soon,’ Jess announced.

  Maisie winked. ‘Shame. Can’t you find an excuse to stay?’ she said, delving into her bag for her purse. Patrick was meeting Maisie shortly too.

  ‘No, the tide’s turning and I don’t want to have to leave the boat in the harbour and hitch a lift back.’

  ‘We could drop you on the way back to Gull if you want to hang around,’ Maisie teased.

  ‘Much as I’m enjoying the spectacle, I’d better go back because I’ve left Will holding the fort.’ Jess stole another glance at the Italian who had a forkful of rocket poised while he scrolled through his phone again. Must be something important to distract him from his lunch.

  Maisie paid the bill with her card and Jess gave her half of the bill in cash. They got up and Maisie made her way between the tables towards the door.

  ‘Oh!’Maisie stumbled and seemed to trip, throwing out a hand to steady herself on the back of the Italian’s chair. Immediately he was on his feet, holding onto her arm. His eyes – espresso brown as Jess had imagined – widened in horror when he spotted Maisie’s bump.

  ‘Are you OK? Oh God, did you trip over my bag?’

  ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Maisie. Are you OK? Did you feel faint?’ Jess asked, not afraid to interrupt where her friend’s welfare was concerned.