Foxglove Farm

by Christie Barlow

  ‘Me too,’ replied Felicity, grabbing the tea towel and drying the plates on the draining board. ‘It must have been thousands of cups of tea,’ she said and smiled at her mum.

  ‘And you best turn that sign around, otherwise we’ll have no customers today.’ Rona nodded towards the door. ‘Is Isla okay?’

  ‘She will be,’ answered Felicity, walking towards the door.

  As soon as she flicked the sign over to ‘Open’ and returned to the kitchen, the old-fashioned bell chimed to signal a customer. Rona was expecting an influx of customers today, as Julia who ran the village’s B&B had informed her she was already full to the brim this week with a rambling club all the way from Staffordshire. As soon as the weather became warmer the teashop was always busy with hikers grabbing a packed lunch before setting off on their trek over the Scottish Highlands.

  ‘I could murder a cuppa and a slice of toast.’

  Immediately on hearing the voice, Rona screwed up her eyes and stared, ‘No way! It can’t be …’

  ‘Yes, way!’ There in the doorway stood an elderly woman, wearing a shabby green coat that hung from her tiny frame, thick black tights that were laddered at the knee and a pair of chunky Doc Martens shoes. She looked around seventy, short and plump with her grey wispy hair wound up in a bun, and she had a huge beam on her face.

  Immediately Rona stood up and flung her arms open wide and hugged the woman. ‘Martha Gray! Where the hell have you been? How lovely to see you! It must be at least …’

  ‘Too long to remember,’ interrupted Martha.

  Felicity was scrutinising her mum’s face for clues to who this woman was, as Rona turned towards Felicity.

  ‘Martha … it’s Martha … Isla’s grandmother, your Grandmother Bonnie’s best friend,’ said Rona. But by the time Rona had jogged Felicity’s memory, Martha was already kissing her on both cheeks.

  ‘Oh my, so it is!’ Felicity hadn’t seen Martha since she’d moved away to London eight years ago. She’d lost a lot of weight and seemed shorter than Felicity recalled. She remembered her working in the teashop alongside her grandmother years ago.

  ‘Well … where is she?’ said Martha, straining her neck and casting a glance over the teashop. For a second Felicity thought she meant Isla until she added, ‘My old partner in crime, surely she hasn’t taken the day off … I’ve never known Bonnie Stewart to take a day off before.’

  Rona felt puzzled and looked towards Felicity as the penny dropped. Rona swallowed a lump in her throat and took a deep breath. ‘She’s gone, Martha … she’s gone.’

  ‘What, to the shops? … Over to Glensheil for the day?’

  Rona shook her head, ‘No, Martha … there’s no easy way to say this … Mum passed away.’

  As the words registered, Martha slumped into a chair and unbuttoned her coat. ‘I can’t take this in … when did this happen?’ She gulped back a sob, dabbing her face with a tissue from her pocket.

  ‘Christmas time,’ replied Rona, taking her coat and hanging it on the stand in the corner of the teashop.

  ‘I’m so sorry for your loss. I know I’ve not been around for a while, but she was always my best friend, you know. I had visions of us running riot over in Glensheil on my return. Surely the nightlife is still the same over the bridge … gin nights and late-night parties are all the rage nowadays, knit and natter is so last year and way too tame these days.’

  ‘I’m sure if she was still here, she wouldn’t have hesitated to join you.’ Rona couldn’t help but smile. Martha had always had a zest for life and lived every day like it was her last. It didn’t matter how long Martha was away from Heartcross, she always slotted straight back in, like she’d never been away.

  Many years ago, Bonnie and Martha had been inseparable, thick as thieves, and for a short time Martha had worked in the old teashop alongside Bonnie when the rambling trade was soaring. The teashop was the last stop on Love Heart Lane before the stile that led the ramblers over the heather-wreathed glens, beautiful waterfalls and majestic mountains. The climb was one of spectacular scenery.

  Martha had last been seen in the village last spring. It had been a fresh, crisp morning when a gang of ramblers had fallen into the teashop before a five-hour hike. And that’s when Martha had met Walt, in the teashop over eggs benedict. Later that evening he’d changed his walking trousers and boots to an outfit of brown tweed jacket, checked shirt and navy corduroys … and that had been that. After their very first date she’d stepped down as chair for the Women’s Institute, had removed herself from the parish council and had done a moonlight flit with Walter, leaving Isla to report her as a missing person until a postcard had landed on her doormat all the way from a Caribbean cruise.

