Though he appreciated his mum’s intentions, he wished she hadn’t let him sleep in. With Jason gone, there never seemed to be enough hours in the day to get everything done. He’d have to bite the bullet and hire some extra help soon, but he couldn’t quite make himself do it yet. They had seasonal helpers at harvest time, and he hoped that between him and his mum they could make it through until then.
Taking the step to replace Jason would be a final acceptance of everything they’d lost, and he just wasn’t ready to try and work alongside someone else. They might not have seen eye to eye on everything, but he and Jason had lived and breathed lavender since they were children and knew the inner workings of the farm by heart.
Catching sight of the worry lines on his mum’s brow, Jack finished off the last of his coffee then bent to brush a quick kiss on her cheek. ‘It’s fine, Mum. You did the right thing. Thanks for the coffee, and for seeing to Noah.’
Sally took the mug from his hand. ‘Give me that. Go and have your shower. I’ll rustle you up a bacon sandwich and a thermos to take out with you, and then I’ll get Noah off to school…’ She paused by the door. ‘…Or he can stay home for a few days? I can make sure he keeps up with everything.’ The hope in her voice was enough to break his heart. She’d given up her career as a university lecturer to pursue a dream of raising her sons away from the rampant consumerism of modern life. Having missed so much of their growing up thanks to long hours spent climbing the corporate ladder, their father had been in wholehearted agreement at his wife’s decision to home-school both Jack and Jason. Their lessons had been scheduled to fit around working life on the farm and had involved as much about life as they did the curriculum.
The isolation had never bothered Jack. After being a latchkey kid, he’d been thrilled to have so much of his parents’ attention, but it had been another thorn in Jason’s side and something he’d been determined not to repeat with his own son. Feeling torn between honouring his brother’s wishes and the naked need in his mother’s eyes, Jack clenched his fist against his thigh. ‘I think it’s important to keep Noah to his regular routine, don’t you?’
She flinched as though he’d struck her, before fixing on a bright smile that failed to get anywhere near her eyes. ‘You’re right, of course. I’m just being overly sentimental. The last thing he needs is me fussing all over him.’
This was his life now, it seemed—hurting one person in order to honour his promise to another. Ignoring the stab of guilt in his heart, Jack faked his own smile. ‘You can fuss over me anytime, Mum.’
‘Get on with yourself.’ She shooed him towards the bathroom, her smile genuine this time, much to Jack’s relief.
True to her word, there was a foil-wrapped package and a thermos waiting on the kitchen table for him, together with a large water bottle, an apple and a banana. Jack finished rolling back the cuffs on the old checked shirt he’d slung over jeans and a T-shirt, then scooped up the food and drink to stow it in the rucksack he used to cart his bits and pieces around. Exiting the kitchen via the boot room, he stomped his feet into his work boots, tied the laces and headed out the back door.
Jack stowed his bag in the front of the sky-blue compact tractor parked in the yard, then pulled out the safety checklist book from beneath the seat. Their dad had been fanatical about safety, and his sons had carried on in the same tradition.
Nothing moved until it had been checked, even on days like this when Jack was running behind schedule. Satisfied the flat-bed trailer behind the tractor was hitched correctly, he circled both trailer and tractor, checking the tyres as well as the general condition of the bodywork. The engine came next—oil and fluid levels, connections, belts and hoses were all surveyed for wear. Last came the cab where everything was in order, well, once he’d cleaned the mirrors and wiped a layer of dust from the inside of the front window.
The greenhouse lay beyond the main farmhouse on the other side of the distillery, next to an old farmworker’s cottage. Jack trundled out of the yard, pausing to check the driveway in front of the house was clear before he ventured further. Their old battered Land Rover was nowhere to be seen, so the school run was already underway. Confident he could move around without risk to anyone else, Jack followed the driveway to his destination. Pulling up outside the cottage, Jack made a mental note to track down the keys for the place and have a nose around.
