Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: Flower Farm

by Phillipa Ashley

  ‘Staff, then. Team. I mean I’d have done the same for anyone,’ he said, still awkward. ‘Look. I didn’t have to step in. You sent him packing on your own. But I’m speaking now as a mate.’

  ‘A mate?’ Gaby was amused. Will was clearly out of his comfort zone.

  ‘Yeah. It’s your welfare I’m concerned about.’

  Will folded his arms. His biceps bulged. A hot shiver of lust shook her and she hugged herself. Why was he acting as if he cared, then trying to undercut his concern by claiming it was only an employer’s looking out for his workers? Talk about giving out mixed signals … but then, wasn’t she doing exactly the same? Will could be infuriating but she wanted him too, a lethal combination when you were trying to act cool. Emboldened by the wine she’d drunk, she took a risk.

  ‘Shall we walk a bit? I’m cold.’

  ‘Here. Have this.’

  Oh no. she hadn’t intended him to offer his jacket. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Don’t say no or I’ll be very hurt,’ said Will in a small voice.

  Despite herself, Gaby laughed and tugged the jacket around her, feeling the warmth from his body infuse into hers. They started to walk down onto the beach in front of the Driftwood, making their way between the stones and bleached wood by the last remaining twilight. She stopped and gazed out over the channel towards the twinkling lights of Petroc Island.

  ‘She walks in beauty like the night

  Of cloudless climes and starry skies …’

  The words were out of her mouth without thinking then she winced inwardly, expecting Will to snort in derision or laugh at her.

  ‘Who wrote that?’ he asked.

  Gaby glanced at him in surprise. ‘Byron.’

  ‘Right.’ He scuffed the sand with the toe of his boot and started to mutter some lines.

  ‘Full many a flower is born to blush unseen

  ‘And waste its sweetness on the desert air.’

  Gaby held her breath. Was she really on the beach, wearing Will’s jacket and listening to him quote poetry?

  ‘Or something like that,’ he muttered, hands deep in pockets again, clearly cringing with embarrassment

  ‘No. That’s perfect. I didn’t know you were into Thomas Gray,’ she said.

  He laughed. ‘I’m not! I can’t even remember the exact title. Something about a Country Churchyard. They’re the only lines of poetry I know because of the flowers.’ He stopped, scuffing the sand with his boot, a classic sign he felt ill at ease.

  ‘Did you learn it at school?’ Gaby asked gently, not wanting to discourage him.

  He snorted. ‘God no. Dad liked that poem. He read a lot and naturally anything about flowers stuck in his mind. He was – is – a cultured, thoughtful man. Too bad he saw fit to forget all his thoughtfulness and behave like a shit and leave us.’

  He started walking again, as if he wanted to leave bad memories behind.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Gaby quietly.

  ‘Yeah, it was a long time ago.’

  It might have been, thought Gaby, and despite the brave face, she guessed the memories were still raw in Will’s mind and still affecting him now.

  ‘I still don’t understand what that poem means,’ he said.

  ‘What do you think it’s about?’ she asked, feeling slightly like she was coaxing more info from a nervous undergraduate.

  ‘That there are a lot of ordinary people getting on with their daily lives in the face of all the odds. Doing things that don’t get on the news. Working at their jobs, making things, art …’ he shrugged.

  ‘Creating beauty. Like growing flowers? Heroes in their own quiet way?’ she prompted, slightly taken aback by his sensitivity. Perhaps she shouldn’t be. She’d often suspected deeper layers underlying the bluff farmer’s exterior. Perhaps he’d had to suppress such ‘softer’ thoughts to be able to make a success of a hard business.

  He laughed. ‘I don’t think that flower farming can be called heroic by any stretch of the imagination.’

  ‘No. Possibly not, but you and Jess did save the farm against the odds. You kept it going in very tough times and now you have a thriving business and employ lots of people.’

  ‘Lots is a relative term.’

  ‘Don’t hold your achievements that lightly. You both gave up a lot to keep a home and livelihood going for you and your mother.’

  He shoved his hands in his pockets as they strolled along the beach. So close but not touching. ‘It’s no more than anyone else would have done. Anyway, we had no choice.’