  ‘Taken too soon,’ Martha was muttering over and over again.

  ‘Let me get you a coffee?’

  ‘I need something stronger, I’m in shock.’

  ‘Nothing changes,’ Rona mouthed to Felicity.

  ‘Sherry,’ said Martha, ‘or whisky?’

  ‘Go and pour a whisky from the decanter on the sideboard,’ Rona whispered.

  Felicity nodded and soon returned with the amber-looking liquid in a crystal glass.

  ‘Rest in peace, dear Bonnie,’ Martha said, swirling the whisky around in the glass before necking it in one gulp.

  Felicity winced at the very thought of the burn in the back of the throat.

  ‘Does Isla know you are coming?’ asked Felicity, taking a swift glance towards the bathroom door, thinking that Isla hadn’t mentioned her grandmother’s return.

  ‘I thought I’d surprise her,’ answered Martha.

  They were both in no doubt that Isla would be in complete surprise, especially after Martha had upped and left the village to live life to the max.

  Martha had been Isla’s only real family left in Heartcross. Years ago, Isla’s parents had emigrated to New Zealand, but Isla hadn’t wanted to leave the village or Drew and had moved into the farmhouse with his family.

  ‘You do know you have two great-grandchildren now, don’t you?’

  ‘What … two … When did that happen?’

  Rona nodded her head towards the sleeping baby in the pram. ‘When you were travelling around the world …’ said Rona, raising her eyebrows. ‘Or doing whatever you’ve been doing all this time.’

  ‘Two boys,’ chipped in Felicity. ‘Finn has a brother, Angus.’

  Martha peered inside the pram, ‘And this is him?’ she said, overwhelmed.

  ‘It sure is.’

  ‘Well I never,’ she exclaimed, reaching for his tiny hand.

  As Isla stepped back into the teashop, she stopped dead in her tracks. Immediately Isla recognised the shabby coat, the Doc Martens boots. ‘Gran, is that you?’

  Martha spun round and flung her arms open to a rather flabbergasted Isla, whose jaw had dropped somewhere below her knees.

  ‘It most definitely is!’

  ‘Granny … what the …’ She stopped to catch her breath. ‘What are you doing here? And where’s Walter, is he with you?’ she asked, quickly scanning the teashop.

  ‘Always asking questions!’ Martha kissed her granddaughter on both cheeks. ‘What do you mean, what am I doing here? I’ve come to stay. I knew you’d be so happy to see me.’

  ‘Stay? How long for?’

  ‘You know what, dear granddaughter, I think this time I’m back for good.’

  Martha enveloped Isla in the tightest hug ever, and as Isla struggled to breathe she locked eyes with Felicity. Over her gran’s shoulder she mouthed wearily, ‘Back for good? Forget the tea, I’m in need of that gin.’

  Chapter 3

  Finally releasing her granddaughter from her tight grip, Martha swooped straight into the pram and planted a noisy, sloppy kiss on to Angus’s head. His warm body wriggled in her arms as she inhaled his baby smell.

  ‘Isn’t he just the best? Angus … what a good Scottish name. Me and you are going to be the best of friends.’

  Isla fe
lt perplexed. Angus was now three months old and there had been no interest from Martha for all that time, and suddenly they were going to be the best of friends? And never mind Finn, who was six years old and hadn’t seen his great-gran in the last twelve months! And now she was acting like the doting granny. Of course, Isla had thought about trying to contact her when Angus was born, but she hadn’t a clue where to begin. Martha wasn’t one for staying in one place for a long time. From experience Isla knew her granny was of a flighty nature and goodness knows where she was or what was ever going on in her life. But one thing she knew for sure was that eventually she’d turn up again.

  ‘I can’t take my eyes off him,’ Martha was still gazing adoringly at Angus.

  ‘Gran … are you serious … are you back for good?’ Isla had to ask, as the realisation of her words had well and truly sunken in after the initial shock.