He and Jason had used it as a hideaway when they’d been kids, but it had been empty for a long time. His mum had talked about moving in there—said she wanted her own space away from all the testosterone in the farmhouse. Only they’d lost Jason, and she’d put her plans on hold to help Jack. Perhaps it was time for him to pick up the slack. Noah wasn’t the only one who would benefit from sticking to a routine. It was time to stop fire-fighting and accept the new status quo. The farm was his responsibility now and so was Noah. If he could get the cottage into a habitable state it would give his mum the space she craved whilst giving Jack room to breathe. He knew she only wanted what was best for them all, but if she kept making decisions about Noah without consulting him they could end up on a collision course.
A waft of warm air greeted him as he tugged open the greenhouse door. After propping it open, he dropped the tailgate of the trailer and began to transfer the first row of black plastic pots from the greenhouse. He’d taken the cuttings from the previous year’s new plants, a process they followed annually to ensure they preserved the quality and consistency of their crop. Although small now, the plants would spread and thrive within just a few short weeks, filling the air with their distinctive heady perfume.
Half an hour later the trailer was full, and so was his stomach thanks to the sandwich and a mug of hot tea. The steady work had warmed his muscles, so he paused to strip off the checked shirt before heading up to the south field. It would be a back-breaking day, and as he jolted along the trackway, he was already promising himself a long soak in the bath at the end of it.
He got the last of the plants in just as the sun was going down, his back screaming in protest as he bent over one last time to tamp down the sandy soil around the bush. With a groan, he gathered the empty plant pot and stowed it with the others in the trailer. Heaving himself into the cab of the tractor, Jack switched on the lights and chugged his way back down to the sprawl of buildings that were the heart of the farm.
Parking the tractor in the rear yard, he grabbed his bag and headed for the back door. The pots and trailer would both need washing out, but that would be a job for the morning. Bending to unlace his boots elicited another groan, and he all but hobbled into the kitchen to find his mum and Noah sitting at the kitchen table, a book held between them. The scent of something delicious rose from a large pot on the top of the Aga.
‘All finished?’ his mum asked as he paused at the sink to wash his hands.
He nodded. ‘Just about. I’ll need to take the water truck up there tomorrow, and give them a soak, but then it’s done. Have you guys eaten?’
She shook her head. ‘Noah wanted to wait for you, didn’t you, poppet?’ She stroked her grandson’s cheek as he tilted his head to glance up at Jack.
There goes my dream of a soak in the bath. ‘I’d better jump in the shower, then. Five minutes, all right?’
Sally pushed to her feet. ‘No rush, love. I need to put the bread in to warm, yet. We’re having Irish stew.’
His eyes practically rolled back in his head. Part of his parents’ back-to-nature kick had been cooking everything from scratch. No more Pot Noodles or takeaway pizzas for the Gilbert family—something else Jason had resented when they’d first moved down to the bay. Jack had pretended to be miffed in an act of brotherly solidarity, but he’d loved every meal his mum or dad had placed in front of him, even the burnt ones. ‘Sounds heavenly. I’ll be right back to set the table.’
True to his word, he was showered, changed into tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and back in the kitchen in a flash. The heat from the power shower had done wonders for
his stiff back, and he moved around freely, laying out mats, cutlery and glasses as he chatted to Noah about his day at school.
‘I got a smiley in my book today,’ his nephew said with a shy smile. He’d never had to know much about Noah’s schooling whilst Jason was around, other than pitching in with the school run, so he was still getting to grips with how it all worked.
When he cast an enquiring glance towards his mum, she said, ‘Noah stayed behind at break time to help his teacher clear up.’
‘We did painting. I put all the brushes in the big sink and put the paints in the cupboard after Miss Daniels put the lids on them.’
‘That’s great, buddy. I bet she was glad to have you help her.’ Jack held up his palm. ‘Give me five.’ Noah patted his little hand against Jack’s, practically glowing with the praise.
‘And he helped me to make dinner, didn’t you?’ his mum added.
‘Wow. I reckon all that helping out deserves a reward, don’t you?’ Jack crossed the kitchen to tug open the freezer. ‘Ah, ha! I knew we had some left.’ He turned around to show the tub of brightly striped ice cream. Neapolitan had always been his and Jason’s favourite, and they’d passed their love down to Noah. ‘What do you say, Nanna? Has Noah earned an after-dinner treat?’
