by Alex Brown
‘Not in the house, she doesn’t – he’s coming to take a look at the two horses in the orchard. Darby and Joan.’
Harvey laughed. ‘Those two old knackers?’ He indicated with his head towards the back orchard. ‘You’d be better off sending them to the glue factory. Or what about Cooper? Molly’s other half. Can’t he take them off your hands? Horsemeat is quite something I’ve heard. Don’t they eat it in posh Parisian bistros? You never know, there might be a couple of decent rump steaks left on Darby and Joan’s respective backsides.’
April shook her head and rolled her eyes, unsure if Harvey was kidding or not.
‘Only joking!’ he then confirmed. ‘Are they really that bad? Last time I saw them over the back of the orchard by the hedgerow – I was driving past – they looked all right. A bit scruffy but not worth calling the vet out for.’
‘Well, they’re in a terrible state now. I’ve been keeping an eye on them every day. But they won’t eat any food that I offer them, and I even took some fresh carrots into the orchard, but they only shy away whenever I go near, so I’m worried. They’re practically skin and bone and covered in sores.’
‘That doesn’t sound good at all. Come on. Show me,’ Harvey said, sounding concerned now, and wasting no time, he marched off towards the stile with Oscar trotting obediently by his side. ‘And I’ll talk you through the fruit trees too – depending on the variety, they might be ready to harvest soon … you could sell the fruit to pay the extortionate vet bills that are going to be coming your way very soon.’
‘Oh, er … OK. Thank you,’ April replied, grabbing her wellies from the boot of the Beetle, kicking off the Birkenstocks and slipping her feet in, figuring it best to just dash after him. She hadn’t even considered the possibility of actually doing something with all the apples and pears … so if there was a chance of utilising the fruit to make enough money to help out with the upkeep costs of running Orchard Cottage, then she was definitely keen to give it a go. Aunt Edie would agree too, April was convinced of it: only last night, over what had become a regular routine for them now after dinner – a few rounds of rummy with a snowball or two – Edie had shared her worry over the leak in the thatched roof. A damp patch had appeared on the ceiling above the wardrobe in April’s bedroom, Winnie’s old room, and April had made the mistake of mentioning it to Edie at the time. Only to ask if it had ever appeared before, but her aunt had said definitely not … and they had both come to the conclusion that some of the thatching must have worn away and with the weather having been so warm and dry of late, it hadn’t mattered until now. But it had rained yesterday – typical temperamental British weather in summertime – and everyone knew that new roofs cost a small fortune. And April didn’t know for sure, but imagined that thatched ones were probably even more costly, requiring a specialist thatcher. But, more worryingly, April knew that her aunt most definitely didn’t have the money for a new roof, or even enough to patch it up, so she would need to come up with a plan, especially as the septic tank had already cost a small fortune to replace. And there were the potholes in the lane to think about as well …
In the orchard, and after Harvey had attempted another bottom-cupping exercise as April went to climb over the stile (she had been prepared this time and swiftly batted his hands away), he let Oscar off the lead. The Labrador darted off, his body wiggling from side to side in excitement at having the whole run of the huge orchard.
‘He’ll lead us to the horses. Sniff them out, he will. What did you say they’re called?’ Harvey asked, not even fazed by April’s rebuttal.
‘Darby and Joan.’
‘Ha-ha! Like an old married couple. God help them! Wonder how long they’ve been saddled together …’ Harvey shook his head in mock despair. ‘Get it? Saddle. Horses.’ He shrugged his shoulders and grinned at the joke.
‘Hmm, I guess so …’ April replied, looking at the still-wet grass below her wellies, then added, ‘but not all marriages are the proverbial prison sentence, you know …’
‘If you say so!’ he came back with, turning to hold April’s eye contact as she looked up. ‘Come on, let’s follow the dog.’ And Harvey actually looped April’s arm through his and practically marched her off down to the end of the first row. He was so confident and in a strange way it made April feel rather relaxed … in that she didn’t need to be in charge at this precise moment. Harvey was making all the decisions, taking the lead and leading her … literally. It was nice not to have to be the decision maker for a change. When Gray had been alive and still functioning fully they had made most decisions together – stuff to do with the home, holidays, Nancy and Freddie, as well as everyday things like what takeaway to have on a Saturday night and whether to try some new bulbs in the hanging baskets that summer, etc. But since his decline and ultimate death April had had to do it all alone, and it was draining sometimes, scary too, knowing the buck stopped solely with her now.
