by Emma Davies
Freya’s dark head bobbed up from behind the screen and she laid the laptop to one side.
‘Sorry about that, but I’ve been trying to nail this particular paragraph all morning, and the perfect words suddenly came to me.’ She got up from the table and gave Willow a hug. ‘I’m like a thing possessed, but then I guess you feel that way too,’ she added.
Willow smiled at Sam as he handed her a cup of tea. ‘There never seem to be enough hours in the day. Everything I do spawns more and more jobs… I’ve never been so excited though. I can’t stop thinking about stuff, and even though things are getting done, I’ve a horrible feeling I’m getting carried away.’
Freya nodded repeatedly. ‘Oh yeah,’ she said. ‘Been there, done that… still there in fact.’ She laughed. ‘Look, I’ll show you.’
She took Willow’s arm, just as Sam butted in. ‘I’m going to leave you two for a bit and take my tea somewhere a little more peaceful, but I’ll come back and check on you in about half an hour, Willow, just to make sure you’re still with us. If you need me to come and rescue you before then just shout, okay?’ He winked at Freya. ‘Go easy on her… and remember to breathe.’
Freya picked up her pencil preparing to throw it as Sam ducked out of the room. ‘Cheeky sod, he’s just as excited as I am.’
‘So what are you up to now?’ asked Willow, sitting down and peering at the assortment of leaflets and brochures on the table.
Freya turned the laptop screen around to face her friend.
‘The Appleyard Community Juice Pressing Scheme,’ she announced proudly. ‘We’re not short of a few fruit trees here in Herefordshire as you know, and it suddenly struck me what a wonderful resource we have. There are loads of people around here who’d like to make their own juice but haven’t got the right equipment. Even a single tree in your garden is enough - one bucket load of apples could make about five bottles of juice, and we’ll pasteurise it too so it will last for about a year.’
Willow looked at the vibrant images on the screen. She scratched the side of her nose. ‘But don’t you want people to buy the juice you make?’
‘Of course,’ grinned Freya. ‘But this way we get the best of both worlds. We’ll make and sell our own juice products, with a little help from you of course, and by aiming these products at carefully selected retailers we won’t be saturating the market locally which will give the range more of a specialty feel to it. People will still have to pay for the pressing service, so that will generate additional income, keep our machines running and, with any luck, score us some brownie points with the local community, especially if we stress the fundraising possibilities for groups who want to press juice for a profit themselves.’ She looked down fondly at the screen. ‘It might also result in even more sales, perversely. Just suppose you press your own juice, proudly take home your bottles and then drink them over the course of the next few weeks. Where are you going to get more from, now that you’ve developed a taste for the fresh stuff?’
‘Ah… clever,’ said Willow. ‘You know that actually makes sense. What a brilliant idea.’
‘I know,’ replied Freya, beaming. ‘I’m a genius. Seriously though, it does make sound business sense, but I like the whole idea of the community thing too. I feel like I’ve been given a second chance with Appleyard, and I’d like to keep that luck running if I can.’
Willow looked down at the table again. ‘And this is research is it?’
‘Mainly,’ replied Freya. ‘Information from other companies offering a similar service, but I’ve also got brochures here giving all the technical specifications for our equipment as well. We might be asked all sorts of questions by prospective users of the scheme and I don’t want to be caught napping. We could need to be pressing as early as August and that doesn’t give us much time to get all our marketing information out there and be ready for business.’
‘So you need to know where I am with Willowberries?’
Freya nodded. ‘I just love that name,’ she sighed. ‘We make such a perfect combination don’t we? Appleyard Juices and Willowberries nectar, it’s almost as if it was meant to be – I mean who wouldn’t want to buy us?’
Willow fished in the bag she had brought with her, carefully pulling out a cardboard box and laying it on the table in front of her. Wrapped around it was a vibrantly printed sleeve of cardboard the exact colour of a dusky Victoria plum. A froth of white elderflowers trailed across one corner, curling around the lettering that formed the company name. She looked at Freya’s astonished face.
‘Go on, open it,’ she said.
Freya moved her laptop further to one side and slid the box towards her. ‘I daren’t, it’s too beautiful,’ she replied, running her fingers across the surface. ‘Is this one of the sample boxes that you were talking about?’
Willow’s smile was wide. ‘They turned out better than I could ever have hoped. They were Peter’s idea, but Henry did all the design work of course, and his girlfriend gave me the name of the people she uses for packaging.’
‘And Merry has sent these out to the list of folk that she knows?’
‘Some of them, yes, about twenty in all to start with. It was a pretty long list, but we picked some retailers, some hotels and a couple of restaurants too. All people she’s dealt with before and recommends. Fingers crossed we get one or two bites.’
Freya looked down at the box in front of her. ‘I’d eat this,’ she grinned. ‘It looks good enough.’
Carefully, she removed the sleeve from the outside, and levered open the lid of the box. A subtle waft of summery fragrance rose up. She inhaled happily. ‘Mmm, what’s this?’ she queried.
