by Heidi Swain
I was the one who was up with the lark the next morning and long before either Jake or Annie. In fact, by the time Annie made it down to the kitchen I’d already fed the dogs, let them out and back in again and made a pot of tea, remembering, of course, to keep my hands well protected whenever I approached the range.
‘Well, aren’t you the early bird!’ Annie laughed as she made her way slowly across the kitchen to her favourite chair.
‘I’m going to collect the eggs and let the hens out in a minute.’
I smiled, more at the words than at Annie. I liked the sound of it. The simplicity of the morning routine was most welcome after enduring years of jostling amongst the armpits of others during the morning commute.
‘Oh, I daresay you’ll want this then,’ said Annie as she reached down the side of her chair.
‘What is it?’ I asked, taking the light, haphazardly wrapped package.
‘Open it,’ she encouraged me. ‘I found it yesterday and thought it would be just the thing for you. I put the lining in last night while you and Jake were out. I hope you like it. I have a feeling you like pretty things.’
‘Oh Annie,’ I gasped, discarding the paper and holding up the prettiest little willow basket imaginable.
‘It’s perfect,’ I told her warmly as I wrapped my fingers around the handle, ‘thank you so much.’
The inside was quilted and lined with what looked like a vintage floral fabric and the size and shape made it the perfect receptacle for collecting eggs.
‘It was mine when I was little,’ Annie told me wistfully, ‘and the lining came from one of my mother’s old tea towels. I’m rather pleased with how it’s turned out,’ she added proudly. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been neglecting my sewing skills lately, but it was nice to have the opportunity to pick up a needle and thread again.’
‘Are you really sure you want me to have it?’ I felt obliged to ask as it was obviously of great sentimental value. ‘If it means so much to you, Annie, shouldn’t you hold on to it?’
‘And do what with it?’ she laughed. ‘No, my love, you keep it. I’ll get far more pleasure seeing it being used every day as opposed to being stuffed in the back of the cupboard!’
‘Well, as long as you’re sure,’ I said, bending to give her a kiss, ‘thank you. Thank you very much. You were right, I do like pretty things. I know Jake laughs at my wellingtons and everything but that’s how I am. I like to look the part!’
‘Never mind looking the part,’ she laughed, grasping my hand, ‘you are the part. I’m so pleased you’ve come to stay, Amber,’ she continued, a slight crack in her voice, ‘having young folk around is good for the soul. I feel heaps better already.’
‘Well, I’m honoured to be here,’ I said, ‘and I’m thrilled you feel well enough to start sewing again. In fact, I can’t wait to see what you transform next.’
Annie smiled and I remembered the plans I’d been dreaming up during the night to bring the May Fair to Skylark Farm.
‘Actually, there was talk of your sewing prowess in The Mermaid last night.’
‘Was there now?’ Annie asked. ‘How on earth did that come up?’
‘Jake and some of the others were talking about the May Fair,’ I explained, ‘and how no one else ever gets a look in when the prizes for the sewing classes are being given out.’
‘Is that a fact?’ she smiled wryly and then added sadly, ‘I didn’t enter last year, but I think I’ll have a crack at it again this year. There’s still just about enough time to pull something together if I make a start straightaway. It would be good to reclaim my title from Bunty Harris.’
In my eagerness to find a way to broach the subject of putting the farm forward as this year’s host I’d inadvertently got Annie all fired up again and I hoped I hadn’t set her up for disappointment if the fair really did get cancelled. That hadn’t been my intention at all.
‘Well,’ I continued, knowing I had to put her straight as kindly as possible, ‘I’m not sure you’re going to get the chance this year, Annie.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘According to the ladies from The Cherry Tree Café,’ I told her, ‘the fair might not be happening this year.’
‘Not happening!’ Annie sounded outraged and clearly viewed the potential cancellation as a personal affront. ‘Whatever are you talking about? That’s ridiculous, unheard of!’
