Appleby Farm (21 page)

The planning lady who had met me – a sprightly old thing with spiky grey hair and coral-coloured lipstick, who must have been well past retirement – was my new best friend. Her name was Patience Purdue. And with a name like that how could she be anything but utterly charming? She was so enthusiastic about my plans that at one point I thought she was going to hug me, or was that me who was going to hug her? Not sure now, it was all a bit of a blur.

Patience couldn’t give me a formal ‘yes’ at the meeting – my plans were to be submitted at the next meeting – but she did give me an informal nod and a wink, and even the address of a delightful second-hand shop down a tiny street in Kendal that specialized in retro tea sets – hence the rattling of cups and saucers next to me. In her view, as long I was preserving the buildings and making mainly internal structural changes, then we should be ‘Vintage Tea Rooms
à gogo
’. At which point I got a bit carried away and joked that I’d get my builder to cancel the wrecking ball straight away. But we soon cleared that up. And I learned a new buzz word – ‘sustainable tourism’.

Must remember to tell Dad that
, I thought to myself, giggling, as I indicated to turn into Appleby Farm.

Ahead of me I could see a pick-up truck that I didn’t recognize pulling to a halt in front of the barn. In fact, the yard was busy today: both Eddy and Ross had parked their cars plus there was a black Range Rover with mud splashes on it by the side of the cowshed. I wondered if the vet had arrived already.

Car parking for the café
, I added to my mental to-do list as I parked Bobby behind the pick-up, scooped up my papers from the passenger seat and put my shoulder against the door to open it.

‘Arrghhh!’ I yelped.

A man’s face grinned at me through the window and in the blink of an eye I was whizzed straight back in time about sixteen years, to the day when the two of us tried to build our own zipwire in the orchard. The rope snapped and we were stranded up a tree until Eddy rescued us. I’d been scared to death then, too, and he’d grinned. Just like he was grinning now.

‘Harry Graythwaite! You frightened the life out of me,’ I cried, pushing open the door and jumping down beside him.

‘Freya Moorcroft, still as feisty as ever, I see.’

Harry leaned forward, hands on my arms, and kissed my cheek.

‘And proud of it,’ I smirked back at him.

He stood back and looked at my dress and shoes. ‘You’re all grown up,’ he said softly.

I felt my cheeks redden. I was only eighteen the last time I saw him. It was the summer after I finished sixth form, my last long summer at Appleby Farm, my last summer of childhood really, I supposed.

‘Yeah, I bet you never thought you’d see me in a dress?’ I laughed. ‘Anyway, we both are.’

His jaw was more chiselled and he had a day or two of stubble along it, but the rest – the tousled light-brown hair, the full lips and the dancing chocolate-brown eyes – was still the same. And when he smiled – like now – he still had a dimple in his chin.

He folded his tanned arms and leaned back against the wall. I couldn’t help noticing how much broader and more muscular in the shoulders he had become since I last saw him. ‘And you’ve seen the world now, I take it, seeing as you’re back in the Lake District?’

I smiled at him. His words triggered a vague memory that I couldn’t quite grasp. ‘Not quite the whole world, but a decent chunk. Anyway, the farm is my priority for the next few months, so I’ll be staying put for a while. What are you doing here? Not that you’re not welcome,’ I added. ‘It’s just a surprise. I’ve been meaning to come and see you ever since I arrived.’

‘Since you yelled at me up at Knots Hill in the rain, you mean?’ He rubbed his chin and looked down at his boots, chuckling away to himself.

Actually, I meant since I’d seen him in the pub, the time I’d fallen into a pothole thanks to Uncle Arthur’s dubious torch skills and arrived slightly worse for wear having narrowly escaped an ice-cream bath, but I decided not to remind him of that.

‘Yes, sorry, I was under a bit of stress at the time. Not to mention wet through.’ I coughed. ‘So?’

‘I see.’ He grinned. ‘I’m looking for Eddy. I’m going to take on the grassland contract for the season. I need him to ride round the farm with me and identify the fields so I can get cracking on the mowing as soon as possible. I’ve got a list of the fields from him but I’m not sure which is which without a map.’

‘Well, that’s a good idea of his. I approve.’ I grinned, thinking what a good choice Eddy had made. It would be great to have Harry round the farm. Like old times, in fact.

‘Thank you,’ he smirked. ‘I’ve helped out before, especially at harvest time, but this’ll be the first time I’ve taken on an official contract.’