‘Elderflower oil, dabbed onto the bottom of the box. I thought it would help to appeal to all the senses,’ said Willow.
‘Oh God, I’m fairly drooling…’
She lifted out a small bottle from the box, a lime green label swinging from its neck. Drink Me it read.
I am elderflowers, gathered when the sun warms the blooms and bees dance in the hedgerows.
I am steeped with sugar and juicy Sicilian lemons.
I am Willowberries Elderflower Nectar.
Next a tiny jar emerged with a label bearing the instruction Eat Me.
I am fat strawberries that dribble down your chin, gathered from a field where sylarks sing.
I’ve begged a little lemon juice, sugar, and elderflower cordial to keep me company.
I am Willowberries Strawberry and Elderflower Preserve.
Freya set this gently to one side, bringing out the last of the tiny containers, this time a small pot with a vibrant plum label. Imagine me, it read.
I am gooseberries, golden orbs bursting in the morning sun.
I am singing with sugar and elderflower cordial and whipped into soft velvety peaks of double cream.
I am Willowberries Gooseberry and Elderflower Cream Ice.
She sat back in her chair, for a moment totally lost for words. Willow was studying her, trying to read her expression.
‘The labels are just a little bit of folly,’ supplied Willow. ‘I thought they might add to the sense of magic; you know like Alice in Wonderland…’
‘Willow these are inspired! I’ve never seen anything like this, but what a fantastic idea, it works beautifully.’
‘There’s some literature in there as well, giving details of the available flavours, ingredients, as well as how they’re made. I’ve tasted so many cordials and eaten so much ice cream this week I’ll be the size of a house soon, but fortunately for my waistline this is the final list, well for the time being anyway. We’ve settled on eight flavours of ice cream to start with and six different cordials, together with nine types of preserves and curds.’
It had taken Willow quite some time to decide which of her favourite recipes to concentrate on, but she knew that if they were to have any chance of success she had to keep things simple. The number of flavours was sensible, and as they were seasonal, it would give them the opportunit
y to concentrate on each, one at a time, until they were really up and running. They were a mixture of the traditional and the more exotic, a little risky potentially, but Willow wanted to provide not just the familiar, but the enticing too. Her lemon and rose geranium cordial might sound unusual, but she’d buy a bottle just for the colour alone.
‘These sound amazing,’ grinned Freya, looking at the stylish literature. ‘I can’t wait to try them.’
‘Well some of the flavours I can get to you straight away, but the rosehips for example won’t be available until the autumn. You’ll just have to take my word for how gorgeous it is.’
‘The main thing is that I get an idea of what you’re going to produce. There will be plenty of time for us to experiment with our fruit juice blends later in the year. We won’t be harvesting for months yet, but that’s the beauty of it. It will give you time to start producing and we’ll be busy juicing other people’s fruit until our own are ready to harvest.’
‘I’m going to see Merry later to take her some more literature too, so she can help promote Willowberries through the shop. I’d like her opinion on a few other things as well; she knows so much about merchandising.’
Freya sucked in a quick breath. ‘Did she tell you she’s got someone coming to see her from Country Living? How amazing is that?’
Willow stared at her. ‘What, the Country Living? As in the magazine? How on earth did she manage that?’
‘Sheer fluke I think. A reporter did a piece on the shop for the local paper, talking about the artist who owned it before and how Merry has breathed new life into it by paying homage to him. Someone from the magazine spotted the article whilst they were staying with some relative or another for a wedding down here. I haven’t got the whole story. They only called yesterday, and Merry was a tad excited when she told me.’ She grinned at Willow. ‘I could hardly understand a word she was saying…’
‘I bet,’ she laughed. ‘What wonderful publicity for her though, and such a stroke of luck.’
‘Merry seemed to think that Christopher himself might have had something to do with it,’ winked Freya. ‘I did point out that he’d been dead for a couple of years, but that didn’t seem to deter her.’
‘Maybe she’s found her guardian angel,’ replied Willow. ‘Stranger things have happened.’ She thought back to the bleak time in Freya’s life just after her father died and the transformation that had been brought about by her dark, curly-haired stranger.
Freya nodded, clearly understanding her meaning. ‘Stranger things indeed,’ she said. ‘So who’s your guardian angel then, Willow?’
A worried frown crossed Willow’s face. ‘I’d like to say maybe my grandma Gilly, but I’m not sure there’s anyone watching over me right now,’ she said seriously. ‘I’m running out of time, so if they’re out there it would be nice if they could make their presence felt a bit sharpish.’
‘Are you still having those dreams?’ asked Freya, a concerned note to her voice.
Willow nodded. ‘More and more. Always the same. And Jude is definitely up to something, he’s like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof, and he’s working harder than ever. I’ve barely seen him.’
‘Maybe you should talk to him, Willow. Then at least you’d know where you are, and what you’re up against.’
Willow shook her head violently this time. ‘No. Not until I’m certain. Not until I’m ready with all of this. I have to prove to him that this could work for us.’
