by Emma Davies
‘Oh, ha bloody ha,’ muttered Willow.
Freya giggled. ‘Get on with you Jude, you love it you know you do… you might want to watch the staff though, Willow, this chap seems to have eaten half your stock.’
It was true, Jude’s shirt had a very obvious dribble of strawberry juice down the front.
Jude pulled a face. ‘I’m a walking advertisement for the deliciousness of the crop, that’s all.’ He looked back at Freya. ‘I don’t even get paid…’
‘My heart bleeds for you,’ said Freya, miming playing the strings of a violin.
‘Actually Jude, now that you’re here, would you mind watching the shop for a minute? I just want to have a chat with Freya, you know, lovey dovey girly stuff, and I thought we could pop back to the house for half an hour or so…I’ll bring some drinks out afterwards.’
Jude’s smile was warm. ‘Of course it’s okay. Go on, I’ll take over here.’ He kissed Freya’s cheek again. ‘If I don’t get to see you later, say hi to Sam for me. Tell him to give me a ring, it’s about time we had a pint together.’
Freya nodded as Willow took her arm. She waited for a few moments until they were well clear of the shop before speaking again.
‘What on earth was all that wanting to talk about lovey dovey stuff back there? That’s not the impression you gave me on the phone.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘What are you up to?’
They’d reached the garden gate now, and Freya paused while Willow fiddled with the catch. ‘Only that I know it’s a subject pretty much guaranteed to have the menfolk backing away in droves. I want to show you something, but strictly on the QT for now.’
‘Okay…’ said Freya slowly, following Willow up the path.
Once inside, Willow led the way back into the kitchen.
‘Look, let’s grab a drink and I’ll explain.’ She reached into the fridge and took out a glass jug decorated with daisies.
‘Is elderflower okay?’ she asked.
Freya nodded enthusiastically, rather pleased. Willow was not the only one with things to discuss.
Once they each had a glass, Willow beckoned Freya back down the hallway, leading her into the room she had been musing in earlier. It was warm inside – a bit tired and musty, as though it had been shut up for too long. Apart from a sink, a long pine trestle table which held her grandmother’s notebook, two chairs and a series of shelves running the length of one wall, it was completely empty.
Freya’s eyebrows were raised. ‘That’s quite a transformation,’ she said, thinking back to the time when she had last seen this room. On that occasion it had been full to the brim with coats, boots, toys, gardening equipment and the million and one other things that never quite seemed to fit in any other part of the house. ‘When did you do all this?’
‘A couple of weeks ago. Three actually.’
Freya looked up, concern crossing her face. ‘You gonna tell me why?’ she asked softly, taking a seat at the table. Willow followed suit.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever actually shown you this,’ she said, and pushed the notebook across the table towards Freya, where it sat looking suspiciously like a can of worms.
Freya stared at it.
‘I’ll explain. I know you all thought I was weird when we were kids, especially Stephen—’
‘Stephen thought everyone was weird. . .’
Willow smiled at the memory of Sam’s brother. ‘Yes, maybe. But we all joked about it, me included. I know my mum was different from everyone else’s, but do you remember what she said just after you and Sam, well, you know, the Stephen thing.’
‘You can say it you know, Willow. After I dumped Sam, ran off with his brother and then jilted him at the altar,’ said Freya. ‘I vaguely remember it. Your mum said everything would come right in the end and that I’d get Sam back again one day. But everybody told me that, Willow; they were just trying to make me feel better. No-one was more surprised than me when it actually happened…’ She looked down at the notebook and then back up at Willow. ‘Actually, thinking about it, you weren’t that surprised when I told you what happened at Christmas…’
Willow picked up the book and eased off the tie that was holding it closed. She took out an envelope tucked between the pages and held it out to Freya.
‘Here it is in black and white,’ she said. ‘Mum sent me this letter at university, just after your wedding should have taken place. The first page is general chit chat and goings on in the village etcetera, but you might want to read the second page.’