Smiling fondly, Sally nodded her head. ‘I should say so! Can you give a hand with this, Jack?’
He put the ice cream back, then took the oven gloves his mum held out to him and transferred the bubbling pot of stew from the cooker top to the thick cork mat on the table. Removing the lid sent a waft of delicious steam teasing his nose. ‘This smells amazing.’ His mum took her seat with a smile and the three of them settled down to enjoy a delicious family supper. Jack glanced from his mum to his nephew, filled with love and pride for both of them. In spite of the horror of their loss, their little family was pulling together.
It would be getting busy around the place soon and he’d have even less time to spend with Noah, best to make the most of it while he could. ‘How about we walk to school tomorrow, Noah?’ Even with Noah’s shorter legs it wouldn’t be more than half an hour from the farm into Lavender Bay, and it was all downhill. The exercise would do them both good and would also give him the chance to give Noah his undivided attention. ‘If we get up a little bit earlier, we can take Bastian down to the beach to play. Would you like that?’
When Noah beamed at him, Jack knew he’d made the right call. The feeling of contentment stayed with him through Noah’s bedtime routine, Jack’s late evening walk with Bastian and on until he’d managed to read about five pages of the paperback thriller on his nightstand before his eyelids were drooping. We made it through another day, was his final sleepy thought as he turned out the light.
The screams from Noah’s room jerked him awake at 2 a.m.
Chapter Three
Libby Stone came bursting into Eliza’s old bedroom, a bottle of wine in one hand and a white carrier bag in the other. ‘I bought emergency supplies,’ she said, brandishing both. She stopped in her tracks, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed and when she spoke again, her voice was much gentler. ‘Oh, Eliza! Oh, don’t cry, darling, we’ll help you sort everything out.’ Dumping the wine and the bag on the floor at her feet, she gathered Eliza into a hug.
‘I’m okay,’ Eliza managed to say around the tears which had come on unexpectedly earlier that evening. Five weeks to the day since she’d left Martin in the airport and it felt like she’d lurched out of one rut and fallen straight into another. Her parents had welcomed her with open arms, though with more than a little concern about her snap decision. They’d danced around the subject, her mum’s comments rather more barbed than those from her dad, but accepted her request for space to sort things out. Only she hadn’t sorted anything out, just slipped into helping out in the pub, and now they were acting like she had a job for life behind the bar.
She knew how upset they’d both been at her brother Sam’s decision to pursue his dream of opening his own restaurant rather than taking over running the pub as previous generations of Barneses had, and now it seemed to be falling to Eliza by default of her return. And she didn’t want it any more than Sam had. In a fit of confusion, she’d texted Libby for help.
Another set of arms enfolded her from behind, and the soothing tones of her other best friend, Beth Reynolds, murmured against her ear. ‘Of course you are. We’ve got you now.’ Knowing it to be true, some of the desperate panic seizing Eliza’s heart eased.
She sat up a little, and her friends eased back from the embrace to look at her. Beth offered her a tissue, and the three of them laughed when Eliza blew her nose, making enough noise to put a baby elephant to shame. Libby stood up. ‘I’m going to raid the kitchen for some plates and glasses, be right back.’
Eliza heard her talking to someone on the landing, her brother, Sam, from the deepness of the tone, and sure enough he followed Libby into the room. ‘I’m not stopping,’ he said. ‘Just making a contribution to the cause.’ He held up his hands to show a chocolate fudge cake, then placed it on a free space on her dressing table. Bending at the waist, he brushed a quick kiss on Beth’s cheek and whispered something in her ear.
It had been weird for Eliza at first when Sam and Beth had started dating that spring. But seeing the way they gravitated towards each other every time they were in the same space, it was clear they were head over heels. Although Sam kept his bedroom at the pub, he spent almost all of his free time at Beth’s and Eliza doubted it would be too long before they were living together officially. Her heart twisted. As much as she adored them both and wanted nothing but their happiness, the easy way they had with each other served only to drive home how much Eliza had lost.
