We walked slowly round, keeping to the meadow’s perimeter, Granddad poking his stick crossly at the wall wherever stones had parted company from the main structure. ‘So, have you heard owt about the planning then? Has t’council agreed to it?’
‘Any day, I should think,’ I said. ‘The Bamforths had the plans into Midhope Council long before we knew anything about it…’ I stopped talking as three figures appeared to our left, their backs away from us as they stood, leaning against the wall, looking across to the fields beyond.
‘Who’s that over there, then?’ Granddad waved his walking stick in their direction, peering through the mist at the two men and one woman who continued to stand, unaware of our presence, deep in conversation.
I stopped walking, my heart pounding, pulse racing. We needed to turn around; go right back the way we’d just come. I took Granddad’s arm but, as if he knew he was under scrutiny, the man in the middle suddenly turned his head, looking right at me.
Xavier.
35
Here Comes the Llama Farmer…
Later, much later, when Edward and Brigitte had driven off together in Edward’s huge four-wheel drive, wheels spinning in the muddy ruts, tail-lights red eyes in the deepening fog of the late December afternoon, Xavier stood in Granddad’s kitchen, a mug of strong tea in his hand.
‘Cassie,’ he said, drawing me to him. For what seemed like minutes, neither of us spoke but he stroked my head as both my arms went around him. His black woollen jacket felt rough beneath my fingers, his breath warm against my face.
Granddad had fallen asleep over his tea, his mince pie consumed with relish once he knew his precious meadow was, for the moment, anyway, safe from development.
‘I can’t believe you decided not to tell me what Mum had told you,’ Xavier said, holding me away from him and staring into my face with his beautiful brown eyes. ‘How could you not tell me?’
‘How could I, Xavier? Knowing that it would mean you would suddenly know your father wasn’t your father. It wasn’t my secret to tell. You must see that.’ I scanned his face. Did he see?
Instead of speaking, Xavier stroked my hair. Neither of us said a word for a good minute, happy just to be in each other’s arms. And then Xavier said, ‘Dad knew the planning wasn’t going well, you know.’ He smiled. ‘He’s pretty astute: all along he’s known it was a long shot he’d get planning for the three thousand houses, and he certainly wasn’t bothered about the damned dry ski slope. That was just a sort of present to the village.’
‘A present?’ I tutted, crossly. ‘Some bloody present.’
‘He really wanted you and David Henderson on his side with the promise of a new school.’ Xavier smiled again. ‘But you fought him off.’
‘I really don’t think Midhope Council would have taken much heed of what I wanted,’ I said, frowning.
‘Well, you know David Henderson is pretty influential round here. And I’m sure Paula and Freya’s protest in the meadow showed them what they were going to be up against. Once they had Harry Kennedy and Look North on board as well…’ Xavier smiled as he broke off, kissing my forehead softly. ‘Anyway, one of dad’s friends on the council rang him yesterday afternoon to warn him. Dad knew Planning would be making a decision fairly soon but thought it would be after Christmas, but apparently Planning had been discussing it all day yesterday. All isn’t lost for him. He’ll be given permission to build on quite a few of the fields, and a couple of brown sites that no one will object to – even welcome, I would imagine – but nowhere near anything like he originally wanted. And it certainly won’t affect Norman’s meadow or Little Acorns. There’ll be an official turning-down of planning consent but not until the new year.’
‘So, let me get this right, once your dad knew of the decision – unofficially, of course – he rang you and you went round?’
‘Yes.’
‘And your mum just came out with it? There and then?’
‘Well, not quite. She’d obviously been building up to it for a few days. She did assume that once she told you, you’d be straight round to tell me. She’s been on eggshells for days. And then she suddenly realised how unfair she’d been, asking you to make the decision to either keep or tell her secret. She also knew that losing you was the tipping point and I was off…’
‘Off? Off where?’ I stared at him. How could I bear it if he was going to leave, now that I’d found him again?
‘South America.’ Xavier was serious as he studied my reaction to his leaving.
‘South America? You’re going to South America?’ I felt as though I’d been hit in the stomach and totally winded.
‘Not if you don’t want me to.’
‘Jesus, Xavier, need you ask?’
‘Mum knew I was serious about going. I’ve been mooting the idea for years. She knew the one thing that would make me stay now was you and, seeing you hadn’t told me her secret – well, there was no alternative but to sit Dad and me down and tell us both herself.’
