Foxglove Farm

by Christie Barlow

  ‘Honestly, it’s not a problem, I could do with the extra cash and it’s no hardship working in a place like this with spectacular scenery,’ he said, taking his phone out of his pocket as it beeped. He took a quick glance at the screen then quickly tucked it away in his pocket.

  ‘Everything okay?’ asked Isla.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I’m ready for that pint.’

  ‘Are you coming?’ Rory asked Isla.

  ‘No, I’m just collecting a few things for Drew, then I’ll head back to Aggie’s to put the boys to bed.’

  Rory nodded, and he and Nate headed along the driveway.

  Isla let herself into the house. Everywhere seemed dark and dingy and for the first time it didn’t feel like home. She felt like she was trespassing as she switched on the table lamp in Drew’s study before pulling open the drawer in his desk. She took out the folders that were all neatly labelled – water, gas, electricity, bank statements – and stacked them up in front of her.

  Firstly, she flipped open the blue wallet and thumbed through the insurance paperwork. The home insurance policies went back ten years, all with the same insurance company. Isla couldn’t find any new policy. She poured herself a strong coffee before opening the next file.

  Everything seemed in order – all the cars, the farm vehicles and animals were insured, and nothing seemed untoward. So why would Drew cancel the policy? Maybe it was a genuine mistake by the insurance company, a computer error. All she could was talk to Drew when she visited him tomorrow.

  Isla opened the drawer on the other side of the desk and was taken aback; there she found unopened envelopes stuffed on top of each other and an old accounts book with numerous sheets of paper slipped inside. She cleared a large space on the desk and stared in horror at the paperwork in front of her.

  Isla had always left the farm business to Drew, who’d always seemed capable of taking care of the farm, in fact he’d always insisted on it. But Isla felt suddenly dazed, an entire stock of emotions running through her body. What the hell was going on here? How had Drew let things slide so badly? This wasn’t like him at all. There was no denying these accounts were in a terrible state. They looked like they hadn’t been kept updated in a long time. She began to rifle through the loose bits of paper, receipts and invoices, trying to sort them out into date order. She’d no clue if any of the invoices had been paid, there seemed to be no logical system at all. ‘Oh Drew,’ she mumbled under her breath, then let out a long shuddering sigh.

  Slurping her coffee, she would have preferred a very large gin and tonic as she powered up her laptop. There was only one thing for it, she’d have to start right at the very beginning and go back to basics. Month by month Isla deciphered the figures and began to enter the data on to the screen. In the middle of the table she made a pile of invoices that she wasn’t entirely sure about; she would need to ask Drew whether they had been paid or not.

  Two hours later Isla’s mood plummeted to an all-time low as she discovered a number of unopened red-letter bills stuffed in the back of the book. Why hadn’t Drew opened any of these? Some even had ‘Final Demand’ stamped all over them. The more envelopes Isla opened, the more she began to worry. She felt sick to her stomach. They owed money everywhere. The only thing that seemed to be paid on time was Fergus’s wages.

  Isla collapsed in the chair as a feeling of dread engulfed her. Things started to make sense, was this why Drew’s moods were erratic? Was this why he was adamant she needed to get a job, because their finances were all over the place? Isla contemplated how they were going to get out of this mess, they were about to lose the farm and in order to make ends meet, they needed a miracle to happen. And as a lottery win wasn’t looking likely, Isla had no choice, she would have to go back to work.

  Isla exhaled and took another look. She was getting angrier and angrier by the second as she found more and more invoices that hadn’t been paid. No wonder Drew had been getting tetchier as time went on. How on earth had he been able to sleep at night? And how was he planning to put all this right … by robbing a bank?

  Isla noticed, from what she could decipher from the mess of the paperwork, that the farm had begun to lose revenue when the bridge had collapsed, which made sense. The tankers hadn’t been able to get into Heartcross to transport the milk, and thousands and thousands of gallons had been lost. But what Isla didn’t understand was why Drew was keeping all this to himself. When was he going to tell her, the day the bailiffs knocked on the door? How dare he do this to her and her boys?