‘The people who usually have it on their land, the Harrisons I think it was, have withdrawn the site. They want someone else to take it on.’
‘Yes, well,’ Annie conceded, ‘they have had quite a year so I can understand their decision, but what on earth are we going to do?’
I opened my mouth to put forward my suggestion but stopped as the dogs rushed from their baskets over to the door at the bottom of the stairs, their tails thumping in perfect unison.
‘Morning all,’ yawned Jake, running his hands through his hair before bending down to make a fuss of the adoring duo.
He definitely had a bad case of ‘bed hair’ this morning; it was sticking up in all directions and his voice was unusually gruff and gravelly.
‘I know I didn’t exactly hold back last night,’ he confessed, ‘but I feel like I’ve got the hangover from hell. Did you spike my drink, Amber?’
‘No, of course not,’ I said, shaking my head, ‘don’t be silly, but you do look rough. I hope you aren’t coming down with something.’
‘If it’s a hangover I know just what you need,’ announced Annie, bustling off into the pantry. ‘Hair of the dog and a little something extra will sort you out.’
Jake grimaced, but didn’t look as if he had the energy to argue. We waited in silence, listening to Annie uncorking bottles and, from what I could make out, cracking eggs.
‘What are you two talking about so early?’ Jake asked, looking warily at the glass Annie set on the table.
‘Don’t stand there analysing it,’ she scolded, ‘don’t even look at it. Just knock it back in one.’
In one swift movement Jake picked up the glass and drank as instructed. I averted my gaze as the thick concoction slipped reluctantly from the glass and into his mouth. Seeing me wince wasn’t going to be an incentive to keep swallowing so I turned my attention back to the basket until I heard him bang the glass back down on the table, which he did with much coughing, spluttering and swearing.
‘Amber was just telling me about the May Fair being cancelled,’ Annie informed him as she whipped the glass away. ‘Feel any better?’
‘A bit,’ Jake croaked.
‘Another?’ Annie offered, holding up another glass.
‘No!’ said Jake, jumping back a little too quickly and holding on to the table until he regained his balance, ‘no thanks, but maybe later if I have a relapse.’
‘Such a shame about the fair,’ Annie sniffed as she rinsed out the glass. ‘I was looking forward to reclaiming my sewing champion title.’
‘Sorry, Annie,’ Jake shrugged, ‘it’s not going to happen and there’s nothing we can do about it.’
‘Well,’ I cut in, with a sheepish grin, ‘there might be something you can do.’
‘What do you mean?’ Jake asked, sitting down to pour himself a mug of tea and refilling mine and Annie’s cups. ‘No field,’ he said resignedly, ‘no fair.’
‘Well,’ I said again, taking a big breath, ‘what about having it here?’
‘What?’ Jake spluttered.
‘You told me on the tour yesterday that you have a couple of meadows for grazing that are currently empty, didn’t you?’
‘So?’
‘When you pointed them out I could see that they both had access from the road so getting everything in and out wouldn’t be a problem.’
‘Go on,’ said Annie.
‘Well, from what I can tell it would be simplicity itself. No one would have to come anywhere near the house, or even the orchards for that matter. You could keep the whole event contained at the farm’s furthest boundary with the
fair in one field and the fairground in the other.’
‘That’s a crazy idea,’ Jake frowned. He looked quite ashen again. ‘There simply isn’t time to get it all ready and you heard last night that Tom has told Jemma the council were all set to pull the plug.’
‘There can’t be that much to do,’ I persisted, encouraged by the glint in Annie’s eye, ‘not now the event has been running for so long. Surely once the fields are mown and some temporary fencing erected the rest is pretty much up to whoever is on the committee. I’m certain the fair must have one, probably more than one, and I wouldn’t mind helping out with the co-ordination if needs be.’
Jake shook his head, a surprisingly ‘hostile to the idea’ expression fixed firmly on his handsome face.