Harvey stopped walking and turned to look at April. He twisted a particularly rosy red apple from a nearby tree and bit into it.
‘Mmm, it’s good. Try it.’ And he moved the apple towards April’s lips.
‘Oh, um … sure.’ And once again April figured it best to just get on with it. She bit into the apple and then promptly wiped her chin with the back of her hand when the sweet juice inadvertently trickled out from the corner of her mouth as she chewed.
‘See?’ Harvey said, his eyes twinkling with enthusiasm. April nodded and chewed some more, wishing she hadn’t bitten off such an ambitious chunk. She felt self-conscious with Harvey standing so close; she could almost feel his breath on her cheek. But what was more disconcerting was that she found herself quite liking it. It was comforting. To have a man in such close proximity again. And for a split second, as she closed her eyes to blink and look away, it could have been Gray. Close. Warm. And right beside her. ‘You’re sitting on a gold mine here.’
‘Pardon?’ April said, in between chews and snapping back to the moment.
‘This lot.’ Harvey stretched an expansive arm around the orchard. ‘There’s a bumper crop here. You’ll need to get some pickers in to harvest it all, but that’s no problem – there’s a very efficient team over from Poland at the moment, at another farm I know. Reckon they’d jump at the chance to box this lot up for you before heading home. Need paying of course …’ And he handed the rest of the apple to April and walked on to another row. Pears this time. Harvey twisted one off and took a bite. ‘Perfect too! I know just the man who will rip your arm off for all this fruit.’
‘You do?’ April was intrigued.
‘Yep. He’s an organic cider producer. They go mad for it in London apparently, the hipsters. Slap “organic” on the bottle and Bob’s your uncle, he says. Ker-ching!’ They both laughed. ‘I could call him. He’ll pay you a fair price …’ Harvey finished with a flourish.
‘Yes please.’ April didn’t hesitate. She picked another pear and took a bite. ‘Mmm, organic pear cider. I bet it tastes delicious.’ And who would have thought it? Aunt Edie has an abundance of fruit, ripe for the picking, literally! And thank goodness she does, as the proceeds from the fruit will make all the difference to the running of Orchard Cottage, and ease her anxiety over the roof and suchlike too. Money worries for a lady in her nineties is just not right.
‘Sure does. I’ve tried a few complimentary bottles and it was the best cider I’ve ever tasted.’
‘Really?’ April was excited at this unexpected turn of events. ‘And if there are some apples and pears left over then I could make some jars of apple sauce. Aunt Edie used to be well known around Tindledale for it.’ She took another bite. ‘And pear chutney. Yes, I’m sure I could make pear chutney!’ she finished, really getting into it now. Maybe Kitty would be interested in some chutney for her sandwiches in The Spotted Pig café … and how about the Duck & Puddle pub? They’d be bound to get through loads of apple sauce with their Sunday roasts. And Aunt Edie was sure to have the recipe for her fabulous
apple sauce somewhere. Or maybe she’d remember it with a bit of luck, she did seem to have a knack for recalling details from far back. They could make the sauce together, just like they used to when April came to visit as a child. And it would keep her aunt occupied, stimulate her, which seemed to have an enormously positive effect. April had noticed how her aunt went downhill very quickly, seemed more forgetful and vague when she had been sitting in front of the TV for any length of time, so wanted to limit her screen hours as much as possible. No wonder some elderly people faded away when they went into a home if all they were doing was watching the telly all day long. And the same thing had almost happened to April in the first few weeks after Gray’s death, she had watched far too much TV, finding it cathartic to start with. Meditative almost. Until she became near vegetative – physically and mentally numb from inactivity. It was Nancy who made her get up and get dressed. A firefighter’s lift all the way upstairs to the bathroom with instructions to not come down until she had showered and put clean clothes on. April felt as though she had come a long way since then.