  Isla needed to take control and face up to things, and fast. First, she needed to work out which bills were of most importance and which ones they could pay. The only obvious way out of this mess was to try and bring in some more income, but with Drew out of action that seemed impossible. She glanced at her phone and noticed two missed calls from Martha, who must be wondering where she was.

  ‘Sorry Gran, phone was on silent. I’m still at the farm. Will be back soon,’ she texted, not wanting to talk to anyone at this moment in time. She felt so livid with Drew and tears of frustration blinded her. Isla knew she couldn’t cope with much more. She wondered again, why had Drew hidden this from her, and if he could hide this from her, what else hadn’t he told her? She began to question whether she knew her husband at all.

  Shutting down her laptop and taking her empty coffee cup back to the kitchen, she blew the ash off the local paper that was lying on the kitchen table. Isla perused the job section. Granted it was full of jobs, but ones with unsociable hours or not enough hours and none that filled her with any excitement. Taking a broken crayon from Finn’s pencil case, she circled the shop-assistant post in the chip shop over in Glensheil, followed by a cleaner in a care home. She took one last look at the paper before letting out a breath.

  Isla suspected she couldn’t be fussy and would need to secure any type of employment to try and make ends meet. But she’d also have to wait until Drew was back on his feet and could take over the running of the farm again. And if Martha upped and left anytime soon, these jobs wouldn’t even cover childcare costs. They would barely have two pennies to rub together.

  Isla knew she needed to come up with a plan B, but she just didn’t know what that was yet, and she was so tired she couldn’t even think straight. How dare Drew do this to them. She didn’t even want to see him tomorrow, she didn’t even know what she was going to say to him, he’d left her completely speechless.

  As Isla locked the door behind her, emotion poured through her body and tears brimmed her eyes. Foxglove Farm was her life … was her family’s life. She stood on the doormat and looked up at the picturesque farmhouse that had been in Drew’s family for generations and took a breath. The thought of losing it filled her with fear. If those accounts were anything to go by, it was certainly a realistic possibility. This was their home and their livelihood, and Drew had let it spiral out of control without even confiding in her. She’d gone looking for an insurance policy that didn’t exist and had uncovered a nightmare.

  Isla sullenly ambled up the long path and stared out over the fields. She could see the alpacas grazing, mingling with the sheep. No wonder Drew had gone ballistic when she’d bought them. But what she didn’t understand was why Drew had stopped paying the bills when there was still money in their bank account. None of this made sense. Isla gazed up at the majestic scenery beyond the lush farmland. The landscape was beautiful – rolling hills, thick woodlands, towering mountains and glittering lochs. She spotted far-off goats rambling up the hillside and stood and watched for a second.

  The depressing truth was, she was about to lose everything she had ever loved and believed in, and the way she was feeling right now, that included Drew too.

  Chapter 19

  Isla ended the call to the hospital, who confirmed that Drew had had a comfortable night. This morning they were redressing the burns and it was possible that the doctor would discharge him in the next couple of days. Isla knew he was already fed up to
the back teeth lying in the hospital bed because he hadn’t stopped texting since the minute she’d turned on her phone, but as yet Isla hadn’t replied to him because she wanted to reduce the temptation of saying something she shouldn’t.

  Everyone was sitting around the kitchen table when Isla ventured downstairs carrying Angus who was ready for his feed. Finn and Esme had drawn faces on their boiled eggs and were currently giggling as they bashed the tops of their eggs with a spoon.

  ‘Good morning!’ chirped Aggie, pouring Isla a tea from the pot. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘I did, thank you.’

  ‘Would you like a boiled egg? I believe they come from the best farm in Heartcross.’ Aggie gave Isla a wink.

  ‘That would be perfect,’ said Isla, giving a small chuckle and noticing Rory pass the cottage window.

  ‘Good morning!’ Rory said cheerfully, opening the front door of the cottage. ‘Is Isla around?’

  ‘In here,’ Aggie shouted from the kitchen.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ asked Isla, meeting his gaze. ‘Was the milking okay?’