  ‘Then what you did is certainly heroic in its own way. I bet you missed out on a lot of stuff to stay here and run the place.’

  ‘We’re very fortunate to have a house and income to be able to stay here. I don’t feel I’ve made sacrifices compared to many. Most people from the mainland think we live in paradise.’

  ‘It is very beautiful but …’

  ‘But?’ he gave a wry smile. ‘I’m sensing a Gabriella bombshell here?’

  ‘It can be quite claustrophobic at times. I know it’s your world, but it is a very small one all the same. I should imagine that sometimes, you might like to break free and see what else is out there and not be tied to the business twenty-four seven.’

  He looked at her. ‘But I am tied to it. I’m rooted in the soil whether I want to be or not, so there’s no point wishing otherwise.’ He fell silent for a few seconds as if he was carefully considering his next words. ‘While we’re into analysing people’s motivations, what are you really doing at the flower farm? With your education and your PhD?’

  Her throat clogged with emotion. This was a moment when she might have told him about Stevie but she knew that if she let her real feelings out now she’d probably make a massive fool of herself. She didn’t know Will well enough for that. Despite the kiss and the tentative steps towards each other this evening, she couldn’t make herself that vulnerable. It was her birthday party, he was her boss and she’d had way too much wine. It wasn’t safe to open up to him, even a little bit.

  ‘I fancied a change. You must know how that feels, from what you’ve said about having no choice but to stay here and run the business.’

  He laughed bitterly. ‘Yes, perhaps I quite fancy swanning off round the world and dabbling in this and that here and there.’

  Gaby fired up. ‘Is that what you think I do? Swan off and dabble?’

  ‘Not exactly. But poetry … I’m not sure what practical use it is in terms of making a living.’

  ‘A moment ago, you seemed to be enjoying it,’ she said, annoyed by his comment.

  He smiled. ‘That might have been the beer.’

  ‘The beer?’ Gaby felt as if he’d thrown a bucket of icy water over her. ‘For a moment I thought that you might actually have a soul inside that horny-handed son of toil façade you like to cultivate, but obviously I was wrong. You know what you are sometimes, Will Godrevy?’

  He folded his arms, challenging her again. ‘I’ve a feeling that you’re going to tell me.’

  ‘You’re a – a – pig-headed boor.’

  His mouth formed an ‘o’. ‘Did you call me boring?’

  ‘No. I said boor. B-O-O-R. Although you can have it both ways if you like.’

  He folded his arms. ‘Wow. Why don’t you say what you really think?’

  ‘I just did.’ Gaby felt shaky but she wouldn’t back down, even though she was already wishing the insults back. She wasn’t sure he was genuinely annoyed but she regretted her insult. Oh, God … ‘I’m going back inside.’

  She didn’t stay to see Will’s expression and if he replied to her insult, she didn’t hear it. Even as she walked back into the pub, she was regretting her words which had touched a raw nerve. He’d had a point: Why was she really here?

  How could she ever explain that to Will when she’d never voiced her deepest fears to a living soul? That’s why she was here in a remote outpost surrounded by flowers. Not to heal herself but to run away. And, the dark monster th
at lurked in the darkest corner of her mind whispered: Stevie’s accident was partly her fault.

  Chapter 15

  The bar was much quieter now, with only a few locals lingering around, chatting to Patrick. There was no sign of Jess, or any of the other farm workers apart from Natalia who was waiting by the front door.

  The moment she spotted Gaby, Natalia knocked back the dregs of her lager and beckoned her over. ‘Where’ve you been? The boat’s here for us. Everyone’s already gone to the quay.’

  ‘Sorry. I was in the loo,’ she said hastily, not wanting anyone to know the length of time she’d spent with Will.

  ‘For so long? We need to leave.’ Natalia frowned then handed over a white cardboard box to Gaby. ‘Don’t forget the rest of your cake.’

  ‘Thanks!’ she shouted to Maisie, Hazel and Patrick, but Natalia tugged at her arm and in seconds they were hurrying through the beer garden towards the track that led to the jetty. Natalia was bubbling with excitement and giggling over being chatted up by one of the St Saviour’s locals who was twice her age.