  Martha jerked her head towards Rona, ‘You’d think my granddaughter wasn’t happy to see me.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Isla added quickly, but the look on her face said it all. ‘A bit more notice wouldn’t go amiss. Have you booked into the B&B? Julia never mentioned it.’

  Martha threw back her head and laughed. ‘The B&B? Why would I want to stay there when I can stay with my beautiful granddaughter?’

  The words hit Isla like a high-speed train. She wasn’t sure if she could muster up enough energy to wait on another house guest, and what was Drew going to say? Not that he had anything against Martha, but his mood was a little unpredictable lately.

  ‘I’ll have to make up the spare room.’

  ‘I can help with that,’ said Martha, gently rocking Angus in her arms before safely placing him back inside the pram.

  ‘And where’s Walter? Will he be joining you?’ asked Isla, suddenly panicking that there were going to be two unexpected house guests.

  Martha shook her head. ‘Walter … He’s long gone … I’ve seen the last of him. One minute he was contentedly reading the Daily Mail like he did every morning with his cup of tea, and next he was on a train to Brighton, with that floozy Jennifer from the corner shop, and that was that.’

  ‘What do you mean, that was that?’

  ‘They ran off together … and I took myself off on holiday with Fred with the cash he’d forgotten to take from the kitchen drawer.’

  ‘Fred … who’s Fred?’

  ‘No-one important … After Fred, I hooked up with Greg for a while, but he was old before his time and then …’

  ‘I think I get the picture,’ cut in Isla in amazement.

  ‘It doesn’t matter how old you get, Isla … love isn’t guaranteed to run smoothly and that’s why I’m here …’

  After this morning Isla knew that only too well. ‘To mend your broken heart?’

  ‘Far from it … I’m back because I miss my family … it’s been too long … and I can’t keep gallivanting all over the world … it’s time I settled back down, and where else is home?’

  Isla’s eyes widened and she swallowed hard. It was tough enough looking after two small children, never mind a whirlwind of a granny who had more energy than all of them put together.

  ‘I knew you’d be happy and welcome me back with open arms. Just think of me as a babysitter on tap, isn’t that every new mum’s dream? … You won’t even know I’m here.’

  Isla had her doubts and swung a glance towards Felicity, who gave her a forced sympathetic smile.

  ‘I’ve brought a few bits and pieces with me … they are in the car.’

  Everyone took a swift glance towards the Union Jack-roofed mini parked outside. It was bursting at the seams with Martha’s belongings and it looked like her whole life was packed into the small car.

  ‘Gran, that looks more than a few bits and pieces.’ Isla felt herself physically slump. She’d already had quite a morning of it, and after the row with Drew she felt this was yet more pressure. Life was hard enough with two young children, a husband and a farm to run, and now there was another person thrown into the mix.

  ‘And I can’t wait to see Drew and Finn,’ said Martha, quickly swerving the conversation.

  ‘They will be pleased to see you, too,’ said Isla, stumbling over her words while taking a gurgling Angus back out of the pram. She gave him a cuddle while she mixed the milk powder with water in his baby bottle and fastened his bib around his neck.

  ‘He is just adorable,’ Martha gave her granddaughter such a huge smile and Isla felt a little guilty for not sounding more welcoming, but things were tough at the moment and the argument with Drew was still fresh in her mind.

  ‘Would you like one of these,’ asked Martha, rustling in her pocket, whipping out a Werther’s Original and waving it in front of Angus.

  ‘Gran! He can’t eat one of those … what are you thinking?’

  Martha chuckled, ‘Relax! I was joking. As if I’d offer a tiny baby such a thing.’

  Isla exhaled with relief.

  ‘I think strong coffee is needed all round,’ suggested Felicity. ‘And you’ve not finished your breakfast,’ she added, looking at Isla.

  In the last few minutes Isla had completely lost her appetite. This wasn’t the start to her day she’d anticipated, but as there was no such thing as a time machine, she would have to get through the best she could.

  ‘You need to keep up your strength,’ Martha’s bony fingers wrapped around Isla’s arm, ‘there’s no meat on those bones, and what’s with the hair?’