Freya took the letter, looking bemused. It was a long time ago, after all. She took out the thin white sheets and began to read.
….I saw Freya in the village shop only yesterday, and she looked awful poor love. It was a brave thing to do though; Jenny and Sarah were in there, clearly talking about her. They stopped of course when they saw her but it was so obvious. I wanted to talk to her then to tell her that things would be okay, but by the time I’d paid for my things she’d gone. She must have legged it pretty quick, and who can blame her. Anyway, please tell her next time you see her, my dream was very explicit. It will take a long time, years even, but she was definitely with Sam, and it was definitely Christmas time, I could smell the pine from the tree like it was in the room with me. There was someone else there too, someone with black curly hair, but I couldn’t see any more…
Freya looked up in shock.
‘From what you told me that was pretty much how it happened wasn’t it?’ asked Willow.
Freya nodded mutely. ‘So Jessie knew,’ she continued. ‘She actually knew. . .’
Willow leaned over to touch Freya’s hand. ‘There were other things of course, things I never told you about back then; you all thought I was weird enough. I don’t blame you for not believing me, but to me she was just my mum.’
‘And just like her own mum I’m guessing?’ Freya said, eyeing the notebook still in Willow’s hands. ‘So that’s granny Gilly’s is it? Her book of spells.’
Willow looked at the ceiling. ‘I know it sounds far-fetched, but you should see what’s in here, Freya. Some amazing recipes apart from anything else, which is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. But aside from that there are some… well let’s just call them remedies shall we?’
Freya stayed silent for a moment, weighing up what she’d just been told. ‘So why am I here?’ she asked eventually.
Willow inhaled deeply, letting her breath out in a slow controlled movement.
‘Because I’ve had a few weird dreams of my own lately, nothing that momentous, but they’ve got me thinking about what we do here, or rather the potential for what we might do here. Once I started to think about it, I couldn’t stop… only I might need your help.’
‘Me?’ asked Freya, surprised. ‘What can I do?’
‘Well I heard on the grapevine that you and Sam are changing a few things at the orchard and that maybe you’re not going to be making cider anymore?’
Freya sighed. ‘The jungle drums work well, don’t they? My fault. When Sam and I got back together I didn’t realise quite how difficult it would be for him to up and leave the family business and his home. He’s totally committed to Appleyard now, but still, having his brother as our main competitor down the road wasn’t easy, and you know what Stephen’s like.’
‘Is he ever going to grow up do you think?’
‘Well, actually, it’s early days, but I think there might be some progress in that direction. There’s been something of a truce called lately, but I don’t count my chickens where Stephen is concerned. I thought moving away from cider production and into juices instead might help Sam feel more settled, more like it was our business and not just mine any longer.’
Willow took a sip of her drink. ‘And has it?’ she asked, over the rim of her glass.
Freya’s reply was immediate. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Just try stopping us now; we’ve got that many plans. A range of our own juices for definite, perhaps other products too, and we’re also goin
g to set up a community juice pressing service so that locals or other small growers like ourselves can come and press their own fruit.’
Willow’s grin was getting wider and wider by the minute.
‘I take it that was what you wanted to hear,’ laughed Freya.
‘It might be… Do you remember the ice cream I made for Louisa and Phillip’s ruby wedding anniversary? Well that was one of granny’s recipes, straight out of that notebook, and there are plenty more, all using the kind of soft fruits that I grow here. I thought I might try and have a go at making them again, properly I mean, to sell. What do you think? I could start with the gooseberry perhaps.’
Freya took another sip of her drink, holding the glass aloft and peering at the dew-coloured liquid. She squinted up at Willow. ‘I think you might need to borrow some of our elderflowers,’ she said, amused. ‘And what a totally brilliant idea!’
‘Well I’m not sure that ‘borrow’ is quite the right word, but if I could harvest your elderflowers, perhaps you might like to have some of the syrup I make back in return. You could use it for your own juices.’
