Hetty's Farmhouse Bakery

by Cathy Bramley

  There was a refreshments kiosk selling drinks further along the top floor and we headed over there. The heat was stifling. I was used to being outside with no shortage of fresh air. Being in this huge greenhouse of a building was making me feel claustrophobic. I undid another button on my shirt and flapped the collar.

  ‘Shall we go and stand near that oven?’ Gil said, waggling an eyebrow. He pointed to the Essex Pizza Company stand, where a man was sliding bubbling pizzas from a clay oven on to a huge slate board. ‘Just in case you feel like undoing anything else.’

  I gave him a stern look. ‘It’s all right for you in your shorts.’

  We stopped and ordered two iced coffees. I looked at his tanned legs while the barista made our drinks.

  ‘I’ve been here before,’ he said, handing over money and refusing my offer of cash. ‘I know all the tricks.’

  Just then a fire exit door opened and a man holding cigarettes and matches came through it.

  ‘Like this one, hurry up,’ Gil continued. ‘Hold the door please, mate!’

  The man managed to catch the door before it closed and we took our drinks over. Gil went out ahead of me.

  ‘It’s not a great view, and not sure how fresh it is, but it is air,’ he said, holding the door open for me.

  I laughed when I saw the view. We were surrounded by rooftops, not an inch of greenery in sight. Immediately outside the door was the small platform at the top of a fire escape, with metal stairs that wound their way down to ground level. The view below was of rows and rows of industrial-sized dustbins and recycling skips. Hunched between some of them were homeless people in sleeping bags. There was a dustbin lorry trying to reverse into the small area and two refuse collectors were attempting to move the homeless people out of the path of the lorry.

  ‘Gosh, this makes me appreciate home,’ I murmured.

  Gil grabbed a plastic crate and used it to wedge open the fire door. ‘There, now we’ll hear if they make any announcements.’

  We leaned over the railings and sipped our drinks.

  ‘So,’ we both said at the same time and then laughed.

  ‘You go first,’ said Gil.

  ‘Um.’ I picked at a bit of loose paint on the railings. There was so much I wanted to know. Like was he okay after I left, who did he marry, did he ever think of me …? But I couldn’t ask those things; I had no right. He’d been so good to me and I’d simply upped and left the very next day after the first and only time we’d made love. It felt wrong asking about his personal life.

  ‘I still think about you,’ he said. ‘You were the first girl to break my heart.’

  ‘I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation I did feel bad about it and I still think of you from time to time.’

  ‘Hey, listen.’ He shuffled closer and bumped my shoulder gently with his. ‘It was a long time ago. Tell me about you. I bet your husband’s proud of his award-winning wife?’

  ‘Hmm.’ I wrinkled my nose. ‘He is. But I’m needed on the farm, and he sees Hetty’s Farmhouse Bakery as an unnecessary distraction. So I’ve decided that after today I’m mothballing the business until I have the time to devote myself properly to it.’

  ‘You’re kidding?’ He stared at me. ‘He must be mad. If my wife wanted to start her own business, I’d get the flags out. Not that that’s very likely,’ he added bitterly. ‘She’s far happier spending money than earning it.’

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, keen to steer the topic away from our respective spouses, ‘I never really planned to start a company, it wasn’t my burning ambition. To begin with I just saw it as a way to make my daughter proud.’

  ‘I’m sure you couldn’t fail to do that,’ he said softly.

  I glanced at Gil. He was staring at me like I was the most fascinating thing on the planet and I knew I shouldn’t encourage it but just lately Dan had been looking through me like I was invisible and it felt so lovely to be listened to.

  ‘I’ve always made pies, ever since you showed me how to crimp pastry.’

  ‘So …’ His lips twitched. ‘You make Cornish pasties?’

  ‘No, no,’ I clarified quickly, ‘they are pies, big round pies.’

  He laughed, a delicious gurgle of a laugh, and I laughed too. This was such fun, just being here chatting and laughing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so relaxed.

  I knew I should say something, edge away, start talking about something like what a terrible problem we’d had with maggots recently or how awful it was when one of our ewes died because she got her head stuck in the lamb feeder but I couldn’t. All I could do was stare at his mouth. I hadn’t noticed him move but there he was, right in front of me, so close that I could feel the heat from his face, smell his scent, outdoorsy and fresh, like Dan but where he smelled more often than not of lanolin, Gil smelled of the sea.