  ‘That was a great night,’ said Natalia. ‘Good food and a good laugh. Have you had a nice time?’

  ‘Great,’ said Gaby, holding onto the cake box and trying to focus on everything that happened up until her row with Will.

  ‘And Will’s not all bad, is he?’ said Natalia as the boat came in sight.

  Gaby stumbled in her heels. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He bought all the champagne.’

  ‘What? How do you know it was him?’

  ‘I overheard Maisie and Jess talking about it … I think it was meant to be a secret but I guess it isn’t now.’ Natalia hiccupped. ‘Whoops. That was the curry. Oh, Jess is freaking out. They’ll go without us if we’re not careful. Come on.’

  She grabbed Gaby’s arm and practically dragged her towards Jess who was waving her arms and shouting: ‘Come on!’

  Gaby’s head swam as they slithered over the stones of the jetty to laughter from her waiting mates in the boat. She’d had too much to drink, but she could remember exactly what she’d said to Will. Buying champagne and knowing a bit of poetry didn’t mean he wasn’t a boor … But still. Oh, shit … she’d let him get to her and probably overreacted. She could blame the wine, of course, the wine that Will had paid for, but that would be a cop-out.

  She practically fell into the boat, to sarcastic whoops from her friends and – oh God – a stony-faced glare from Will. Damn. She’d forgotten he’d asked to hitch a ride home. She kept stealing sneaky glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking at her. Their conversation on the beach had begun so promisingly. Where had it all gone wrong? Oh wait, he’d started the path downhill with his boorish remarks about poems … She’d called him a few choice names, but they were accurate at the time and she wasn’t going to apologise.

  Anyway, she was starting to feel too queasy to worry too much about the row. She tried to keep her eyes on the horizon, but even that was moving up and down with the boat. Every few seconds, the low dark shapes of other islands would come into view, along with a flash from the lighthouse at the western edge of the isles, before disappearing as the boat rose and fell.

  She tried to distract herself by listening to a conversation that had started up about gig rowing and the Mixed team that St Saviour’s were hoping to enter in the island championships when the Athene was seaworthy. With the noise of the wind, the roar of the engine and the smack of the hull on the waves, it was conducted in shouts. Although that didn’t seem to matter after all the fizz. The cake box bumped around in her lap so she had to keep two hands on top of it and her stomach was jumping in time to the boat’s lurches.

  ‘We’re still two people short for the Mixed boat,’ Jess was telling Will. ‘Even if I do row, we only have you, Natalia and Lawrence. I heard that Petroc’s gig already has a waiting list of people who want to join.’

  ‘That’s because the resort on Petroc has dozens of staff who don’t want to let their boss down; I wish my staff had the same attitude,’ said Will. ‘I’m prepared to row in the Men’s crew as well as the Mixed, so I don’t see why we can’t find two more. I was thinking of asking Robbie; he turned up to the Men’s practice and while he’s a complete novice, he seemed keen. After all, the Mixed event is only a bit of fun.’

  Jess snorted. ‘Fun?’

  ‘What about you?’ Natalia screeched down Gaby’s ear.

  ‘What about me?’ said Gaby as the boat thumped its way over wave after wave. She hoped she could make it home without throwing up.

  ‘You could join the St Saviour’s gig crew. We need another female.’

  ‘Great idea.’ Lawrence leaned forward. ‘Gaby?’

  ‘No, I can’t row.’

  ‘Yes, but we are desperate,’ said Will.

  Under normal circumstances, Gaby would have been pissed off at Will’s comment but she felt too nauseous to care.

  ‘Gaby may be small, but she’s strong and very fit. Isn’t she, Will?’ Natalia said, teasing him.

  Gaby got her answer in before he could reply. ‘However, you’re not that desperate.’ The boat lurched again and she rescued the cake box from flying off her lap. She wished her stomach would be tamed so easily.

  ‘Oh, go on. You must have rowed in a boat when you were at Oxford. Everyone does, don’t they?’ Lawrence shouted from opposite. His fine blond hair was blowing so hard in the wind, Gaby was worried it might be ripped out.