‘This isn’t like one of your corporate events,’ he began to explain in an infuriatingly patient tone. ‘This is like nothing you’ve ever encountered before, Amber. There are so many potential toes for you to stamp all over you wouldn’t know which way to turn! It’s a crazy idea.’
‘Well, it was just a thought,’ I shrugged, finishing my tea and picking up my new basket. ‘I guess I’ve got a lot to learn about country life.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ said Annie sternly. ‘Do you mean to tell me that’s it?’
‘What do you mean?’
I could still see the glint in Annie’s eyes but now it was accompanied by a look of shock and disbelief.
‘Aren’t you even going to put up a fight?’ she asked.
‘Um,’ I mumbled, trying to ignore the air of exasperation I could feel pulsating from Jake. ‘No, Annie, I’m not,’ I admitted. ‘Jake obviously knows what he’s talking about and has far more experience in these matters than I do.’
‘As do I,’ said Annie, drawing herself up to her full five foot three as she walked over to me. She turned to face her nephew, the glint in her eye looking ever more mischievous. ‘And I’m saying yes.’
‘No,’ said Jake, ‘no way.’
‘Yes,’ said Annie. ‘Jake, it would do you good.’
I didn’t hang about to find out why it would do Jake good. I slipped out of the kitchen and into the yard taking the dogs with me as the two warring sides prepared to do battle. Having seen Jake’s unreceptive reaction to the idea, part of me wished I hadn’t said anything, but the other part, the rebellious part, was thrilled by the prospect of Skylark Farm playing host to the May Fair.
From what Jake had said about there being a plethora of ‘potential toes to stamp all over’ I gleaned that there were plenty of locals who were already responsible for organising, setting up and running the fair and I was more than happy to keep my head down, do as I was asked and brace myself for a timely lesson in countryside etiquette.
Chapter 13
Taking a scoopful of corn from the bag in the porch, with my basket and a pair of cotton gardening gloves safely tucked under my arm, I tentatively made my way over to the henhouse. This was my first solo outing as Hen Welfare Manager and I methodically went through the same motions as Jake had the day before.
Having opened the little hatch at the front of the house I had expected the girls to come pelting out, with the exception of Patricia of course, but nothing, not so much as a cluck. I shook some of the grain from the scoop on to the ground and in a heartbeat there was a scrabbling and scurrying and a flurry of feathers as Mabel and Martha shot out of the door and began pecking at the corn, softly clucking in appreciation.
‘You’re welcome,’ I smiled, scattering a little more and saving the rest for the feeder.
Once I’d filled it and checked the water, I cautiously ventured round to the door at the back of the house, set down the scoop and basket, pulled on the gloves and prepared myself to face my beady eyed nemesis.
I looked at Patricia, Patricia looked at me. She ruffled her feathers and sat firm. Her stance couldn’t have been more pistols at dawn! This was it. I knew that within the next few seconds the scene would be set for all future interactions.
I took a couple of calming breaths, walked quickly forward, firmly lifted her off the nest, put her on the floor and stood back up. I think she was so shocked by my actions that she forgot all about the eggs for a few seconds, and in turn, my heart racing with pride, I forgot all about her sharp little beak and lightning fast reflexes. I bent down to stroke her and in a flash she twisted round and pecked viciously at my fingers. Fortunately she only made contact with the gloves, but she didn’t know that and sauntered (quite literally) out of the henhouse to join Martha and Mabel.
Somehow she had managed to manoeuvre both the girls’ eggs so they were packed tightly together, snuggled on her little nest of straw. Slipping off the gloves I gently lifted the lightly speckled clutch and laid them in the basket. I wasn’t sure if Round One had gone in my favour, but the hens were outside and fed and I had two eggs in my basket and that was good enough for me.
I didn’t see anything of Jake for the rest of the day.
‘I think he’s working in the orchards,’ Annie told me when I eventually ventured back to the house, ‘he’s certainly taken his lunch with him. What have you been up to?’