‘But hang on a minute … don’t I need to get proper certification of the apples’ and pears’ organic status?’ she asked, spotting an immediate flaw in Harvey’s ingenious plan, and her heart sank.
‘Yes, but that’s easily sorted too. You get an inspector in from the Soil Association … it’ll be fine, I can put you in touch with someone there. These trees have been here for donkey’s years. And in their natural state – no pesticides, antibiotics, genetic modification going on here, unless Old Edie has been running around with a spray gun in her spare time?’ Harvey raised his eyebrows and pulled a face. April shrugged.
‘Not that I know of,’ she grinned, her heart lifting again at the prospect of business being back on with the organic cider producer.
‘Of course not,’ he shrugged.
‘But how much will it cost to pay the pickers?’ April had no idea, but given the size of the orchard, she envisaged it being a tidy sum; what if her funds weren’t enough to cover their wages? Maybe she could get a loan or borrow some money … April’s mind went into overdrive. Not one to give up easily, she’d find a way to make it happen for her aunt.
‘Don’t worry about all that. Jimmy – he’s the cider producer – will give you a part payment up front. An advance if you like. Or he’ll send his own pickers over here.’
‘Well, this sounds like a wonderful way to do business. Thank you very much,’ April said, feeling very thrilled indeed. Focused and raring to get to work. Turning Aunt Edie’s orchards back into a working fruit farm felt like just the thing April needed to utilise her time and indeed her thoughts during the day, and then she could spend her evenings trying to figure out what had happened to Winnie while making sure Edie was happy and looked after. Yes, coming to Tindledale was a tonic, the most perfect recipe to help move her grief for Gray on to a different place in her head and her heart. ‘You’re very kind.’
‘Ahh, call it an apology.’
‘Apology?’ April creased her forehead.
‘You know, that naughty business when you first got here … I shouldn’t have called you a criminal. Not a very nice welcome to our lovely little village of Tindledale now, is it?’ He tilted his head to one side and grinned.
‘Oh, it’s fine. And funny come to think of it now.’ April waved a dismissive hand in the air. ‘And it’s not my first time here in Tindledale, I spent many happy holidays here as a child.’
‘Did you?’ Harvey frowned.
‘Yes, that’s right. Most summers, until I went off to nursing school in London.’
‘So you’re a proper nurse, eh?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’
‘With a little white uniform and all?’ he asked cheekily.
‘Stop it!’ April quickly told him off. ‘You’re incorrigible, Harvey,’ she laughed.
‘Sorry, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.’ He shrugged and then changed tack. ‘So how come we’ve not met before now?’
‘I don’t know. Have you always lived in Tindledale?’ April asked.
‘Ah, that will be why our paths have never crossed … I only bought the fruit farm about fifteen years ago. Makes me a relative newcomer compared to the other villagers …’
‘Ha-ha, yes! I know exactly what you mean. Don’t you have to live here for a hundred years or so, and your grandparents before you, to be officially confirmed as a proper Tindledale villager?’ April laughed.
‘Yep, something like that.’ He shook his head and grinned. ‘So why did you stop coming to Tindledale? I’ve not ever seen you here and I know I would remember spotting you in the High Street or in the pub.’ He winked and April shook her head, finding herself enjoying his harmless flirtation.
‘Well, I did still visit my aunt when I could, and I wrote to her regularly, and then … well, I guess life took over.’ April busied herself with picking a leaf from a nearby tree and studying it. She knew full well what Harvey was really asking, but she had chosen to omit the part about Gray being ill and circumstances making it more difficult to come to Tindledale. It was nice though, to feel normal, to not have to explain, or to talk about death and grief and all the sad stuff. Surely there was nothing wrong with wanting to move on from that? If only for the pocket of time she was spending with Harvey today. He was a new friend, admittedly one that wanted their friendship to be more, but for now, April was enjoying being ‘just April, the nurse visiting her elderly aunt’ and not ‘April, you know (nudge nudge) … the one whose husband died of motor neurone disease, poor cow, and so young he was too, barely fifty, that’s no age at all’, as she had overheard one time on her way out of the library when she went to return Gray’s books shortly after his death – he’d been two-thirds of the way through reading one of them when he died. The poignancy of Gray never knowing the book’s ending had made April sob in bed, alone, for most of the previous night. And then again the following afternoon in the safety of her Beetle when she had made it back to the car park after that awful trip to the library.