  Rory and his dad Stuart had kindly offered to milk the cows until Isla had settled into a routine.

  ‘It all went very smoothly, I’m just driving over to Clover Farm to pick up the animal feed and hay bales that’s left over in James Kerr’s barn to get you restocked, but we need somewhere to store it. What’s in that old dilapidated barn at the end of the farm? It’s locked up with a rusty old padlock.’

  ‘As far as I can remember, that barn is full of those old campervans and caravans. Remember Drew and Fergus’s brainwave? They bought them at auction with the intent to restore them to sell them on … except they didn’t. They have no engines, and flat tyres and are no doubt full of spiders and goodness knows what. I’m not sure there’s even room in there. But once I’ve been to the hospital I’ll nip to the farm and find the key for you.’

  ‘Perfect,’ Rory said, waving his hand over his head and leaving the cottage.

  Aggie placed a boiled egg down in front of Isla, ‘You get that down you, while I’ll go and get these children washed and dressed.’ Aggie ushered Esme and Finn out of the kitchen, leaving Martha quietly staring at Isla.

  ‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ asked Isla, feeling under scrutiny.

  ‘Where were you last night? You were gone for hours.’

  ‘I just had stuff to do up at the farm,’ answered Isla vaguely, not wanting to elaborate on her findings until she’d spoken to Drew.

  ‘I’m worried about you Isla, there’s something going on.’ Martha’s voice was soft.

  Her Gran’s caring nature nearly reduced Isla to tears. ‘There’s nothing going on. It’s just been a hell of a couple of days.’ Isla felt her voice wobble, she was worried sick about visiting Drew and confronting him.

  Standing up, Isla couldn’t make eye contact with her gran. She bit down on her lip, hoping that her gran wouldn’t notice the tears in her eyes. ‘I’m going to go to the hospital now. Drew must be bored out of his mind.’

  ‘What about your boiled egg?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Isla replied, kissing Angus on top of his head before slipping her feet into her pumps and picking up her keys. She closed the front door to Fox Hollow Cottage behind her.

  As Isla put the key in the ignition, she was feeling anxious. Lying on the passenger seat next to her was a bag stuffed with the unpaid bills and invoices which she was going to use to confront Drew. She had no idea how he was going to react or what he was going to say, but she wasn’t going to leave until she got answers.

  Starting the engine, Isla noticed that Love Heart Lane seemed brighter and prettier this morning, despite the storm. Thankfully, the rain had stopped, and the sun was shining. Julia was hanging a colourful basket of blooms outside the B&B and Isla gave her a quick beep of the horn as she drove past. On the edge of the village a few children were up and out early, splashing in the puddles from the heavy downpour last night, and as she switched up the car radio and approached the bridge out of Heartcross her mind was fixed on the conversation she was about to have with Drew.

  In the distance she could see Clover Farm standing on the hill. Curiosity got the better of Isla, and taking a detour, she indicated left and followed the long winding country lane for about half a mile. Then she saw it, the old wooden sign hammered into the ground outside the farmhouse gates, which were in need of some tender loving care. ‘Clover Farm’, she read, pulling over in the layby. Climbing out of her car, she rested her hand on the gate and peered up the driveway.

  Standing in the grounds was the ramshackle white-walled ivy-covered cottage where James Kerr had lived for as long as anyone could remember. It was an average-sized cottage which looked dreary and winter-beaten. The windows had never been modernised and the frames were tired and flaky. Many years ago this cottage had been built to impress, picturesque and sitting proudly on the crown of the hill. But looking at it now, it was clear that James Kerr had let it go to rack and ruin, which surprised Isla, considering the substantial revenue he must have made each year from the alpacas.

  ‘You’re not considering buying it, are you? It’s most likely a death trap inside. It’ll suck all your money out of you.’

  The voice behind Isla made her jump and she spun round.

  Isla was faced with a slim woman in her late sixties. Her brunette hair fell below her shoulders, her chiselled cheekbones were streaked with blusher and she wore a pencil skirl with a cashmere jumper, not the usual clientele they were used to in these parts.

