Appleby Farm (13 page)

‘I spotted a dead badger in Crofters Field by Colton Woods …’

I racked my brains – which field was that?

‘I’ll show you the map of the fields,’ said Auntie Sue.

I flashed her a grateful smile.

‘And we’re low on nitrogen phosphate and pot ash.’ He pressed himself back into his pillows. ‘Which is fertilizer,’ he added, noticing my bemused expression.

‘Yep, I knew that,’ I laughed. Not. ‘Oh and apparently there’s a vet’s bill to pay?’

‘Um. Right.’ He frowned and whistled through his teeth. ‘Bottom drawer in my desk, bring it in next time you visit and I’ll write him a cheque.’

‘Right then, I’d better get back to work.’ I beamed at them. ‘I’ll make a brilliant farmer. You wait and see. It’s in my genes.’

The office was even more dark and gloomy without Uncle Arthur’s cheery presence in it. And the usual whiff of egg was joined by the doggy smell of Madge, who was pining for him in his chair.

‘Come on, Madge,’ I said with a grunt, pulling the solid little dog on to my lap. ‘Uncle Arthur will be home soon and in the meantime you can help me with the jobs. I bet you could find the dead badger without a map, for starters.’

She licked my face, which I took as a ‘yes’.

The farm’s phone was on the desk and my fingers itched to phone Charlie. But first I had the vet’s bill to find and a passport form to fill in for the Jersey calf. The passport sounded complicated so I’d work my way up to it. Uncle Arthur’s battered mahogany desk had three drawers in it. I pulled out the bottom one and gasped. Sitting on the top of a heap of papers was that envelope with FINAL NOTICE stamped across it in large red letters.

Chest pounding, I lowered Madge to the floor – the licking was getting a bit much – and glanced at the door. I could hear Auntie Sue banging about in the kitchen.

Was it really bad to pry?

I lifted the envelope out and turned it over in my hands. Uncle Arthur had told me to look in here for that vet’s bill. In fact, he probably wanted me to find this letter. Perhaps it was his way of asking for help.

It had already been opened and I slipped the contents out. I’d only just had caught sight of the word ‘bailiff’, when—

‘I’m glad you’ve found the bill, to be truthful,’ said Auntie Sue.

‘Blimey!’ I yelled, clutching my throat and throwing the letter up in the air.

I stared at my aunt, my chest heaving with panicky breaths, Madge cowering under my feet. Auntie Sue sank into the chair next to me and I sat back, my eyes wide and GUILT almost definitely written across my face in huge letters.

‘I was looking for the invoice from the vet …’ My voice faded. Auntie Sue’s bottom lip was starting to wobble and her blue eyes sparkled with tears.

For a second I was stunned. My aunt was such a cheerful soul, such a no-nonsense, let’s-make-the-best-of-it person, and sometimes I forgot that she was, in fact, quite an old lady. An old lady whose beloved husband could have died yesterday. But now she looked almost … defeated.

‘There’s more where that came from,’ she said, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her apron. She pointed to the drawer. ‘They keep coming: from the bank, the tractor company and now the vet. We’re behind with the tax man and the seed supplier, too. We’re in debt up to our necks. This is why we can’t retire; we can’t afford to. We have to keep going or else we’ll lose the farm.’

‘Things can’t be that bad.’ I swallowed. ‘Can they?’

Sitting beside my aunt on the wooden bench at the kitchen table, over a pot of tea, I heard the whole story of how one unfortunate event followed another: the finance deal for the new tractor, the bull who had had to be put down, the calves lost to pneumonia last winter, the wet summer that had ruined the barley and the silage yield, and the subsequent big fodder bill. Each thing was relatively small in itself, but added together they had had a devastating effect on the farm’s cash flow.

Auntie Sue sighed. ‘And now the loan company has put up the interest rate and we can’t keep on top of the payments. We should never have bought that tractor, even if it was only second hand. I keep telling him to sell up, leave the farm.’

‘That does sound sensible,’ I said tentatively.
Although incredibly sad.

I looked round the kitchen. The two cats were in their spot in front of the Aga and Madge had relocated herself to her master’s armchair. This place had been home to three generations of Moorcroft farmers and it was unthinkable that Appleby Farm would have to be sold, especially under such circumstances.

She shook her head and pressed her lips together. ‘Your uncle says he won’t be forced off his own land by banks. He says while he still has breath left in his body he’ll fight to keep his farm.’

And yesterday he could so easily have taken his last breath. I felt tears prick at the back of my eyes and quickly blinked them away.

