Appleby Farm (20 page)

‘Cor.’ Lizzie grinned, running an approving eye over him. ‘She said you were gorgeous.’

‘Oi,’ said Ross. ‘I heard that. Can I get you both a drink?’

Charlie began talking to Ross and I pulled up a stool and chatted to Lizzie in between her serving customers.

‘He is one majorly gorgeous man,’ she hissed in an impossible-not-to-hear whisper.

‘I know.’ I grinned, turning pink.

I reached across and pinched one of Charlie’s crisps. I always forgot what an appetite he had; after two platefuls of Auntie Sue’s pot roast and a dish of sticky toffee pudding, he was apparently hungry again and had bought two packets of ready salted and a bag of peanuts.

‘How are things with your sister?’ I asked.

‘Actually, Victoria’s been all right,’ said Lizzie, looking amazed, as if the thought had only just occurred to her. Her hair was caught up in a high ponytail and it swished from side to side as she talked.

‘She was in here yesterday. Her job is amazing and they all love her at the radio station – her words, not mine. And she says she’s got her eye on someone, she didn’t say who. So, thank the Lord, Ross is safe. In fact, she only annoyed me once.’

‘Oh?’

‘Cheeky moo said she was going to help me get a better job.’

I looked across at Bill, the landlord, who had suddenly paused whilst pouring a pint of Jennings.

‘Apparently they’re looking for junior office staff at Radio Lakeland. I mean, for starters, how humiliating would that be, being the office junior when my sister is the talent? Allegedly. And for afters, I could never work in an office!’

At that moment, Charlie and Ross tuned back in to our conversation.

‘Me neither,’ we all said at once.

Bill’s shoulders sagged with relief and he trotted off to deliver his pint to a customer.

Charlie looped an arm around my shoulders and I leaned my hip against him. I saw Lizzie mouth
Aww
to Ross and I pressed my lips together in a smile. This was lovely; the four of us. Shame Charlie had to leave again on Wednesday.

‘What will you do for a job, Freya, when you come home?’ Charlie asked out of the blue. ‘You won’t go back to the café, will you?’

I blinked at him. ‘Ooh, gosh, I haven’t thought that far ahead yet. I mean, I need to get the Vintage Tea Rooms set up first,’ I said, feeling all hot and bothered. ‘So it could be a while yet.’

‘Oh.’ His mouth did that upside-down smile thing and I could have kicked myself.

Lizzie put her hand in the air. ‘I’ll help you!’ She pulled a face and folded her arms. ‘Not that I get much time off but at least it’ll give me a good excuse not to see Victoria, plus I can boast that I’m involved with a new business venture. Office job, my bum,’ she chuntered.

‘Thanks.’ I swallowed, still looking at Charlie. ‘There’s loads to do. We’re supposed to be clearing the barn out tomorrow, if that’s OK?’

‘Yeah, of course.’ Charlie smiled, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

‘I’m seeing the planning officer at the council on Tuesday after the bank holiday and hopefully she’ll give me the verbal go-ahead.’

‘And you’ve got your builders sorted,’ added Ross.

‘Correct.’

I’d thought sourcing tradesmen would be difficult but all I’d had to do was stand at the bar in this very spot, utter the words ‘reliable builder’ and everyone had said ‘Goat’, and pointed towards a man sitting in the corner on his own.

Goat was a clean-shaven, squarely built man with a bald head balanced, it seemed, directly on to broad neckless shoulders. He had one leg longer than the other, a trait that had become quite obvious when he’d walked over to introduce himself. And I’d noticed he tried to hide his leg imbalance by standing on a slope or hitching one foot on to a stool when he spoke to me. Actually, he didn’t talk much at all but his quotation was reasonable and he had drawn me up plan of how he thought the Vintage Tea Rooms could look, which matched my ideas exactly. I was a bit worried about how he coped with climbing ladders with his dodgy legs but didn’t like to ask.

‘I’ll have to start sourcing crockery soon,’ I said. ‘I’m looking forward to that. I’m thinking pretty, mismatched china.’

I remembered my little battle with Shirley over the white mugs in her café. This time I would be able to indulge my love of colour.

‘Ooh, lovely!’ cooed Lizzie, pulling the cork out of a bottle of red wine for a customer.

‘And at some point I’ll have to employ someone to run it for me, I suppose.’

Lizzie looked over her shoulder to check Bill wasn’t in earshot.

‘Me!’ she hissed. ‘I mean, you can give me a proper interview and everything, but that would be my dream job. Seriously, Freya. Me, me, me!’ She stared at me, eyebrows raised, willing me to give her a chance.