April folded the leaf in half before absent-mindedly slipping it into her jeans pocket and shook her hair back as if to clear her mind.
‘To be honest, Harvey, I’m actually pleased that you did apprehend me …’ she said. ‘It’s nice to know my aunt has neighbours that actually care. Where I come from, I’m not entirely sure anyone would bat an eyelid if they had seen me trying to smash a window with a mud-covered Birkenstock that could very easily have been mistaken for a brick.’
‘Blimey!’ Harvey shook his head and pulled a face of disbelief.
And they carried on walking.
As they turned at the end of the row and walked down in between the next row of apple trees, Oscar came bounding back to them with what looked like a green baseball cap in his mouth.
‘Hold up!’ Harvey stopped striding and let go of April’s arm. ‘Stay there,’ he quickly instructed, taking a step forward and sticking a chivalrous arm out in front of April as if to protect her. ‘I’ll deal with this.’
‘What is it?’ she asked, ignoring his command and stepping forward too.
‘Nothing for you to worry about …’
‘Oh don’t be daft. Tell me … it can’t be that bad,’ she said, tactfully removing his arm. Just because she had relaxed for a brief moment and let him take charge, and enjoyed doing so, it didn’t mean she was now a feeble damsel and couldn’t look after herself.
‘Well, all right then … there might be someone here. A poacher or something. Bloody typical I didn’t bring my shotgun with me …’ he said, picking up the hat after ordering Oscar to drop it.
‘But you can’t just shoot them!’
‘True!’ Harvey had his hands on his hips now and an outraged look on his face. ‘But I can give them a blooming good scare. Flaming trespassers! In fact, I bet it’s a rambler. Or one of those fake new-age hippy types with their pretend dreadlocks and rainbow-coloured jackets made from hemp seed or whatever.’
‘What do you mean fake?’ April tried not to smile.
‘You know, aristocrats who try to live in trees and shit,’ Harvey puffed, ‘they’re the worst with their “right of way” bollocks.’ He did sarcastic quote signs in the air and pulled a face. ‘Don’t want to know though when it comes to forking out to fix broken gates or clear fallen trees from the public footpaths, oh no! But somebody has to pay for all that. Muggins, that’s who, as the council rarely coughs up.’ April swiftly looked away so he wouldn’t see her desperately trying not to laugh. He really was a ‘wade in first and think later’ kind of guy, and set in his ways, and it was amusing … She could tell that he wasn’t really angry, just disgruntled, which made it even more comical as he went to storm off in search of the poor ramblers with the rainbow-coloured jackets. April had always thought they looked rather cheerful. ‘Come on, let’s find ’em.’
April went after him, figuring she may need to step in to defuse the situation if he got too irate.
‘How are we going to do that?’ she called out, already lagging behind. Harvey sure could walk fast.
‘By sniffing them out of course.’ He pointed to Oscar who was spinning round in circles with excited anticipation just waiting for the ‘find’ command. Harvey stopped walking. He bent down and held the hat at Oscar’s nose. The dog nudged his nose into it, drawing in the scent, while all the time listening for Harvey to click his fingers to signify the start of the search. When it came, Oscar shot off at full pelt and Harvey immediately ran after him, with April doing her best to bring up the rear.
Half a mile later, or so it seemed, of weaving in and out of the rows of trees, April felt as though her chest might burst open from sheer exertion. She really did need to get back to the gym – she hadn’t been in over a year and it most definitely showed. She could barely breathe and there was a stinging stitch-like pain in her left side, which never would have happened when she was doing regular Pilates and spin classes. She made a mental note to make a concerted effort to do some proper exercise while she was here and then see about going back to the gym when she went home.