  ‘Hetty.’ He was staring at my lips.

  ‘Hmm?’ It was like I’d been hypnotized; I was completely under his spell. I could feel my body pulling me towards him.

  ‘Would all finalists in the Britain’s Best Bites competition please take their seats in the main theatre kitchen,’ rang out the voice sharply across the tannoy.

  I stepped away from him, but Gil reached a hand to cup my face.

  ‘We should get back,’ I said weakly.

  ‘Wait.’ Gil’s eyes bored fiercely into mine. ‘You and me, we were so good together.’

  He was right; we had been. But that was a long time ago. I had a life, a daughter, a husband, for goodness’ sake.

  ‘We hardly started,’ I said, shaking my head.

  ‘Perhaps we should pick up where we—Jesus.’

  He sprang away from me as the metal fire escape door was slammed back against its hinges and Joe appeared in the doorway.

  ‘So here you are.’ Joe had a thunderous expression and he was out of breath.

  ‘Hi,’ I spluttered. ‘We were just coming—’

  ‘It’s … it’s your daughter.’ He thrust my phone at me. I looked at him again; it wasn’t anger on his face, it was fear.

  Time seemed to stand still. The sounds of the busy hall, the beeping of the reversing lorry … it all faded away.

  Joe and Gil listened grimly as I pressed the phone to my ear. ‘Poppy?’

  ‘Oh Mum,’ she sobbed. ‘Please come home.’

  ‘Darling, what’s the matter?’ Blood began to pump through my veins so loudly I could hardly hear her. ‘What’s that noise in the background?’

  ‘It’s the air ambulance. There’s been an accident. Please hurry back.’

  ‘Who’s injured?’ I yelled, forcing a finger into my ear. ‘Who?’

  ‘Dad and Bart. But Bart’s worse, I … I think he’s going to die.’

  Chapter 22

  The train was approaching the station. I was nearly home. As the engine slowed, my heart rate gathered speed with anxiety.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ I muttered impatiently.

  It had been the longest afternoon of my life; I don’t think I relaxed my muscles once during the entire journey. I had my arm through the train window, hand on the handle, waiting for the doors to unlock. I could see Naomi and Poppy on the platform, desperately trying to spot me.

  I’d not even hung around to say my goodbyes in London. We’d already checked out of the hotel, so all I had to do was collect my overnight case from the luggage office at Olympia, jump in a cab and catch the first train back to Cumbria. Joe had texted me several times to tell me he was thinking of us and to ask would I please keep him abreast of the news. I hadn’t replied. I couldn’t face him yet, I felt so guilty about everything. I had tried to call Anna, but her phone was permanently on voicemail, but I had spoken to Naomi and she’d told me what she knew, which wasn’t much: Cameron had been driving the trailer when it overturned and hit Bart and Dan. Bart had been airlifted to Cumbrian Royal Infirmary where there was a trauma team who could treat him. Because Dan’s injuries were less serious, air paramedics had left him to travel to hos
pital by ambulance so they could focus on saving Bart’s life. Viv had gone with him and Poppy had had to be left behind, traumatized, and once again it had been Naomi to the rescue; she’d dashed over to the farm as soon as she could to collect her.

  Finally, the doors unlocked and I flew out of the carriage and raced along the platform, my heart pounding with relief at just being back on my home turf.

  ‘Mum, you’re home!’ Poppy wailed, throwing herself at me. ‘It was all my fault.’

  ‘Oh, baby girl. I’m sure that’s not true. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me.’

  I felt a surge of love for my red-faced, tear-stained daughter. So different from the giggling, happy one sharing pizza with her mates last night. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, pressing my cheek to the top of her head. Her body was trembling and for a couple of seconds I just rocked her from side to side, sending up a million thank-yous that she hadn’t been injured too.

  ‘It was an accident, Pops,’ said Naomi levelly, ruffling her niece’s hair. ‘Goes with the territory in farming, I’m afraid. Glad you’re back, though, Hetty. Nothing beats a cuddle with Mum.’

