A Country Escape

by Katie Fforde

  It was from Issi.

  Can you give me a ring, soonest? It’s urgent.

  She ran from the room to the hallway, finding Issi’s number. Issi answered instantly. ‘Is? What is it?’

  ‘It’s Amy. She’s in hospital. She was taken in during the night. It’s not looking good, Fran.’

  ‘Oh God! I should be with her.’

  ‘Well, yes. As soon as you can. Roy’s on his way there now.’

  ‘Oh no. He’ll tell her how I’m in London with Antony, the man she loves to hate.’

  ‘She’s not making a lot of sense apparently, so don’t worry about that. They think it’s probably a UTI – urinary tract infection, in case you don’t know. My grandmother kept getting them. They make you doolally for a bit but she should be OK once the antibiotics kick in.’

  ‘But you think she’ll be OK permanently?’

  ‘Hon, I’m not a doctor. Just get here.’

  Fran ran back into the bedroom. Antony was getting dressed. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, buttoning his shirt.

  ‘It’s Amy. She’s in hospital. I need to go to her.’

  ‘Fine,’ said Antony. ‘Then I’ll take you there. You get dressed; I’ll order some breakfast which we can pick up from reception and eat in the car.’

  He was so calm, so in control; his clear instructions made her feel less panic-stricken.

  ‘Keep my shirt on,’ he added with a smile. ‘It suits you. I’ll find you a jumper to put on top. It may be a bit fresh out there.’

  Everything happened very smoothly after that. Wearing Antony’s shirt and one of his cashmere sweaters over the top of her own clothes, Fran got into his car, which had been brought to the door by the parking valet, clutching a cardboard carrier with coffee and a bag with croissants. Her belongings were on the back seat.

  ‘I’m so grateful, Antony,’ she said when she’d taken a sip of the strong, but very good coffee.

  ‘You don’t ever need to feel grateful for anything I do for you. I love you, therefore I look out for you. Simple as that.’

  Fran couldn’t speak. She thought she might cry, which would be ridiculous. She cleared her throat, but still couldn’t utter a word. She patted his hand instead, hoping he’d understand. Part of her was so happy, but the other part was desperately anxious. She couldn’t help remembering what the nurse had said about Amy’s heart condition. Supposing Amy died before she got there?

  She bit her lip hard and tried to focus on the passing streets. Never to see that often-cantankerous old lady again was a horrible thought. It hadn’t always gone well. It had taken them both a little while to get the measure of each other but Fran realised she now loved her, for all her cranky ways. And she sensed that Amy liked her back. Fran couldn’t assume she was loved, but liked, certainly.

  But did she like her as much as the oleaginous Roy? Roy, who put on the charm, suppressed his less attractive characteristics and claimed to be a farm boy who’d always wanted a little spot in the Old Country?

  The staff at the care home had told her, and she had sometimes observed it for herself, that Amy liked men. She had very old-fashioned notions and in spite of her own life as a farmer, she did seem to think that men were better at it that women. Feminism seemed to have passed her by. And to be honest, Roy was a lot better qualified to run the farm than she was. She was a city girl who was afraid of cows. But she loved the farm and Roy seemed only to love its potential value.

  They didn’t speak much on the journey home, but as they started on the last leg, Fran said, ‘Should I go home first and change, do you think?’

  He glanced at her and smiled. ‘I’d ask Issi. You do look – well …’

  ‘As if I’d just got out of bed having had a very nice time?’ Fran was relieved to have her gloomy thoughts sent in another direction.

  ‘Let’s just say you have a special glow about you.’

  Fran glowed some more.

  ‘I am so sorry about Amy being ill just at this minute,’ he went on. ‘We should be having a lovely time together; there should be nothing but happiness just now. But instead you’re worried about losing someone who’s become dear to you.’

  ‘That’s true, but I’m ashamed to confess I’m worried about losing the farm, too. I know it’s awfully mercenary of me, but if Roy inherits, what shall I do? I really don’t want to go back to London. I’m a country girl now.’

  ‘You could consider moving but not very far from where you live now? My house is big enough for two.’

  She laughed. ‘Your house is big enough for two hundred.’