‘Well …’ I laughed awkwardly. Upside: I liked and trusted her. Downside: I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but—

‘There you go, Freya. Sorted. You’ll be back in Kingsfield in no time.’ Charlie downed the last of his pint and thumped his glass down on the bar.

Lizzie clapped her hands and Charlie kissed my cheek.

‘Yeah,’ I said, forcing a brightness that I didn’t feel. ‘Lovely!’

And Lizzie would make a great manager. When there was something to actually manage. So why had my stomach gone all fluttery?

‘Anyway,’ said Charlie, looking at my nearly empty glass meaningfully, ‘lovely to meet you but we left my son with Freya’s aunt and uncle cooking bread on poky sticks over a fire, so we’d better get back.’

‘Oh, damper bread!’ exclaimed Ross and Lizzie at the same time.

‘Ha-ha! Jinx. Padlock!’ cried Lizzie, jabbing Ross in the ribs.

Charlie stared at me, bemused, and I shrugged, laughing. ‘Let’s go,’ he whispered.

We left Lizzie and Ross giggling at each other and stepped out into the cool air. Slowly we wandered along the road and turned up the track to the farm. A few midnight-blue clouds darkened the night sky but even so a sliver of moon and a billion distant twinkling stars glittered above us.

‘You don’t get starry nights as stunning as this in Kingsfield,’ he whispered. ‘Too many street lamps.’

‘I know,’ I agreed.
And that’s just one of the reasons I love this place so much
, I added to myself.

We got as far as the farm gate and he turned to face me. He circled my waist with his arms and I reached up to stroke the soft bit of his neck just under his cropped hair.

‘I’m so glad I came to the farm. Now I’ll be able to picture where you are and what you’re doing when we’re apart.’

I tightened my arms around his neck and he stepped closer until every inch of my body was pressed against his. ‘And you’ll visit again, won’t you? I quite like showing you off.’

‘Of course. If you want me to.’ He dipped his head to meet mine and kissed me slowly.

‘Yes, please.’

I closed my eyes and moved a hand round to feel the stubble on the side of his face, committing every touch, every scent, every detail of him to memory.

‘Come on,’ he said, grinning wickedly, ‘I want you to show me the barn again. Remind me where everything in your tea rooms is going to go.’

‘You’ve seen it,’ I said, puzzled. Plus it was too dark and I didn’t have a torch with me.

‘True.’ He started nuzzling at my neck and I shivered. ‘But we had Ollie with us then. This time it’ll be just you, me and the hay bales.’

‘Oh, in that case,’ I giggled, breaking into a run, ‘catch me if you can.’

He did catch me. But only because I let him.

Tuesday, the day of my meeting with the Cumbrian planning department, soon rolled around. I was the last one down to breakfast and everyone was at the table when I pirouetted into the kitchen.

‘Ta-dah! How do I look?’

Charlie whistled, Ollie clapped and I kicked one heel up playfully.

‘Ooh, you look a picture, lass. Doesn’t she, Artie?’ gasped Auntie Sue, pressing her oven-gloved hands to her cheeks.

Uncle Arthur looked up from his bowl of muesli. He was grimacing, which I hoped was a reaction to his new high-fibre diet rather than to my outfit. ‘You’re a stunner, love. You’ll knock ’em dead.’

I was more of a tomboy-jeans-and-Converse girl at heart but today I was all about the Appleby Farm brand – I know! Get me and my marketing jargon! So I was vintage all the way from the knitted flower clip in my hair down to my kitten-heel shoes with the bows on the front, not to mention my ditsy floral dress and cute little cardigan, borrowed from Lizzie. Actually, I felt fab.

‘I could get used to this look,’ I said, peering at my rear view in the mirror above the fireplace.

‘Me too.’ Charlie grinned.

‘Sausages?’ Auntie Sue cocked an eyebrow at me as she slid sizzling plates of food in front of Charlie and Ollie.

‘No, thanks. I’ll have muesli, I think, if Uncle Arthur doesn’t mind sharing?’ I sat down beside him and nudged him playfully.

‘Finish it up.’ He shoved the cereal box my way with a wink. ‘Please.’

‘I collected the eggs this morning, Freya. By myself. Are you sure you don’t want one?’ Ollie said, squeezing a small mountain of ketchup on to his fried egg.

‘I’ll save mine until lunch, I think, Ollie.’ I tipped some muesli into a bowl and sipped at a glass of water. ‘I haven’t got much appetite this morning. But thank you, anyway.’

‘What advice did your dad have, lass?’ asked Uncle Arthur.

I’d phoned my parents last night to tell them about my meeting. Mum had told me to look the part and not dress too casual or too businesslike.