  A pang of guilt shot through me for not being here sooner and I gave Poppy another squeeze.

  ‘I repeat: an accident,’ said Naomi, catching my expression. ‘So you can stop beating yourself up too.’

  She took my bag from me and with a hand on my back guided us towards the car park. It was pouring with rain and despite being June it was cold and grey and I shivered in my short-sleeved dress.

  ‘Gran wouldn’t let me go to the hospital with her and Dad,’ said Poppy, still clinging to me, tears streaming down her face. ‘But Cameron looked after me, made me hot chocolate for shock. He said he’d stay at the farm until one of us gets back.’

  ‘And who’s comforting Cameron? No doubt he’ll be in shock too?’ I asked.

  ‘Tim’s on his way to help,’ said Naomi. ‘So he won’t be in sole charge for long.’

  In other circumstances we’d have all laughed at that; Tim was as comfortable on a farm as a snowman in a heatwave. But I was grateful for any support today.

  ‘Thank you,’ I managed to say, despite the lump in my throat. ‘Is there any more news?’

  ‘Not since we last spoke, but Dan should be out of X-ray by now.’

  ‘Oh God.’ I felt sick. My lovely Dan, injured and in pain while I was standing on a fire escape making cow eyes at my ex-lover. I was a truly terrible person. I didn’t deserve him. My mouth was so dry I could barely speak. ‘And Bart?’

  She shook her head and shot me an anxious look over Poppy’s head. ‘We can’t get any information. Mum keeps asking the hospital staff but other than saying that Anna had arrived and that he was in the best possible place, they wouldn’t tell her anything as we’re not family.’

  Anna and Bart had no other family. My insides clenched. Poor, poor Anna; she’d be a mess. At least the Greengrass clan had each other to fall back on for support at times like these; she had no one.

  We reached Naomi’s van with its Sunnybank Farm logo on the side of it. Poppy peeled herself off me and clambered into the middle seat at the front. Naomi opened the rear doors, stowed my bag inside and glanced over her shoulder to check Poppy was out of earshot.

  ‘There is news, but I haven’t told Poppy,’ she whispered.

  ‘Go on?’ I stepped closer.

  ‘Bart hasn’t regained consciousness yet, as far as we know.’

  ‘Bloody hell.’ My stomach sank.

  ‘He’s going into theatre for surgery on his leg as soon as they can fit him in. They’re waiting for the results from the scan to find out what’s causing his unconsciousness, and in the meantime he’s been sedated.’

  I felt sick. ‘Poor boy.’

  She nodded gravely. ‘But he got to the hospital within the golden hour; that will maximize his chances of recovery.’

  A sob escaped and I pressed a hand to my mouth. I’d only been away from home for little more than a day. How could so much go wrong in such a short time?

  Naomi rubbed my arm. ‘You look like you’re on your last legs, Hetty. Do you want to go home first?’

  ‘No, please take me to the hospital,’ I said firmly. ‘I need to be there; I need to do something.’

  Naomi dropped us off at the entrance and then headed back to the farm. Poppy and I took the lift up to the second floor and followed numerous corridors through the hospital to find the ward Dan had been assigned to.

  ‘There’s Gran,’ cried Poppy, spotting Viv halfway down the busy ward. She was refilling a water jug from a tap. We rushed over.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ Poppy demanded.

  Viv pointed him out and she dashed straight across. I made to follow her but Viv caught my arm.

  ‘I blame myself,’ she said in a wobbly voice. Tears shone in her eyes. ‘This could all have been prevented. If only I hadn’t let the dogs out.’

  She didn’t look her glamourous self today. Her bobbed hair, normally so sleek and perfectly curled under, was sticking out in all directions; there were stains down the front of her jumper, which may have been blood, and she looked old and frail. My heart went out to her. I took the jug and hugged her.

  ‘If we’re going to apportion blame, then I’m the guilty one,’ I said. ‘If I hadn’t been away, you wouldn’t have been at the farm. So we’ll have no more of that talk.’

  She rubbed a weary hand through her hair. ‘Thank goodness all Poppy’s friends had already been collected and were spared the ordeal.’ She shuddered. ‘It’s a sight I’ll not forget in a hurry.’