  ‘Only if we hire a marquee …’

  ‘You know what I mean!’ The joy of it was, he did know what she meant. She felt he understood her in a way no other boyfriend had, really. But was he a boyfriend? It seemed too flippant a term, really, for Antony. And it felt too flippant a term for how she felt about him. ‘Thank you very much for inviting me to stay,’ she said seriously.

  He laughed. ‘It’s an open-ended invitation. For as long as we both shall live, to quote a rather famous line.’

  ‘Are you asking me to …’ she paused, ‘… live with you?’ Fran wanted to be clear about this. Getting it wrong would be dreadful.

  He glanced at her again and didn’t speak immediately. ‘What I’m saying is, if you don’t inherit the farm, you could come and live with me – there’s no need for you to go back to London. I want you by my side for ever. But if the farm is yours, well, living arrangements can be discussed.’

  ‘Right, just so I can get it clear in my head, if I inherit the farm you may be willing to move out of your house and share my rather small house, which hasn’t got proper Wi-Fi and only a hand-held shower?’

  ‘Darling.’ He touched her knee briefly. ‘What I’m going to say can easily be misinterpreted but I do hope you won’t. You know I love you and also that I’ve always wanted Amy’s farm. Not only for the potential south-facing vineyards’ – he held up his had to stop her protesting at the thought – ‘which I now know are never going to be there, but for the wonderful position of the house.’

  ‘So you want me for my south-facing views?’ Fran was joking but suddenly things did seem a little different.

  ‘No! I’d want you wherever you lived. What I’m trying to say, rather clumsily, is that I don’t mind giving up my house to live with you in yours.’

  ‘OK …’ said Fran slowly.

  ‘But if you weren’t there I wouldn’t want your house. At one time, yes, but not any more.’

  ‘Golly,’ said Fran, knowing it was inadequate as a statement but unable to express herself properly.

  There was a ping from her phone. It was Issi. Are you nearly at the farm? Come as soon as you can.

  ‘We need to hurry!’ she said.

  ‘We’re very close,’ Antony said calmly. ‘I’ll have you there in ten minutes.’

  Chapter Twenty

  Amy was in the local cottage hospital, so finding her bedside wasn’t as hard as it might have been. Fran ran after Antony who strode down the corridors as if he knew where he was going.

  Amy was in a side ward looking heartbreakingly fragile. There were tubes giving her oxygen and a drip in her arm. She looked dreadfully old and ill and so tiny.

  Roy got up when he heard their arrival. ‘She’s pretty much out of it,’ he said, far too loudly in Fran’s opinion. ‘I’m off to the pub. I’ve told the nurses not to resuscitate.’

  ‘What gave you to the right to do that?’ said Fran, utterly outraged.

  ‘I am her next of kin!’ declared Roy. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Is he her next of kin?’ asked Antony.

  Fran shrugged. ‘I have no idea, but we need to “un-tell” the nurses that this minute.’ She dithered, wanting to stay with Amy but feeling it was essential she saw someone in authority immediately.

  ‘Shall I go and find someone?’ said Antony. ‘Then you can stay here with her?’

  She nodded, suddenly, embarrassingly, fighting tears
yet again. It was partly gratitude that he had guessed what she wanted, and partly shock at seeing Amy so diminished.

  She cleared her throat, pulling herself together at the same time as she pulled up a chair. Then she picked up one of Amy’s hands, as small as a child’s. ‘Amy? It’s Francesca. I’ve come to see you. I know you’re asleep, but I’m going to wait here until you wake up.’

  As she sat, waiting for Antony to come back with a nurse, or for some reaction from Amy, Fran felt strangely connected with the old lady. They hadn’t always communicated very well, but here, holding hands, saying nothing, feeling seemed to flow between them.

  Antony came back with a nurse who seemed pleased to see Fran. She introduced herself and then said, ‘The trouble is, she’s just not getting enough fluid. The care home said she didn’t like the taste of the water. She missed the water she had at the farm.’

  Fran glanced up at Antony.

  ‘That’s easily solved,’ he said. ‘I could go back and fetch some. I’ll buy one of those dispenser things at the hardware store first.’

