Appleby Farm (28 page)

Harry turned off the engine and removed the key. ‘Yes, that was what made me think of bringing you here. And if you’re still keen, there are two more shepherd’s huts at Willow Farm you’re welcome to have to add to the collection.’

I swallowed a lump in my throat as I climbed out of the car, taking care to keep the skirt of my dress with me this time. What a thoughtful … thought.

‘Thank you, Harry,’ I murmured, shaking my head, ‘that’s very generous of you.’

‘Freya, for my family, farming is all we’ve known. Except Mum has taken up body-boarding, apparently.’ He rolled his eyes and we shared a smile.

‘But anyway. I can’t imagine not keeping Willow Farm in our family and if I can help keep you in Lovedale … the Moorcroft family, I mean, then just ask.’

The car park was all stony and I was conscious of Harry’s hand hovering at my elbow as I tried not to stumble. By the time I’d made it to the path the soles of my feet were burning and I was bitterly regretting wearing my posh shoes.

‘What do you want first: to explore or cake?’

‘Explore, definitely.’ I was still a bit full from my pancakes. Although not that I was going to admit it, Harry was right; there was no way I could turn down cake. Especially on my birthday.

The café and farm shop were located in a long, low wooden-clad building. Two chalkboards advertised the special offers of the day. Next to the café was a map of the place, so we consulted it and set off towards the gardens, Harry shortening his long stride to match mine.

‘Sorry to hear about you and Charlie, by the way. We didn’t get off to a good start but he seemed like a good bloke,’ said Harry.

I felt my face heat up at the memory of Charlie finding me in Harry’s arms, albeit innocently.

We were walking through a neatly manicured section of lawn with a frill of lavender around the edge. Every so often a stone-carved woodland creature was visible through the purple fronds. I was enchanted and glad to have something to focus on rather than look Harry in the eye.

‘He was. Is. But …’ I hesitated, not wanting to get into the details. ‘These things happen. And another six months apart was too much to ask our relationship to bear.’

‘Is that how long you’re staying, then? Only six months?’ He furrowed his brow as he tweaked the head off a lavender flower.

‘Yes. No. I don’t know, really.’ I felt all flustered.

The path narrowed and we bumped into each other.

After a few ‘after you, no, after you’s I took the lead along the path.

‘I love it in the Lakes, adore it. And I didn’t realize how much Lovedale is a part of me until I came back as an adult.’

‘I can relate to that.’ Harry laughed softly. ‘Although, of course, I’ve never lived anywhere else – except my three years at uni. And I couldn’t wait to leave there.’

We reached a wrought-iron gate at the end of the path and he stepped ahead to open it for me. I smiled my thanks as I passed him.

‘At least you know that Willow Farm will be your home as long as you want it to be. Auntie Sue and Uncle Arthur are definitely retiring at the end of the year, whatever happens. And if the farm changes hands, then …’ I shuddered at the thought of leaving Appleby Farm. ‘Well, then I don’t suppose there will be anything here for me.’

‘Nothing?’

‘Well, no.’ I shrugged.

‘I see.’

Something in the way he said that made me whirl round to look at him; he’d almost sounded insulted. But his face gave nothing away. What had I said?

‘Um, anyway, half of me thinks that opening the tea rooms is a great idea,’ I continued, ‘and the other half worries that I’m grasping at straws. What do you think?’

I looked over my shoulder again to see what his face was doing. He stopped and I stopped.

‘Oh, Freya,’ he said softly, so softly that a flurry of goosebumps ran down my back. He opened his hand and sprinkled the purple lavender flowers on the ground.

I held my breath, completely unsure how to read Harry’s response.

‘Whether it’s a success financially, only time will tell, but I think it has given your aunt and uncle something positive to cling on to while they’re still reeling from Arthur’s heart attack and the TB outbreak. So I’d say that means it’s already a success.’

I nodded. ‘Thank you. I hadn’t looked at it like that.’

He held my gaze for a couple more seconds and then cleared his throat. ‘And if you’re only going to be here for another few months, then I’ll just have to make the most of it, won’t I? I mean,
you.
Won’t
you
?’

I was a bit confused about who was supposed to be making the most of what but for some reason my heart was racing and my mouth had gone dry.