Auntie Sue pulled her handbag towards her and took out a handful of leaflets.

‘They’ve given me all these booklets to read.’ She flicked through them, dropping them one by one on the table. ‘“Healthy Diet, Heathy Heart”, “Living with Heart Disease”, “Avoiding Stress”. And how can he do that with all this pressure hanging over his head? Tell me that, eh? It was probably the stress of our money situation that landed him in the hospital in the first place. And I can’t see this problem going away.’

We looked at each other and neither of us spoke. It felt like there was a ping-pong ball stuck in my windpipe and my heart was breaking for the pair of them; they worked so hard and it just didn’t seem fair. Auntie Sue and I leaned together until our heads touched and I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.

Suddenly the ping-pong ball sensation vanished. I sat up straight and grabbed Auntie Sue by the top of her plump arms.

‘I’ll save the farm,’ I blurted. No idea how. Well, not yet anyway, but I was sure something would come to me.

‘Oh, Freya.’ She gave me a sad smile and blinked, causing two tears to roll slowly down her face.

I wiped them away with my thumbs. ‘I mean it. I love challenges. Thrive on them. In fact, this is just what I need. The waitressing job was beginning to feel a bit easy; I’m ready for something new.’

‘But you’re a young woman, love.’ She tutted. ‘You don’t want to be stuck out here with us old folks.’

‘I love you old folks.’ I grinned.

‘Having to go out in all weathers.’

‘I like all weathers and I love the outdoors. Even you’ve got to admit that.’

She cocked her head to one side and raised her eyebrows. ‘And there’s no money in it, you know that?’

‘Ha,’ I scoffed, ‘since when has that bothered me?’

Auntie Sue shook her head anxiously. ‘What about Charlie?’

Good point. I hesitated for a second. ‘Charlie will understand. And I only need to stay until things are settled. Think of me as one of those interim managers that go in to businesses to keep things ticking over until the real boss comes back.’

For the first time in ages, I felt a whoosh of exhilaration. The farm needed a solution and I was good at solutions. I started pacing around the table, following the well-worn grooves in the quarry tiles. Made by the footsteps of the Moorcroft family.

Wow. A shiver sent tingles up my spine. Generations of Moorcroft farmers had paced these floors and now I suddenly felt part of it.

I stopped circling and smiled brightly. ‘Uncle Arthur said one day I’d find my niche.’ I held my arms out and spun round on the spot. ‘Perhaps this is it! Maybe my forte has been under my nose all this time at Appleby Farm!’

I pushed open the door to the White Lion and Lizzie waved at me immediately.

‘Hey, Lizzie, bet you didn’t expect to see me so soon?’ I said, leaning over the bar to give her a hug.

‘It is
ace
to have you back in Lovedale. But I’m so sorry that your cute little uncle is poorly. Is he going to be OK? How long are you stopping this time? Or are you staying for ever? Your coat smells horsey, by the way.’

I sniffed my arm. ‘Oh, it does!’ I sniffed it again. ‘I love that smell. I took Skye out for a quick mosey up to Crofters Field this afternoon. You don’t mind, do you?’

I missed out the bit about finding the dead badger and disposing of it in Colton Woods. I didn’t want to relive the moment myself, to be honest.

‘Course not!’ she cried, swiping at my arm. ‘We’ll share her. We can share everything if you want. Like sisters.’ She pulled a face. ‘Maybe not like sisters. My sister Victoria has never been keen on sharing. Except if it was mine in the first place. Well, anyway,’ she said dismissively, ‘forget her. How are you?’

I busied myself finding a bar stool so that I could avoid her eyes. I’d been putting a brave face on for the last twenty-four hours since receiving that call from Auntie Sue, keeping my own feelings hidden in order to support her. But now, having discovered the scale of the farm’s debts coupled with the seriousness of Uncle Arthur’s health situation, I was feeling a bit wobbly.

‘Sad, worried,’ I murmured shakily. ‘Oh, I think you’re wanted.’

Bill, the landlord, was clearing his throat repeatedly and Lizzie, taking the hint, served a couple of waiting customers before returning to me with a frown.

‘If you don’t mind me saying, Freya, you look a bit tired. You OK?’

‘Oh my word, Lizzie. I’ve got
so
much to tell you.’ I sighed, tapping the cider pump. ‘But first, half a pint and one for yourself. How’s Ross? By which I mean, how are
you
and Ross? Obvs.’

‘Oh fine, fine, fine.’ She flicked a hand. ‘But let’s talk about Freya and her amazing return to the farm.’