I’d thoroughly enjoyed my morning. I’d even got used to the smell of chicken poo as I swept out the henhouse and replenished the straw. After that I’d pottered about the yard, familiarising myself with the ramshackle sheds. I’d found two blackbird nests in one of them and spent a delightful few minutes watching the parents busily flitting in and out with bug-crammed beaks.
Later I’d gone down to the paddock and tempted Pip to the fence by rattling a few pony nuts in the bucket, although, as I ran my fingers through her rough mane, I couldn’t help thinking she was already a little on the plump side, but perhaps the Shetland favoured a slightly more rotund figure than the ponies I remembered cajoling my parents into letting me ride up and down the beach when I was little.
Although I enjoyed relaying the details of my morning to Annie, without Jake to hear what I had been up to I have to admit some of the shine went out of the day and along with it some of the pride I felt in what I had achieved so far.
‘How’s the injury?’ Annie asked. ‘I hope you haven’t got it too mucky through all your good work!’
I held up my hand and showed her the now even grubbier, grey bandage.
‘I know I should have kept my gloves on,’ I said, ‘but you just can’t get the feel of things through them, can you?’
‘Spoken like a true country woman!’ Annie laughed, clapping her hands together.
‘I’m hardly that,’ I blushed, feeling secretly pleased that under her scrutiny I had met with such approval.
‘I think we’d better have that off,’ she said, pointing to the bandage, ‘and survey the damage.’
Where before the skin had been blistered and a violent shade of red it was now smooth and pink and virtually pain free.
‘So, do you really not know how applying raw potato actually works?’ I asked, while gently rubbing the scar as I washed my hands at the sink.
‘Do you know,’ Annie frowned, ‘I really don’t, but I think it must have something to do with retaining moisture, and of course the humble potato is well known for its antibacterial qualities, isn’t it? I’m afraid I really don’t know the exact science behind it, but my grandmother always swore by it.’
‘And so do I now!’ I laughed.
‘Just one more day, I think, don’t you?’ said Annie, making up a fresh dressing.
‘Is Jake still cross with me about the fair?’ I finally plucked up the courage to ask as she secured a clean new bandage with a safety pin. ‘I didn’t mean to upset him when I suggested the idea. I just thought it might be fun and would ensure you didn’t miss out on competing in the sewing classes again.’
‘You’re a good girl,’ Annie smiled, ‘and your heart’s in the right place. Don’t you worry about Jake, he’ll come round.’
Personally I wasn’t so sure and when I went to bed alone that night I was beginning to th
ink I had made my first ‘living the country life’ faux pas far sooner than I had expected to.
Amazingly there was still no sign of Jake the next morning and, having slept like the proverbial log, I wasn’t even sure if he’d come up to bed at all, but when I asked Annie about it she didn’t sound concerned in the least.
‘Oh, he’ll be about here somewhere,’ she told me, ‘you need to stop fretting. You know what the Somerville men are like. It takes them a while to stop sulking.’
‘Does it?’ I said.
This was the first time Jake and I had argued. Not that you could really call what had happened between us an argument, but it was a side to him that I hadn’t seen before and I wasn’t sure I liked it.
‘Of course!’ Annie laughed. ‘You only have to think about the tantrums that dope of a brother throws all the time to know that Jake must have a little of that silly stubbornness running through his veins.’
She was right about that. Dan was well known for throwing his toys out of the pram if things didn’t go his way. For the first time I wondered how he was settling into life in Dubai and whether the girl he had mentioned had been left behind heartbroken and abandoned or with promises that he’d remain loyal and fly her out to visit.
‘And besides,’ Annie continued when I didn’t say anything, ‘there’s a whole lot more to this moving back and sorting things out malarkey than meets the eye.’
‘Is there?’ I said. I wasn’t sure what she meant about ‘moving back’. As far as I knew Jake had only ever been a temporary resident at the farm. ‘Like what?’
‘Not my place to say,’ she sniffed, ‘he’ll tell you when he’s good and ready. Should have done so already in my opinion, but I’ve never been one to interfere.’