Returning with plates and glasses, Libby sent a mock-pout towards Sam as he straightened up from Beth’s side. ‘What about me?’ She puckered her lips at Sam, making kissing noises.
He blew her a kiss then ruffled her wild, spiky hair. ‘What are we calling this, seasick green?’
‘Mermaid, actually.’ She poked her tongue out at him. ‘Why are you still here?’
With a grin, he held his hands up in surrender as he backed towards the door. ‘I’m leaving, I’m leaving.’
The light-hearted interlude provided enough of a distraction for Eliza to calm her tears. She mopped her face dry whilst Libby removed three parcels wrapped in white paper from the carrier bag and placed each on a plate. She handed one to Eliza. ‘Small haddock and chips, and—’ she pulled a Styrofoam cup from the bag ‘—Mushy peas.’
She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but not wishing to offend her friend, Eliza tugged the paper open. Her mouth watered as the smell of hot chips and vinegar hit her nostrils, making her realise she hadn’t eaten anything beyond half a slice of toast that morning. Tipping the contents of the paper onto her plate, she dumped the pot of peas next to it and her stomach gave a rumble of approval. Libby offered her some cutlery, which she accepted with a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for this.’
Libby shrugged. ‘With the kind of staff discount I get, it’s no big deal.’ Given that Libby’s dad owned the local fish and chip shop just a few doors along the promenade from the pub, that was something of an understatement. Libby handed Eliza a glass of wine. ‘And I scored this from your mum on my way through the bar, so freebies all round.’ She clinked her glass against Eliza’s. ‘Cheers.’
Eliza returned the gesture, took a large mouthful then placed her glass on the bedside table. Silence settled over the three of them as they each began to eat. She knew they must be full of questions, but the fact they didn’t push her to talk proved once again how important the bond between them was. She should never have let Martin talk her into moving so far away.
The food in her mouth formed into a hard lump and she reached for her wine to wash it down. ‘What am I going to do?’
Beth set her knife and fork together. ‘About what?’
A bitter laugh escaped Eliza. ‘Everything. You know, I lie on this bed every
night running over the last ten years of my life and I can’t tell you what Martin’s honest opinion is about anything. I used to credit the fact we never argued as a sign of a healthy relationship, but now I realise he just said whatever he thought I wanted to hear.’ She rubbed her aching eyes. ‘If he wanted to do something, he just went ahead with it and then would make out he’d done it for our benefit. If it was something I wanted, and it didn’t interfere with his plans then he just let me get on with it.’
Their house was a prime example. Martin had found it, even gone so far as to research the mortgage payments, access to local facilities, how much money they could save compared to renting because of the cheaper cost of living—everything to make the fact he’d already accepted a job hundreds of miles from their home town seem perfectly logical. When it came to the interior, he’d given her free rein, saying she was the one with the creative streak and could use it as a template to show off her skills. She’d been so excited at the prospect, she’d planned every room down to the smallest nick-nacks, all the while believing it was Martin’s gift to her, his way of making her as happy and as settled as possible in their new environment. In reality, he’d already got what he wanted when she’d agreed to the relocation so he didn’t care whether she painted the kitchen blue, cream or flamingo pink. He’d said as much when she’d asked for his opinion, taking the sheen off her happiness in the process.
And he’d done the same thing when it came to Abu Dhabi, making her believe he was only exploring the possibilities when in reality he’d made it as far as the final interview stage before mentioning it. When he did raise it, he’d bamboozled her with stacks of information, from how much money he would make over three years, to brochures about winter cruises around the Arabian Gulf, to estimates on the monthly rent they’d get by letting their home out.
Some might call the effort he’d gone to thoughtful, but Eliza had felt powerless under the onslaught. There were so very many good reasons for them to do it, the fact she simply hadn’t wanted to go felt selfish. Though not as selfish as walking out at the last moment. Her guilty conscience had a point. Martin had only gone ahead and done those things because she hadn’t stood up to him. Not quite sure what she wanted to do with her life beyond something creative, she’d chosen a university course which covered a broad spectrum of art and design hoping to settle upon a specialty eventually. She’d dabbled in everything from pottery to dress-making and loved it all.
Summer at Lavender Bay Page 3