‘Serendipity!’ Freya grinned. ‘Although I really don’t need anything in return, Willow. I didn’t put the elderflowers there, Mother Nature did… but, now that you come to mention it… apple and elderflower…mmmm.’
‘So do you think we might be able to come to some sort of an arrangement?’ asked Willow.
Freya sat back in her chair. ‘I’m certain we could. I’d want to run it by Sam of course, but it’s just the sort of thing he’d love, I know it. God this is exciting.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ nodded Willow. ‘And it could be just the thing we need.’
Freya paused for a moment, her face falling a little.
‘So I get why you’ve suddenly cleared this room out,’ she said, obviously wondering how much to say. ‘It would make a great workroom, but…’ she cocked her head on one side, watching Willow closely, ‘…earlier on you said this was all on the quiet, as if you didn’t want Jude to know about it. Is… is everything all right between you two?’
‘Oh God yes, it’s nothing like that. Well it sort of is, but not in the way you mean.’ She threw her hair back over her shoulder. ‘Let’s just say that I’m worried Jude is in danger of making some very bad decisions soon; business decisions, but ones that will affect our whole family. I’d like there to be an alternative, that’s all, but I don’t want to involve him until I’m sure it’s something worth pursuing.’
Freya raised her eyebrows. ‘Oh I get it, and then it will be his brilliant idea, right? That’s the oldest trick in the book, Willow,’ she smirked. ‘You get exactly what you want, but Jude thinks it was his idea all along.’
Willow smiled in reply. ‘Something like that,’ she said.
‘Well I won’t say a word, trust me. And I’ll make sure that Sam keeps his mouth shut too. I should probably let you get back to your strawberries now, but why don’t we meet up again one day in the week when Jude is at work, and then we can have a proper chat. There’s someone else I think you should have a word with while we’re about it. Someone who might also be able to help.’
‘Anyone I know?’
‘Oh yes, from way back, but let me have a chat to her first. If she’s up for it I might bring her along too.’
Willow rose from the table. ‘Well, now I’m intrigued.’
‘Good,’ winked Freya. ‘I’ll give you a ring, shall I?’
Chapter 3
Something wasn’t right here. Willow shouldn’t be able to feel the rain like this. Normally when she stood by this gate, the canopy of trees overhead protected her from the worst of the elements. It wasn’t until you reached the end of the wooded lane that the trees thinned out as the path sloped down towards to the clearing. Only then did you get a full view of the sky.
She shielded her face from the raindrops that the wind was whipping into her eyes and looked up, raking the skyline for any clue. Maybe she wasn’t where she thought she was, but the sky was inky black so there would be no help from the moon tonight. As she watched, an explosion of light struck out across the expanse of dark and she raised her shoulders, flinching in anticipation of the crashing noise that would surely follow as the lightning cracked open the night.
For a split second in the flare, the ground was illuminated before her, jagged scars cut through the fields, gouges through the pastoral landscape. Grasses, flowers, trees, all gone, just cracks of soil split wide, their muddy guts piled up in heaps. Willow could feel her feet oozing in the deep mud, rooting her to the spot, forcing her to look at the desecration in front of her.
She turned her head, another flash of lighting searing across her vision and this time row after row of houses stood, stretching out to the horizon, and above her head a huge wooden sign standing sentinel. She tried to pull her feet free from the soil, but as she struggled, sank ever deeper. The hairs pricked on the back of her neck, and panic rose in her throat…
Her breath came in heaving gasps as she woke, her nightdress heavy against her chest, sodden with her sweat, and it took her a few moments, eyes staring wildly out into the dark before Willow realised that she was safe, back in her room. She stretched out a hand to feel the smooth expanse of the sheets beneath her, the gentle cocoon of the pillow cradling her head. Beside her, Jude’s rhythmic breathing stalled for a moment and she held her breath, but then it released once more in a sigh and with a faint snuffle he resumed his peaceful sleep.