Willow closed her eyes momentarily. She was getting scared now. The dreams were getting stronger and stronger, still most often at night, but now during the day as well, with an intensity that made her feel quite sick. She had been washing up a couple of nights ago when Jude had come into the kitchen and slid his arms around her waist. The sudden shock of the images which had forced their way into her mind had nearly taken her legs from under her, and had Jude not been there to catch her, she would have fallen. It had taken all her powers of persuasion to convince him not to call a doctor, so how could she confide in him now? He’d think her ill, or worse, mad, and she would never be able to convince him that her fledgling business was worth pursuing.
She gave Freya a bright smile, knowing that she disproved of her silence as far as Jude was concerned. ‘I’ll have a chat to him soon; I’d like to get a few more things underway first, that’s all, and then I’ll hit him with my amazing ideas and business prowess. He won’t be able to believe it.’
The look on Freya’s face was far from convinced but she returned Willow’s smile anyway.
‘Give my love to Merry won’t you,’ she said, changing the subject. ‘I can’t wait to hear all the gossip about the magazine.’
‘Merry will be going nuts, making sure every little detail is perfect, but she’s been such a star helping me out, she deserves to have a massive success on her hands.’
‘So do we all,’ remarked Freya. ‘Don’t you think? It’s been quite a year one way or another, and it’s not over yet, not by a long chalk.’
Chapter 11
‘These are literally walking out of the door,’ said Merry, standing back proudly to admire her display. ‘I’d say a good part of the village is having strawberries with their tea tonight, and I can’t say I blame them. Don’t they look gorgeous… and the smell…’ she breathed in deeply.
Willow fanned her face. It was warm in the shop now that the afternoon sun was streaming through the door, but Merry was right, it brought out the smell of the ripe fruit beautifully.
‘I’ve been telling everybody who comes in that we’re going to be selling more of your produce soon, and so far the reaction has been very positive. I think it might be the weather, but people’s eyes light up when I mention ice cream or your cordials. You’re definitely onto a winner there.’
She motioned for Willow to follow her through into the back room.
‘I thought I could put the freezer here, and by moving this stand around I can fit in some shelving next to it where I can display your full range in time. What do you think?’ she asked. ‘Of course they’ll marry beautifully with Freya and Sam’s juices come the autumn.’
Willow stared at the room around her, feeling quite overcome with emotion. ‘I’m absolutely gobsmacked, Merry. I can’t believe that you’ve done all this for me. It’s perfect.’ Her eyes were shining, but she made no move to wipe the tears away.
Merry clasped her hands. ‘It’s perfect for us too, you know. The shop needed something to make it stand out—’ She caught sight of Willow’s face and laughed. ‘Yes, apart from the décor! We needed to find a niche in the market that would set us above being simply the village shop. I wanted this place to be something special, and you and Freya have provided the perfect start for us. I’ve spent the last few days touring the villages and towns locally, and I’ve found the most amazing suppliers, from cheeses, to wines and everything else in between, and all from small businesses within a twenty mile radius. I want to turn us into a gourmet food centre. We can offer the products online, and do food demonstrations and—’ She stopped suddenly. ‘What’s the matter, Willow? Are you okay?’
Willow was aware that her mouth had dropped open. She closed it, a huge grin immediately swamping her face as a tide of excitement swept over her. ‘I don’t suppose you need any extra space for these demonstrations… or courses even…’
Merry narrowed her eyes. ‘Why, what are you thinking?’ she asked.
‘Only that Peter and I were chatting the other day, like you, trying to come up with something that might make us a bit different from the competition. Purely by chance, one of his friends gave us the most brilliant idea.’
‘Go on,’ said Merry, intrigued.
‘I had a few of Peter’s friends over for a day recently to help us pick elderflowers and gooseberries. One of them, a young girl, seemed quite nervous to start with, but as the day went on, forgive the pun, she really blossomed. I’ve just had a message from her to say thanks for giving her the opportunity to
help out, and how much she had enjoyed the experience. It struck me that we could offer residential cookery courses or retreats, perhaps in exchange for help to make our products. We could incorporate all kinds of things so that people learn new skills or have a chance to brush up on old ones, and while we’re doing that, we get a ready workforce. We’ve got that huge barn we could transform as time goes on, and if any of your suppliers would be willing to come and teach their skills as well, then—’
It was Merry’s turn to have her mouth drop open. ‘Oh, my God,’ she said slowly. ‘We have to make this work, Willow. Country Living are going to love this! They want to talk to me about what we’ve already done here, but also what plans we have in the future to develop the shop. They’re very keen on the flourishing rural business angle. If we can come up with ways like this of linking all our businesses, it would be perfect.’
‘When are they coming?’ Willow breathed.
‘Next Friday, a little over a week away. We’ve probably just got time to pull something together for them. It doesn’t have to be concrete, but we would need to show how it might work, how we would set it up in principle, what resources we have, that kind of thing. Would that be possible, do you think, or are we just plain mad?’
Willow gave an excited squeal. ‘Mad!’ She laughed. ‘Mad as March bloody hares, but we have to do this Merry, we have to!’