‘But how did your poor dad react? Hang on, my dad…’ I suddenly felt a bit protective towards him. ‘Jesus, it’s not news you really want to hear, is it?’
‘Well, he went incredibly quiet for a few minutes. Didn’t say a word. And then totally lost it, shouting and throwing things. Then he went into his snug and threw a few more things, drank half a bottle of whisky and then, because he can’t stand any untidiness, came and cleared it all up.’
‘And then?’
‘And then he fell into a drunken sleep while Mum cried her eyes out and told me the full story. She was ready to pack her bags and go. Thought Dad would tell her to go.’
‘So, what happened then?’
‘Once he surfaced, with an incredible hangover, and found Mum in their bedroom packing her things, he broke down. He’s actually quite a sensitive man, you know. I mean, he appears to be a hard-nosed businessman but underneath he’s a bit of a pussycat…’
‘The poor man,’ I said.
‘I’m not sure what he said to her – I obviously wasn’t listening at the door – but she unpacked her things and they had a cup of tea…’
‘Just like that? A cup of tea after all that?’
‘They’ve had forty years of pretty happy marriage. Mum might not have loved him at the start, but I tell you now, she really does love him and certainly didn’t want to have to leave.’
‘And what about you? How do you feel knowing your dad isn’t your dad?’
Xavier tutted and for a moment looked cross. ‘Of course he’s my dad. Just because some other guy got there first…’ He tutted again. ‘My dad is my dad. Always has been and always will be. My real dad, if you like, is… is just a sperm donor.’
Xavier became serious. ‘And you know, Dad really wants to get to know you a lot better. You are his real daughter, after all’
‘Really?’ I said delightedly. ‘He wants to have a relationship with me?’ I didn’t say anything for a few seconds as I mulled this over. And then I said, ‘Your mum adores you, doesn’t she?’ I smiled, thinking of the tall elegant woman I’d first met a couple of weeks ago.
‘She’s a mum. Think how you feel about Tom and Freya.’
I smiled again, picturing my own gorgeous kids, but then frowned, remembering what he’d said about South America. ‘But why South America? Not more frigatebird hunting?’
Xavier laughed. ‘Alpacas.’
‘Alpacas?’ I couldn’t for the moment think what an alpaca was.
‘Like llamas, but prettier. I’ve always loved them and I’m going to invest in and farm them.’
‘In South America?’ My heart seemed to nosedive once more.
‘That was the plan. The biggest farms are in Chile and Bolivia and it would be a sight warmer there than here.’
‘Oh. But you said that was the plan…?’ I looked at him hopefully.
He smiled. ‘That’s why we were up here today, having a good look round: Dad’s showing an interest, too. There are forty acres
adjoining Norman’s Meadow – don’t worry, that field won’t be included – which I’m going to turn over to farming alpacas. As your friend, Matthew the farmer, said at the meeting the other month, we need to farm the land. Need to diversify if necessary.’
‘You are?’ You’re going to be a farmer?’ I stared at him in delight.
‘So, Mrs Beresford, do you think you could love a llama farmer?’ Xavier took my hand and held it to his face and I sank into him, kissing his open mouth while he responded slowly and sensuously, holding my face with both his hands.
‘Jesus,’ Xavier muttered into my hair. ‘We need to get out of here…’
‘Oy, lad, none of that mucky stuff in my house and with my granddaughter.’ Granddad opened one eye. ‘Any more of them mince pies going, love? I reckon I might just make it to Christmas after all…’
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Acknowledgements
A big thank you to Jane Sargent, headteacher at All Hallows’ C of E Primary School, Almondbury, who talked me through the process of, and implications for, a school becoming part of a Trust.
Thanks as always to my agent Anne Williams at KHLA Literary Agency and also to editor Sarah Ritherdon and the team at Aria, Head of Zeus, for their invaluable help and expertise with this book.
About Julie Houston
JULIE HOUSTON is the author of The One Saving Grace, Goodness, Grace and Me and Looking for Lucy, a Kindle top 100 general bestseller and a Kindle Number 1 bestseller. She is married, with two teenage children and a mad cockerpoo and, like her heroine, lives in a West Yorkshire village. She is also a teacher and a magistrate.
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Addictive Fiction
First published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by Aria, an imprint of Head of Zeus Ltd
Copyright © Julie Houston, 2018
The moral right of Julie Houston to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN (E) 9781788549806
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