The clock beside the bed showed half past midnight; the dream had come quickly to Willow tonight, stronger than ever, and there was no longer any doubting its truth. She reached under her pillow and brought out the bundle of cloth which lay there, a small blue stone nestled within its folds. Even constrained within the soft muslin its message had been a powerful one, and she was careful to keep the lapis lazuli from touching her skin; to do so right now would cause it to burn her like fire.
Very gently she leaned across and slid open the drawer beside the bed, popping the bundle inside and, with a cautious glance at her husband, she lay back down and tried to calm both her mind and her breathing. Over the years there had been odd occasions when Willow had known without a shadow of doubt that things were going to happen, or she had seen things which had later come true. Intuition her mum had called it, being in tune with your feelings, and as a child Willow had been so used to her mum’s eccentricities that she never thought anything of it. The things Willow had seen could be explained away, the feelings passed off as well-informed hunches. There had never been anything like the dreams she was having now. These were vivid, powerful even, and the truth was that they scared Willow a little; not only because of their intensity but because of the message they brought. She felt for Jude’s fingers, feeling them close over hers as he slept. She looked at him fondly, but sadly.
Oh Jude, she sighed, what have you done…?
A cloud of fragrant steam was released into the hallway as Willow pulled open the door to let Freya pass through.
‘Blinking heck, you don’t hang around do you?’ she commented, breathing in the delicious fruity smell as she returned to the room she and Willow had sat in only a few days before. It was no longer bare, but instead had a new wooden work surface running the length of one wall and a huge cooker, set with bubbling pans.
‘That smells amazing,’ Freya remarked, crossing over to get a better look. She hung her head over one of the pans. ‘What exactly is in that?’
Willow came to stand beside her. ‘Gooseberries, lemons, sugar and elderflower cordial. Summer in a saucepan. What do you reckon?’
‘You got that right,’ she agreed. ‘Is that how your ice cream starts? Only much as I love that, I’d be quite happy spooning this lot up straight from the pan.’
‘You wouldn’t really. It smells divine, but it’s very, very sweet, and very, very sticky.’
Freya looked around her once more. ‘I don’t think I realised quite how quickly you were going to g
et this all up and running. What did you do, wave a magic wand?’
‘Naked incantations by the light of the moon… hardly…’ Willow laughed. ‘No, I waved a chocolate cake, a tub of ice cream, three punnets of strawberries and some runner beans under one of our friend’s noses, and being the wondrous carpenter that he is, he put this together in an afternoon.’
‘Ah, sorry,’ said Freya, acknowledging the slight admonishment. ‘Been reading too much Harry Potter.’
‘Besides,’ continued Willow, with a wink. ‘That is most definitely not why you perform naked incantations by moonlight…’ Her smile was warm as she took Freya’s arm. ‘And look, come and see these.’
She led the way over to the work surface where a pile of elderflowers were waiting. Beside them a muslin cloth was suspended over a large bowl, the syrupy mixture it contained slowly dripping through.
‘This is my cordial. You have to steep the flower heads for twenty four hours in the syrup before straining it, so I made this lot last night. I pretty much have to keep a batch going the whole time.’
Now that she was closer, Freya could smell the sweetness of the creamy flowers. There was nothing she liked more on a summer’s day than to wander through her orchard, the sunlight glancing off the hedgerows filled with these frothy heads. She picked up a bunch and inspected it closely before bringing it to her nose. The last time she’d done this, she’d inhaled a small bug straight up her nose.
‘So what do you think?’ asked Willow. ‘Am I mad, or do you think there’s a possibility that this might work?’
Freya’s head had done nothing but spin with ideas since she had left her friend at the weekend. With her and Sam’s own plans for Appleyard now beginning to look like reality, this was quite possibly the most amazing opportunity for them both, and for their friend Merry too if Freya wasn’t mistaken. Merry and Tom had only opened their shop a few weeks ago, and were now on the lookout for small local businesses whose produce they could showcase. The opportunity for them all to work together was serendipity indeed, and would give them all the helping hand they needed to fulfil their individual dreams about it all, of that she had no doubt.