  I put my arm round her shoulders and together we crossed the ward to where Poppy had draped herself over Dan in bed. He was propped up, naked to the waist with wires protruding from sensors on his chest. On his right side his hand and wrist were bandaged and his arm was in a sling, his other hand had a large dressing on it with a clip on his finger. His face was clammy and grey and contorted in pain.

  ‘The wanderer returns.’ Dan managed a weak smile and then winced as he tried to lift himself up. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  My face burned with shame.

  ‘I leave you alone for five minutes,’ I joked pathetically, sliding my arms around his neck. I breathed him in and closed my eyes, trying to swallow my tears.

  Poppy moved to the end of the bed and sat cross-legged by his feet and Viv rearranged his pillows.

  ‘Fractured his collarbone,’ she said briskly. ‘And a few nasty cuts to his hand. He’ll live.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ said Dan, kissing my hair. ‘I might get a better class of sympathy.’

  Viv chuckled and pressed a loving hand to her son’s good shoulder.

  ‘I know Bart’s still really ill,’ said Poppy in a small voice, ‘but I’m so glad to have you two back in the same room.’

  I smoothed a hand over her cheek. ‘I won’t go anywhere ever again, I promise.’

  Dan gritted his teeth. ‘I’ll never forgive myself if, if anything … happens to that lad.’

  I exchanged glances with Viv; I didn’t know how much Dan had been told. Viv picked up her handbag and held out her hand to Poppy.

  ‘Come on, let’s go and find a vending machine, I bet your mum’s parched.’

  I shot her a grateful smile and eased myself gently on to the bed as I watched them leave.

  ‘If you don’t want to talk about it I understand,’ I murmured, smoothing his hair from his forehead. ‘But Cameron is usually really good at manoeuvring the trailer. What happened?’

  ‘Where to start?’ He frowned. ‘It was one of those nightmare scenarios when everything went wrong at once.

  ‘Cameron was driving the Land Rover and I got out to guide him while he reversed the trailer into position. Bart was waiting at the back to help me uncouple it from the jockey wheel and Poppy was trying to get the tractor out of the shed. The dogs shot across the yard and frightened Poppy, she hit the shed door with such a crash that Cameron’s fo
ot slipped off the clutch. The Land Rover shot back and the trailer tipped over. I managed to roll out of the way and it just clipped my shoulder. Bart copped the worst of it. It could have killed him. It still might. God, Hetty, it was awful.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ I said, seeing Dan so close to tears.

  He hung his head. ‘The buck stops here. With me. Regardless of who’s to blame. And I feel sick to my stomach.’

  Just then a nurse appeared at the foot of the bed and unhooked a clipboard. Dan swiped at his eyes quickly.

  ‘You must be Hetty,’ she said with a smile and I nodded.

  ‘Now, Dan, let’s have a look at your obs,’ she said, moving to the monitors and jotting down numbers on her chart.

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Dan.

  ‘You are indeed. These can come off now.’ She took the clip from his finger. ‘Looks like you’ve avoided concussion, but just to be on the safe side, I want you to stay put for the rest of the day.’

  ‘Ouch.’ Dan pulled a face as she peeled his chest hairs away with the pads.

  ‘Need any more pain relief?’ she asked.

  ‘I do now,’ he grumbled.

  ‘That was nothing,’ she chuckled as Dan rubbed his sore chest. ‘They have no idea, do they?’

  I looked down and fiddled with the edge of the sheet. ‘None at all.’

  I knew she was referring to hair removal, but it felt as if she was talking about my indiscretions in London. Technically, I’d done nothing wrong, but would it have stopped at nothing if Joe hadn’t disturbed us? Thank goodness I never got to find out.

  ‘So how did you get on in London? Did you get your kiss?’ she asked.

  ‘Pardon?’ I blinked at her, feeling heat rise to my cheeks.

  ‘Harrison Finch?’ She winked at me. ‘I’ve been hearing all about a baking competition from your mother-in-law. Apparently, you’ve got the hots for him and if you won you’d probably get a kiss off him.’

  ‘Oh,’ I said with an awkward laugh. ‘That.’

  She prodded Dan. ‘Listen to her, making light of it. Hasn’t she done well?’

  He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘Sorry, love, with all this happening I never asked how it went in London.’