  ‘It was Cambridge, actually. I’m not big enough to row in an Eight and if I’d been a cox in the races I’d have probably caused a massive pile-up on the river.’ Even if she’d had the courage to overcome her fear of the boat overturning, the after-race ritual of throwing the cox in the slimy river petrified her.

  ‘In that case we’re not even going to be able to raise a boat,’ Will muttered.

  ‘You’ll find someone else,’ said Gaby, standing firm. ‘Trust me, you do not want me in that boat.’

  Jess intervened. ‘Look. Gaby’s said she doesn’t want to do it, so let’s leave it at that.’

  To her enormous relief, Gaby spotted the St Saviour’s jetty ahead. The roar of the engine faded to a dull throb and the swell subsided as the jet boat nudged into the shelter of the quay. The sickly whiff of diesel made her stomach turn over, but they were back at the quay.

  Everyone started to clamber out of the rib. Feeling light-headed, Gaby’s foot slipped as she stepped off the bobbing boat in the semi-darkness. She swore and before she knew it, Will was pulling her onto the quay.

  ‘Are you OK?’ he said, letting go of her hand.

  ‘Fine. Thanks. Too much wine,’ she said, instantly regretting it when she remembered it was the wine he’d bought.

  Everyone was laughing and talking around them so she didn’t think they’d noticed her lose her footing, thankfully.

  ‘It is your birthday,’ he said. ‘By the way, Jess is right. I don’t want you to think I was forcing you to row. No one’s going to make you do anything you don’t want to, even if we might have to pull out of the race.’

  Gaby searched his face. Was he trying to make her feel guilty again or trying to apologise in his own clumsy way?

  ‘I accept that getting hot and sweaty with a bunch of us isn’t your thing,’ he added, with a glint in his eye.

  Unsure if he was teasing – or if the hot and sweaty remark was an innuendo – Gaby decided to call his bluff. Now she was safely on dry land, she felt a lot more equal to the task. ‘You don’t think I could handle that?’ she asked.

  ‘I think you could handle the hot and sweaty part but like I say, I don’t want to be accused of bullying you – or of being a boor …’

  He was the most infuriating man on the planet and a fire of anger and pride shot through her. ‘Look. As it obviously means so much to you and everyone else, I’ll have a go, but I can tell you now that you’ll regret it.’

  His lips parted and she was delighted to see she’d taken him aback. His e
yes met hers and he raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a threat or a promise?’ he said in a low, husky tone that turned her on despite her annoyance – and her still queasy stomach.

  ‘You decide, Mr Godrevy.’

  They locked horns a second longer until Jess bustled up to them, preventing Will from getting his reply in.

  ‘Are you two coming or not?’ Jess demanded.

  ‘Yes,’ said Will and a triumphant smile tilted his mouth. ‘And I have some good news. Gaby’s agreed to row, so we have a team for the championships.’

  Jess frowned. ‘I thought you didn’t want to do it? Are you sure? Will hasn’t badgered you into it, has he?’

  Gaby glared at Will. ‘Believe me, Will could never make me do anything I didn’t want to.’

  Will’s eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘As if I’d try.’

  Chapter 16

  Almost as soon as she opened her eyes the next morning, Gaby’s spat with Will flooded back to her in all its toe-curling glory. She’d called him a boor. Pig-headed might have been in there too.

  Each of those words was accurate … yet it didn’t make it right that she’d flung them at her boss. And, she now knew, he’d bought the fizz for her birthday toast. And he’d wanted that to be a secret, which was both a nice thing to do and peculiar, considering he’d been trying to avoid showing her any special attention for the past couple of weeks.

  Why had he wanted to keep his generosity under wraps? Because he didn’t want her to know he cared?

  Wow. Turning over the permutations felt like dragging a rake through her brain.

  Dringgggg.

  Ow. She reached out and bashed the cube alarm until it bounced off the table and onto the rug. It was time to get to work … unless, of course, Will had sacked her.

  She sank back onto the pillows.

  Never mind, she was sick to death of flowers anyway.

  Yeah, right. Who was she kidding? She’d never be sick of flowers or the farm. She loved working here and she loved Scilly. She liked her down-to-earth gang of mates, the glorious views and colours and scents. She liked Jess, and she still – arghhh – even ‘liked’ Will. Even though she hated him too.