‘Aww, thanks. I must admit, I am glad to be back, except for the circumstances.’

Lizzie nodded.

‘Ooh, before I forget, that really nice farmer was asking about you earlier.’

‘Who, that mate of Uncle Arthur’s with the bald head and odd wellingtons?’

‘No!’ Lizzie giggled. ‘The good-looking one who’s always drumming his fingers on the bar and whistling. In fact …’ She scanned the pub. ‘No, looks like you’ve missed him.’ She pulled a disappointed face. ‘Harry. Don’t know his surname. Next farm to you.’

I knew exactly who that was: the boy who’d wanted to be a drummer when he grew up. I clapped a hand over my mouth.

‘Harry Graythwaite.’ I felt a flush of guilt. ‘What must he think of me not going to see him? We were inseparable as teenagers.’

‘I bet. You lucky thing.’ She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

‘Shame I missed him,’ I said, blatantly ignoring Lizzie’s innuendos.

‘Mmm, I used to have a bit of a soft spot for him myself. Until I saw Ross’s face. And then it was, like, swoon!’ She pretended to stagger, presumably under the effect of Ross’s good looks. ‘I swear that boy could have been a model.’ She sighed dreamily, propping her chin up on her palm.

‘What did Harry want, anyway?’ I asked, taking some money out of my pocket.

‘Um,’ Lizzie gazed up at the ceiling. ‘Asked if you were back for good. I said probably not because you had a boyfriend at home. Which is right, isn’t it?’

‘Of course.’ I waved a five-pound note at her. ‘I’m sooo thirsty.’

‘Oops, sorry,’ she said. ‘My head is in the clouds at the moment. You know what it’s like when you first get together with someone. It won’t last.’

‘No …’ I agreed, tongue in cheek.

‘Won’t it?’ She looked at me aghast.

I giggled. ‘I’m joking, you two seem great together. By the way, how come you got mobile phone service at the farm? I have to virtually climb Mount Everest for mine to work.’

Lizzie tapped her nose. ‘There’s a new phone mast gone up the other side of Colton Woods. I’ve changed network and now my phone works. Simple. You get money for having a phone mast, you know. You should get one on the farm.’

‘Funny you should say that …’ I leaned across the bar and lowered my voice. ‘I need to raise some money – quickly, without going to a loan shark.’

Lizzie’s eyebrows shot skywards and her jaw dropped. She poured my half pint in silence and placed it in front of me, opening a bottle of orange juice for herself.

‘I’ve got to pay off some … well, quite a lot actually …’ My words caught in my throat and I pressed my lips together.

If it was just about me, I’d have no qualms about confiding in Lizzie, but it wasn’t and I didn’t think Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur would take too kindly to me broadcasting to the entire pub that Appleby Farm was up to its eyeballs in debt.

Lizzie slurped her drink, checked to see where Bill was and added a shot of vodka.

‘Aww, credit cards?’ She wrinkled her nose in sympathy. ‘Know the feeling. It’s tempting, isn’t it? I once went on a shopping spree with mine and bought a new saddle for Skye and a leather jacket for me. Two grand, I spent. Mind you, we both looked gorgeous. Still paying it off, actually.’ She gave me a cheeky grin and lifted one shoulder.

‘Something like that,’ I said, sipping my cider. Not terribly ladylike, I know, but I’ve never been a fan of wine; it’s those spindly little glasses that worry me – so easy to knock over with clumsy hands like mine.

I sighed. Two thousand pounds. If only the farm’s debts were so small. Add a nought, double it, then add some more …

‘Ah well, it’s only money.’ She giggled. ‘But to answer your question. I suppose I’d go to the Bank of Mum and Dad.’

‘Oh no.’ I shuddered. ‘I can’t do that.’ Even the thought of asking my parents for money made my scalp prickle.

‘Yeah, it is a bit embarrassing. But at the end of the day, they are family. My parents would be devastated if I had money troubles and I didn’t go to them about it. Although that’s unlikely to happen – my mum knows everything about my life cos I speak to her every day. Oh my God!’ She paled and clapped a hand over her mouth. ‘That was tactless, Freya. I’m so sorry, honey.’

I choked on my cider. ‘What was tactless?’

Lizzie blinked at me. She’d gone quite heavy on the eyeliner today and had an air of ‘mournful bushbaby’ about her. ‘Well, me saying “Bank of Mum and Dad”, “talk to her every day”.’ She wagged her head from side to side mimicking herself. ‘And there’s you – an orphan. Sometimes my mouth goes galloping off before my brain has even grasped the reins. Please forgive me.’