  ‘Honestly, just a bottle would be fine,’ said the nurse, ‘but that might be really helpful. Even if she can’t really taste the difference, it will encourage her.’

  ‘Would she like some of her cowslip wine, do you think?’ asked Fran.

  ‘She might,’ said the nurse. ‘Again, she probably wouldn’t have very much but it might cheer her up.’

  ‘I’ll ask Issi,’ said Antony. He looked at Fran. ‘Is there anything else you need from home? Or from the canteen?’

  ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine—’ Fran began.

  ‘I’d have a cup of tea now,’ said the nurse. ‘The canteen is staffed by volunteers and they’ll close soon. And I do recommend the chocolate cake.’

  Antony smiled. ‘I’ll get that and then head off for the farm.’

  ‘He’s nice,’ said the nurse when Antony had gone. ‘Is he your boyfriend?’

  Fran felt put on the spot. ‘Er, yes. I suppose so. It’s all a bit new,’ she explained.

  ‘If it’s new, he’s being really kind – especially to an old lady he doesn’t know.’

  ‘Oh, he does know her, sort of. It’s complicated.’ Fran didn’t want to say that they were neighbours, and Amy thought Antony was the spawn of the devil, particularly when he so obviously wasn’t.

  ‘Maybe he’s being kind to her to help you?’

  Fran nodded. ‘I expect that’s it. He is one of the kindest people I know.’

  ‘Then hang on to him. Kindness and good looks don’t always go together.’

  The nurse left and Fran smiled to herself. If the woman had also known that Antony was well off, she’d have been even more insistent that Fran should keep hold of him.

  Just under an hour later, Antony came back with the water and a care package from Issi: sandwiches, some make-up and a thermos of hot chocolate.

  He kissed her cheek and they hugged briefly.

  ‘You must go now,’ said Fran. ‘You’ve given up enough of your time for me and mine in the past two days.’

  ‘Call me if you need anything. And I’ll pick you up whenever you want.’ He looked at her so intently there was no doubt that he meant it. It made Fran’s heart skip a beat from relief and happiness. He was a rock when she needed one.

  ‘I will call but I know you must have so much to catch up with.’

  He hesitated. ‘You’re more important than work.’

  She laughed gently, loving him more for saying that. ‘You don’t have to choose. Do your work. If Issi or Tig can’t pick me up I’ll get a taxi.’

  ‘I’ll allow Issi or Tig to pick you up, but don’t take a taxi. It wouldn’t take long for me to do it.’

  She beamed at him, certain that love was radiating out of her, not sure if she shouldn’t be a bit more circumspect about revealing her feelings but unable to help it. ‘If I need you, I’ll call.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Promise.’

  A quiet bliss settled over Fran, overwhelming to a large extent her anxiety for Amy. It was wonderful to be in love and feel loved in return.

  Eventually, she began to talk to Amy. She really wanted to tell her about Antony and how happy she was, but Amy was really the only person she couldn’t tell. She talked about the cheese instead.

  ‘You have got to pull through this time, Amy. I know you can’t live forever, none of us can, but I need to tell you about the cheese.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’ve been up to London to deliver it to an old chef friend of mine. He tasted it when he bought some at the farmers’ market and thought it was wonderful. Then I made a lot more for him so he could present it at a food festival to some very famous food writers and chefs.’

  She thought she sensed a tiny squeeze from the bird-like fingers.

  ‘It does have such a wonderful flavour. All those wild flowers and different grasses – you can really taste them.’

  There was another tiny squeeze – this time there was no doubt about it. Amy seemed to want to speak, although her eyes were still closed. Fran tucked her hair behind her ear and leant in close.

  ‘Too young,’ breathed Amy, only audible because Fran’s ear was practically touching her lips.

  ‘No! I’m not too young. I’m loving the farm and making it all work. I’m not too young at all!’

  ‘Not you, the cheese,’ said Amy.

  Fran laughed gently. Amy was not only able to talk, but to take in what she had been saying and make a sensible comment. ‘Oh, it’s not Cheddar, Amy. It’s soft cheese. But I will make hard cheese. I really want to. But I need to find the quarry. Maybe you could tell me where it is?’