‘Yes,’ I stuttered.

‘You’re staring.’ He arched an eyebrow at me.

‘Sorry.’ I laughed, feeling my cheeks redden.

‘Well, walk then, or you’ll never get your birthday cake.’ His eyes flicked to the path head.

‘Yes, boss.’

Rigg Farm was gorgeous and despite all the new additions, looked completely unspoilt. The canvas yurts were just visible through the trees along with plumes of wood smoke, and the sound of children playing filtered through the woods. The sculptures were dotted here and there throughout the gardens and even amongst the trees, and each time we came across one it was a lovely little discovery. No two pieces of art were alike and each one complemented its surrounding perfectly: a wire fairy with dainty wings hanging from a tree; a huge stone sundial set inside a maze of low hedge on the brow of a hill; and my favourite: a pair of sheep made from polished copper near the entrance to the café.

We had walked in a full circle and arrived back at the café’s chalkboards before I knew it. Amazingly I found I did indeed have room for a slice of cake.

I left Harry flicking through a display of leaflets and walked towards the chalkboard (nice touch – handwritten) to consult the menu. I was just taking my phone out of my bag to take some pictures of it when I heard a shrill but familiar voice.

‘Harry! What a coincidence!’

I turned to see Lizzie’s sister Victoria sail up to Harry, kiss his cheek and flick her foot up behind her like a Disney princess. She was wearing huge sunglasses and a long, clingy black dress that showed her pointy hip bones. Over her shoulder was a big pack of some sort of equipment and she was carrying a microphone.

‘Are you stalking me?’ she purred. ‘Oh, you’ve gone red! Didn’t mean to embarrass you, darling. And don’t worry,’ she leaned in and hissed, ‘I’ve secretly always wanted a stalker.’

I walked over to join them. ‘Hey, Victoria.’

Was it my imagination or did her lips just do a cat’s bum impression?

‘Hi, Freya. Isn’t that Lizzie’s dress? Very feminine – you should try it more often. Anyway, it looks better on you – Lizzie’s hips are far too wide for it.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, wondering if I meant it. There were more back-handed compliments in that speech than I could shake a stick at.

‘What brings you here?’ asked Harry, folding his arms awkwardly.

Victoria flashed him a smile. ‘It’s for my new feature: “Victoria’s Secret Gardens”. I’m planning a whole series of them, Victoria’s Secret something or other – shops next, probably. Really it’s so I can make people think of sexy underwear when they hear my name. Brand association, you know.’

She looked back at me and paused. ‘Victoria’s Secret is a lingerie retailer, Freya.’

Rude! OK, so maybe Lizzie was right about her, although why she was acting like I was a threat was beyond me.

‘I live on a farm, Victoria, not in the desert.’

Harry put his hand on my arm and nudged me towards the café. ‘For the record, Freya’s underwear is very sexy. Anyway, don’t let us hold you up.’

Eek! Too embarrassing. I glanced down to see if any of my not-very-sexy-at-all undies were on display. They weren’t. Victoria’s jaw dropped like a stone and then, ever the professional, her smile was back on.

‘Yes. Right. Better press on.’ She beamed and then leaned forward, adding, ‘Need to interview the public. Oh, here come some of them now, excuse me.’

We watched as she lay in wait for some new arrivals from the car park.

‘She seems very keen on you,’ I said with a sideways glance at Harry. ‘Are you two …?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘No, thank you, she’d eat me alive.’

I was happy with that answer.

Victoria switched on her microphone and lunged forward, thrusting the microphone into the faces of a smartly dressed couple who were passing.

‘Hello, I’m Victoria Moon, reporting for Radio Lakeland. Can I ask you some questions for “Victoria’s Secret Gardens”?’

As she said this last bit she turned to Harry and gave him an exaggerated wink.

‘Sure, sure,’ murmured the couple as they shot excited looks at each other. He circled his shoulders, she patted her hair and they both cleared their throats.

‘So, I understand that entry to the gardens is free to old age pensioners,’ she smiled sweetly, giving them her ‘poor you’ face. ‘That must be a tremendous boon to people like you, barely living above the poverty line?’

We moved out of earshot, but not before I heard the woman gasp in indignation and her husband reply sourly, ‘We wouldn’t know. I’m only fifty-eight and my wife is even younger.’