  Isla’s hair was scraped back into a simple, easy-to-manage ponytail and she hadn’t applied any make-up for weeks. Isla knew that since Angus was born she’d let herself go a little but she didn’t need anyone reminding her of it, especially in public. But what was the point of having a full face of make-up and immaculate hair? Who was she trying to impress? As Isla thought about what her grandmother had just said, a slight niggle loomed inside her. Might this be the real cause of Drew’s anger? Maybe he didn’t find her attractive anymore. But immediately she knew she was being ridiculous; Drew had seen her at her worst and it wasn’t as though he was dolled up to the nines every day in his dung-stained overalls.

  ‘Any more compliments you fancy dishing out, Gran?’

  Martha ignored her sarcastic tone.

  ‘It’s a good job I arrived back when I did.’

  Isla wasn’t one hundred percent convinced.

  Chapter 4

  Polly Cook huffed and puffed her way up Love Heart Lane towards the teashop, welcoming the light breeze sweeping through her hair. There hadn’t been many hills to climb in London, and the only exercise she ever got there had been walking down the stairs to the cellar to change a barrel in the Chatty Banker, the pub she’d managed up until a week ago before she’d descended on Felicity. Or the 193 steps at Covent Garden tube station.

  Everyone looked up as Polly pushed open the door to the teashop.

  ‘That walk looks like it’s done you the world of good,’ said Felicity, knowing that Polly had tossed and turned all night.

  ‘It did, it’s so peaceful down by the river,’ she said, slipping off her coat and draping it around the back of the chair.

  ‘And who is this?’ asked Martha, narrowing her eyes. ‘I’ve not seen you around these parts before.’

  Polly met the gaze of the elderly woman, but before anyone could answer, a loud squelchy noise erupted from inside the pram.

  ‘Eww … I can smell that from here,’ said Felicity, looking into the pram and wrinkling her nose.

  ‘Polly Cook, meet my gran, Martha Gray, who didn’t make that squelchy noise, by the way.’

  Polly grinned, ‘Please to meet you.’

  Martha gave her a smile and a nod of the head. ‘Bad timing! I think this little fellow could do with a nappy change.’

  Polly quickly took a step back, ‘I’m not used to such little people.’

  ‘Give him to me, I’ll do it,’ said Martha, stretching out her arms, much to Polly and Felicity’s relief.

  Isla loo
ked alarmed, ‘Gran, do you know how to change a nappy?’

  ‘It’s like riding a bike.’

  Isla narrowed her eyes, ‘I can’t ever remember you actually riding a bike.’

  ‘Fair point, neither can I,’ grinned Martha, immediately retracting her hands.

  ‘Give the wee fellow here,’ offered Rona.

  ‘I can do it,’ said Isla.

  ‘You take advantage of my offer,’ insisted Rona, slinging the nappy bag over her shoulder and holding Angus at arm’s length before disappearing towards the bathroom.

  ‘And tell me more about you, Polly. What brings you to Heartcross?’ asked Martha, turning her attentions back to Polly.

  ‘Polly’s my friend from London, she’s staying with us for a while,’ Felicity replied.

  ‘I’m at a loose end, a very loose end. I’ve been made redundant and lost my home at the same time. I lived above the pub I managed, but it was sold to a new owner and they moved their family in and didn’t need extra staff. That’s why I’m here, a change of scenery, a break from the rat-race of the city, and I’m loving this beautiful village.’

  ‘This is the best village, I’ve travelled in my time but always come home and …’ Martha turned back towards Isla, ‘I can’t wait to get settled in the farmhouse. Am I in my normal room?’ she asked. ‘You know, the gorgeous English rose room with the triangular floral bunting draped across of the wall. I do love good bunting … and the view … the view from that room is spectacular. Earth to Isla … are you listening, you’re in a world of your own.’

  Isla’s thoughts were tumbling over each other in her mind. A wave of worry ricocheted through her body at the very thought of going home with her gran in tow. The room was jam-packed full with baby paraphernalia. Anything and everything was stuffed in that room while the nursery was being decorated, which had been an on-going project for the last six months. Where were they going to put everything that her gran had packed into her car? She could visualise the disgruntled look on Drew’s face if things needed to be piled up in their bedroom for a while, but hopefully his day had turned around and whatever bee he’d had in his bonnet had well and truly flown away. She didn’t feel like getting stung by another argument today.