  This had to be a good time to ask Amy. They were talking about cheese and she knew Amy wanted Fran’s produce to be good. But Amy seemed to have drifted back to sleep.

  When the nurse came, Fran stood up and stretched. ‘I think she’s a bit better. She spoke to me.’

  The nurse checked all the various bit of equipment, and then she felt Amy’s forehead with her hand in a genuinely caring way. ‘I think you’re right. I think she’s a bit better!

  The two women looked at each other, smiling delightedly.

  Then Roy came back and while Fran wouldn’t have said he was definitely drunk, he had the smell of pub about him.

  ‘Amy’s better,’ said Fran. ‘Isn’t that great? She spoke to me.’

  ‘Great,’ said Roy, his expression not matching his words, still not moderating his volume. ‘Then I can tell her all about who you’ve been sleeping with, can’t I?’ He leant into Amy. ‘Aunt Amy? Can you hear me? It’s Roy again!’

  Fran took hold of his arm and pulled him back. ‘Don’t shout at her. She’s ill.’

  ‘I have to shout. She’s deaf and out of it!’

  How could he even think of troubling an elderly and very sick woman with gossip? And was there no depth to which he wouldn’t sink to improve his chances of inheriting the farm?

  ‘Don’t shout,’ Fran repeated. She was sure she saw Amy flinch away from the noise. Annoyingly she couldn’t think of what else she could do to stop him. She wasn’t strong enough to drag him away physically.

  Thank goodness, obviously hearing raised voices, the nurse came back in. ‘I think my patient would be better if her visitors went home now. She needs her rest. Thank you for getting your boyfriend to bring in the water from home,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you if she likes it.’

  The woman had natural authority and a uniform. Roy calmed down and they both left the room, Fran having given Amy a quick peck on her forehead.

  As they walked out of the hospital, Fran realised she needed a lift home. She could call Antony or Issi but why should she? Roy was here.

  ‘Which car did you bring?’ she said as they approached the car park. ‘Yours or mine? Either way, I need a lift back to the farm.’

  ‘I was going back to the pub—’

  ‘Nope. You’re taking me home first. You owe me. You took my car without permissio
n.’

  ‘For someone who was weeping at the bedside of an old woman you’re hardly even related to, you’ve got quite a cob on,’ said Roy as they walked.

  ‘Because I care about Amy, it doesn’t mean I’m soft,’ she said.

  ‘I just wonder why you care about a woman who’s days away from death? Is it because you think you might inherit her farm?’

  ‘I think it’s blatantly obvious that’s why you don’t care about her. She’s worth so much more to you dead!’

  He shrugged.

  To Fran’s relief, it was Roy’s car she saw, slightly askew in the corner of the hospital car park.

  They were just turning out of the town when Fran saw Megan walking along holding bags from the town’s dress shop. To her surprise and irritation, Roy pulled up.

  ‘Hey, Megan!’

  ‘Roy!’ Megan leant in and kissed Roy’s cheek through the window of the car.

  They obviously knew each other well.

  ‘Hello, Megan,’ said Fran, trying to keep her voice neutral.

  ‘Oh, Fran, I didn’t expect to see you there.’

  ‘Roy’s giving me a lift back from the hospital. Amy’s there, not very well.’

  ‘That’s kind of him,’ said Megan. ‘And I hoped we’d see you in the pub?’

  Fran was surprised. She didn’t think Megan was a pub kind of person. She’d be more into cocktail places, or wine bars. But maybe Megan was a regular down at the Wheatsheaf, or whichever of the town’s pubs Roy frequented.

  ‘I might be down later, but I’m rather under the cosh here.’ He jerked a thumb in Fran’s direction. ‘Madam might want me to run another errand for her.’

  ‘Right now “Madam” just wants to get home. It’s been a very long day,’ said Fran.

  ‘And a long night too, I reckon,’ said Roy.

  He was about to expound on what she might have been doing when Megan broke in. ‘So what’s wrong with Amy?’ she asked Fran.

  ‘She has an infection. She was a bit better when we left her though.’