  ‘No, I was just passing.’

  ‘Just being nosey, hey?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I was. Are you from the estate agents?’ asked Isla.

  The woman laughed, ‘No,’ then she narrowed her eyes at Isla, giving her a quizzical look. ‘You have a look of Martha Gray about you.’

  Isla was completely taken aback by the mention of her gran’s name.

  ‘She’s my grandmother. Do you know her?’

  ‘You were a small bairn last time I clapped eyes on you … you must be … Isla?’

  ‘I am … but who are …’ Isla didn’t finish her sentence.

  ‘I’m Gracie Maxwell,’ she said, thrusting her bony hand forward.

  Looking puzzled, Isla was still none the wiser but shook the woman’s offered hand.

  ‘I was once Gracie Kerr before I remarried. James was my ex-husband. I lived there once, in Clover Cottage.’ She nodded towards the property sitting on the hill.

  Isla had to do everything in her power to stop her jaw from falling somewhere below her knees.

  ‘I don’t suppose you would remember,’ said Gracie. ‘I’ve not been around these parts for many years.’

  For a moment they both stood in silence and stared towards the farmhouse.

  ‘Clover Cottage was once a happy home, believe it or not.’ Gracie’s eyes swept towards Isla. ‘Then it all went wrong. Have you seen much of James in recent years?’

  Isla shook her head. ‘To be honest, I can’t remember the last time anyone saw him.’

  ‘I honestly thought he’d turned his life around. I saw him in a farmer’s magazine a few years back, there was an interview about him and his prize alpacas. Goodness knows what’s happened to them. No doubt he sold them for booze.’ Her tone was curious rather than accusatory, she clearly had no idea the expensive stock was currently grazing in the fields at Foxglove Farm.

  Isla could feel nervous butterflies swirling around the pit of her stomach. She knew the right thing would be to admit there and then where the alpacas were. Maybe she could pass it off that they were just looking after them temporarily, but she felt nervous and couldn’t bring herself to tell her.

  ‘So, you married again?’ Isla said instead, steering the conversation away from the animals.

  ‘I did, it was the best thing I ever did, leaving this place, but I did marry another farmer, would you believe it? … Glutton for punishment,’ she rolled her eyes and ch
uckled. ‘And recently we’ve bought a little property in the South of France to retire to.’

  ‘That sounds like a fantastic way to retire.’ To say Isla was a nervous wreck asking the next question was an understatement: ‘And your boys? Do you still see them?’ she asked, fearful of the answer.

  ‘So, you know about my boys. Always one for gossip, this village.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend.’

  ‘You haven’t,’ she said, patting Isla’s arm. ‘They’ve been released from prison, I’m sure you’ve heard the story,’ the words tripped off her tongue. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

  Her words spun in Isla’s mind … already released from prison. Isla could feel her heart beating faster and she prayed her voice sounded normal as she spoke: ‘Are they coming back here to Clover Farm … Clover Cottage?’

  Gracie shrugged, ‘I would imagine so. Who else would James leave this lot to? That’s why I’m here. They’ve been inside for so long, this farm is all they have ever known, the only home they’ve ever had, the only area they’ve ever lived in. I thought they actually might be here … silly, I know.’ Gracie sounded wretched. ‘All I know is, they were released a week ago and I’ve no idea where they are. I thought they might be here, but I’m clutching at straws …’

  Isla blinked slowly, not knowing what to say. Avoiding the conversation was her preferred approach. While she hesitated, Gracie stepped in: ‘How is Martha?’

  ‘She’s great, thank you, staying with me at the farm at the minute.’

  ‘Farm?’

  Isla kicked herself for even mentioning the word ‘farm’.

  Gracie tilted her head to the side, waiting for Isla to elaborate.

  ‘I married Drew Allaway, he took over his dad’s farm.’

  ‘Allaway …’ she screwed up her eyes whilst thinking. ‘That would be Foxglove Farm?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the one. Anyway, I best be going, it was nice to meet you,’ said Isla, beginning to perspire at the very thought of the conversation continuing.