The sun was high in the sky and I shielded my eyes with my hand. ‘Well, I appreciate it. Uncle Arthur will be out of action all summer and I think Eddy was starting to panic. Eddy must be with the vet, I think.’

‘Yes, I recognize the Range Rover. No worries, I’ll wait.’

‘In that case, let’s go inside. Would you like a cup of tea?’

Harry nodded and we walked side by side towards the farmhouse.

‘Talking of tea, I’ve heard about your plans for the tea rooms. I think it’s brilliant. I’m all for diversification. My mum told me,’ he added, laughing at my bemused expression.

‘But she lives …’ I frowned.

‘In Bournemouth, yes, I know. I think Hilary in the post office phoned her.’

We were still giggling about everyone knowing everyone else’s business when I stopped in my tracks and touched his arm. ‘It’s just dawned on me, I can show you which fields are included in the contract. No need to wait for Eddy.’

I turned and walked back to his pick-up truck.

‘What about the tea?’ he called.

‘Come on,’ I laughed. ‘You can earn it first.’

Climbing up into the pick-up truck in a dress and heels was no more difficult than getting into my own vehicle, except that Harry was doing the gentlemanly thing by holding the door for me and I was doing my best to look ladylike and not launch myself into the seat as I normally would.

We set off out of the yard, with me clutching the list of fields that were to be included in the contract and Harry drumming his fingers against the steering wheel, like he’d always done, to some song that only he could hear.

It was odd and yet easy being with Harry again after such a long time. I’d missed him, I realized. Funny how someone can be such a big part of your life one day and gone the next. But that’s what happens, I supposed. At eighteen we leave school and our world changes; we go off to work or uni or travelling and life takes a new path. There was only a handful of people I was still in contact with from school these days. Harry was different, though. I should have made the effort to stay in touch with him but those last few weeks of summer had been strained between us for some reason and then I flew to somewhere or other on my round-the-world trip and eventually when I did want to contact him I felt like it was too late.

‘What’s this one called, then?’ said Harry, breaking into my thoughts as we drove slowly along the field behind the orchard.

‘Clover Field,’ I answered, pleased that I’d memorized all their names. I consulted the sheet of paper. ‘And it’s not on the list.’

‘Sorry, Clover,’ he called out of the window, ‘you’re not on the list.’

I giggled. ‘Hey, do you remember Uncle Arthur giving us a driving lesson in this field in his Land Rover?’

Harry aimed the truck for the gap in the drystone wall into the next field and grinned. ‘I do. You were rubbish if I recall and Arthur said he’d have to take us to one of the bigger fields next time.’

I punched his arm. ‘That is so not true. I was just a more confident driver than you.’

He threw his head back and laughed. ‘For confident read speed-demon. I think you aged your uncle ten years that summer when you turned seventeen and could start learning to drive.’

I tapped the tip of my finger on my cheek. ‘Um, now, which one of us passed their test first? Let me think …’

I laughed as Harry rolled his eyes.

‘Anyway,’ he continued more seriously, ‘it was good of him to teach me. My dad’s arthritis was getting worse by then and he wasn’t up to giving me lessons.’

‘I know, poor Jim.’ I reached across and touched Harry’s arm. ‘How is your dad? Auntie Sue said he’s better now he’s down south.’

‘He’s doing OK, thanks.’ He smiled and rolled his eyes. ‘Still manages to boss me about, though, even from hundreds of miles away.’

Ten minutes in his company and it was like we’d never been apart.
That’s the beauty of a true friendship
, I mused, glancing at his profile as he concentrated on the bumpy path across the farm,
you can just pick up where you left off.
We might have been ten years older but inside we were still exactly the same.

‘Hey, please tell me you’re not still into moody man bands?’ I teased.

Our conflicting musical tastes had always been a standing joke between us. Whereas I was the world’s biggest Backstreet Boys fan, he was into what I used to call ‘music to break up to’.

‘And I’m guessing you still have absolutely no taste whatsoever?’ Harry raised a dark eyebrow.

‘For your information, I’m a Take That fan these days.’

Harry snorted. ‘I rest my case.’

‘What happened to your drumming career, then?’ I quipped. ‘I thought you were going to be the next … what was his name?’

He grinned and shook his head. ‘Dave Grohl, from Nirvana. And for your information, Miss Moorcroft, I
am
a drummer. Me and a couple of mates are in a band called The Almanacs.’