‘You need to present the face of Appleby Farm,’ she’d said. ‘People are sold on the detail; a pretty dress is an absolute must.’

And Dad had given me a pep-talk about buzz words.

‘These bureaucratic types will have criteria for approving planning applications: tick the right boxes and you’ll be in. Pepper your application with things like “job creation”, “farm diversification”, “rural enterprise” and “sympathetic renovation” and you’ll stand a much better chance. Oh, and “visitor experience”, they’ll love that, too.’

I’d probably never remember all that but I did manage the dress and at least I knew they cared. Which was lovely but didn’t stop my stomach churning like Auntie Sue’s ice-cream machine in full raspberry-ripple mode, partly with nerves – that was only natural, I supposed – but mainly with excitement. The Vintage Tea Rooms was the first thing that had ever been truly mine and I was brimming with ideas and plans. I just hoped the planning officer would share my vision.

‘Freya?’ Charlie’s teasing voice eventually penetrated my thoughts.

Everyone was staring at me and I realized I hadn’t answered my uncle’s question. ‘Gosh! Sorry, I’m a bit preoccupied this morning. Um, he sent his love and wished me luck.’

Was it my imagination or did Uncle Arthur just make some sort of grunting noise?

‘So. What’s everyone else up to today?’ I asked, pushing my bowl to one side. I was siding with Uncle Arthur: the muesli reminded me of the special woodchip bedding that Lizzie had started using in Skye’s stable.

‘We’re off for a picnic and a walk around Tarn Hows, aren’t we, Ollie? Have a splash in the water?’ said Charlie.

I reached for his hand across the table. ‘Oh, I want to come! It’s lovely there, very romantic.’

‘Yuck,’ Ollie muttered and we all laughed.

‘And it’s a busy day here.’ Uncle Arthur sighed. He’d made it out of his pyjamas today and was wearing an old pair of overalls. ‘Vet’s due back to check on the TB test and Eddy says he’s sorted someone to start with the silage. So I’d better—’

‘Sit back down and finish your breakfast,’ Auntie Sue finished for him.

‘Is TB still a problem, Arthur?’ asked Charlie.

‘Oh yes, not as big as it was but it’s devastating when it hits,’ Uncle Arthur replied. ‘In fact, a farmer on the Scottish border lost his whole herd last week.’

‘Touch wood, we’ve never been through it at Appleby Farm,’ said Auntie Sue with a sharp intake of breath. ‘And I hope we never do.’

‘Why, Auntie Sue, what happens?’ Ollie asked.

‘Well,’ she said, ruffling his hair and shooting Charlie a worried look, ‘the vet gives the cows an injection and if any of them react by getting a swollen lump, they have to be put to sleep by someone called a slaughterman.’

Ollie seemed to accept that answer and went back to his sausages.

‘Seeing them being collected for slaughter must be awful,’ I said with a shudder.

‘Doesn’t bear thinking about,’ Uncle Arthur said, shaking his head. ‘And then you’ve got a waiting game for at least six months before you can get the all-clear for the rest of the herd. Until then, you can’t move any cattle on or off the farm. Ruins your business.’

‘Is there any insurance money?’ asked Charlie. ‘Or does the farmer lose his herd and his investment, just like that?’ He snapped his fingers.

Uncle Arthur sighed and folded his arms across his chest. ‘There’s a compensation scheme, but it doesn’t pay full market value, I don’t think. I heard of this one fella …’

Auntie Sue and I exchanged smiles. This subject would probably keep him occupied for hours.

‘Blimey! Look at the time,’ I said, checking my watch. ‘I’d better be off. Wish me luck!’ I stood up and gathered my folders and papers from a pile on the coffee table.

With my cheeks covered with kisses and my ears ringing with well wishes and Uncle Arthur still explaining the rather unpleasant ins and outs of bovine tuberculosis to Charlie, I left the farmhouse and crossed the yard to my trusty campervan and clambered in.

I inhaled a big calming breath. ‘Come on, Bobby, adventure awaits!’

Four hours later the future of Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms was as good as ‘in the bag’ and I was on my way home to the farm, singing my head off rather aptly to ‘Tea For Two’ by Doris Day on Radio Lakeland. I only knew the chorus but happily hummed the rest, accompanied by the tinkling of china from the passenger footwell of the campervan.

The sky was wall-to-wall turquoise, the fields were a hundred shades of green and the hedgerows were full of birds tweeting merrily. Well, I might have imagined the latter, but you get the picture … I was fizzing with excitement and ultra-appreciative of my beautiful surroundings on the journey back to Lovedale.