‘Are you?’ I beamed at him. I was all for people fulfilling their dreams. ‘Good for you. Head down there, by the way, towards Bottom Field.’

‘Yeah,’ he nodded nonchalantly, ‘we don’t do many gigs, but our stuff goes down pretty well.’

‘I don’t suppose it’ll be my cup of tea, will it? All rock stuff? You’re right, I am still a pop fan.’

‘Actually,’ Harry cleared his throat and rubbed his nose, ‘we do some pop stuff. We play at weddings and birthday parties; cover-versions, you know, a mix for all ages. You should hear us belt out “Valerie” – you can’t move on the dance floor, believe me.’

‘Really?’ I smirked. ‘You’ll have to tell me when your next gig is, I’d like to hear you play.’

He shoved his sleeves up above his elbows as he drove. ‘Steve, the guitar player, and his wife have just had a baby so we’re having this year off, but I’ll let you know. Anyway, tell me about you.’

We caught up on ten years’ worth of news. His took ten seconds – Harper Adams University studying agriculture for three years and then back to Willow Farm so that his dad could retire. Mine took ages. Mainly because he kept interrupting with silly anecdotes from our teenage past.

‘OK,’ said Harry, stopping the truck fifteen minutes later, ‘have I seen all the fields that need mowing?’

‘Er, hold on.’ I consulted the list. ‘All except Crofters. Follow the line of the tree at the edge of Colton Woods,’ I said, pointing ahead, ‘and that’s Crofters Field. It’s our biggest, I think, nine acres.’

‘Ah, the wonders of Lakeland farming,’ said Harry, rubbing a hand over his stubble. ‘A mate of mine further south has got fields of twenty acres or more. These small fields are so restrictive.’

‘Oh, but they’re all so pretty with their little walls and wooden stiles. It’s what makes Cumbria so special.’ I sighed, enjoying the view all the way down the valley towards Lake Windermere.

‘Aye, true enough, young Freya,’ said Harry, doing an impressive impression of Eddy and making me laugh.

‘Although last time I was up here it was to remove a dead badger from the edge of the field and that was not a pretty sight, I can tell you,’ I added.

‘Really?’ Harry flashed his brown eyes at me sharply. ‘They carry TB, you know, badgers. Have the cattle been in here?’

‘I’m not sure.’ I shrugged. ‘Not for a while, I don’t think. Harry, it’s our vet visit today about TB, we should be getting back. Plus I want to tell everyone the good news about my planning meeting.’

‘Sure.’ Harry nodded, turned the truck around and set off in the direction of the farmhouse.

A few minutes later we arrived back in the yard and Harry turned off the engine and climbed out. As he wasn’t looking, I decided to jump to the ground rather than climb out daintily.

Big mistake.

As my feet hit the cobbled yard I felt my dress tighten around my thighs and I knew instantly that I was stuck. I glanced behind me and my heart sank. The hem of my dress was caught on a lever at the side of the seat. The dress, or should I say,
Lizzie’s
dress, didn’t have a particularly full skirt and the fabric was so strained between me and the seat that when I tried to yank it free I heard it tear slightly. I could hear Harry’s footsteps coming round the truck towards me. I looked down. The fabric had ridden up and my thighs were inappropriately bare. I tried jumping up and down and wriggling to free the hem but it didn’t work. It was no use …

‘Harry!’ I squeaked, my face bright red as he appeared from the back of the truck. I tugged the front of the dress down to preserve what little shred of my dignity remained. ‘Help, I’m stuck.’

He took one look at me and burst out laughing. Hands on hips, shaking his head, eyes crinkling with amusement.

‘It’s not funny,’ I remonstrated, ‘and it’s not even my dress.’

He seemed to find that even funnier and laughed harder. He leaned on the side of the truck, helplessly trying to speak, at which point I joined in and the pair of laughed until tears streamed down our faces.

‘Sorry,’ he spluttered. ‘Not funny at all.’

‘Not in the least,’ I replied breathlessly, wiping away my tears. ‘Now don’t just stand there, do something!’

He tucked his phone in his pocket and walked towards me. ‘OK,’ he said, doing his best to keep a straight face and failing dismally. ‘I’ll lift you in the air and see if that does the trick.’

‘Good plan,’ I agreed, taking a deep breath to calm myself.