‘Really?’ Victoria looked baffled as the couple swept past her, their faces thunderous.

Harry and I looked at each other, both on the verge of the giggles and escaped to the café.

‘Love her or hate her, she’s certainly entertaining,’ said Harry, watching her approach another group of people.

Love her? I tried not to feel put out.

‘Come on, birthday girl,’ he said, taking my hand. ‘Let’s get you some cake and hope they can do better than Victoria Sponge.’

‘Wait.’ I stood my ground. ‘What was all that about my knickers being sexy? You haven’t seen my underwear.’ Not recently anyway; there’d been plenty of times as kids but I rather hoped he’d forgotten about the pants that used to have the days of the week on them.

Harry gave me a mischievous grin. ‘They were on the washing-line when I came through the garden this morning. At least, I assume they were yours. Pink ones with frilly bits. And a few weeks ago when you got stuck climbing out of my truck, I caught a glimpse then, and when you were about eighteen …’

I went bright red and pushed ahead into the café. ‘All right, you win. Time for cake, Harry.’

It had been a hugely fun few hours but although I’d enjoyed seeing Rigg Farm and spending time with Harry, I couldn’t help feeling strangely unsettled. I watched him surreptitiously as we drove back to Lovedale, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and whistling something unrecognizable under his breath. I studied the details of his face, marvelling at how he’d changed from a boy to a man in ten years; the stubble on his jawline, the curve of his mouth, the pulse in his neck just below his ear.

His mouth twitched and he turned to look at me as if he’d known all along that I’d been staring. And in that moment my stomach fluttered and I realized what had unsettled me: the boy I’d played with, confided in and shared my dreams with had turned into a man who could give me goosebumps with a single look.

There was less than a week to go until the grand opening of the Appleby Farm Vintage Tea Rooms. I say ‘grand’; it was more likely to be what Anna termed ‘a soft launch’. This was what she did with her dating websites, apparently: let the thing go live without making too much of a song and dance about it so you could iron out all the wrinkles in private. She’d learned her lesson after the huge advertising campaign that launched Crack of Dawn Dating dot com, a niche dating website for early risers. Unfortunately there was a bit of a misunderstanding about this niche and the first eager beavers to upload their profile photos were all called Dawn – and let’s just say you couldn’t see the colour of their eyes from
those
pictures.

Anyway, on our launch day Uncle Arthur was going to cut the ribbon and Auntie Sue was going to cut the cake. All I had to do between then and now was make sure we were ready to open.

Arrghhh!

Since my birthday I had ploughed my way – with the help of Anna in Kingsfield, Lizzie and Auntie Sue – through the most enormous heap of jobs. We had had the thumbs-up from the council’s environmental health people, the website was up and running, we’d finalized our food offering, a second-hand coffee machine had arrived from an Italian coffee shop in Kendal that was closing down and I’d ordered twenty different types of tea for our ‘Lovely Cup of Tea’ menu.

Of course, the barn itself still looked like a war zone: stacks of timber waited to be transformed into skirting boards and door frames; chandeliers still in their boxes needed to be hung; the kitchen units were in but had no doors; piles of rubble and debris sat in every corner …

The list was scarily endless. Goat was adamant that he was on schedule but that didn’t stop me having a minor panic attack every time I stepped into the place. And there was still a mountain of jobs to be done by me, or at least it felt like it, but today I was having a few hours off because reinforcements were arriving in the form of the lovely, calming influence of Tilly Parker.

And I couldn’t wait.

Bobby the campervan and I had made it to the train station in excellent time. I parked up and walked across to the platform a couple of minutes before Tilly’s train was due in.

I positioned myself near the ‘Welcome to The Lakes’ sign and waited.

That sign had been the first thing I’d seen when I’d arrived three months ago at Easter. And now here I was, welcoming someone else, setting up my own business and living the Lakeland dream.

I was just on the verge of coming over all emotional when the station announcer piped up with the ‘next train to arrive at …’ message. Passengers immediately surged forward, the train came into view and ground to a halt and then I was surrounded by noise and people with their pushchairs, luggage and excitement. I stood on my tiptoes and searched for Tilly. She soon appeared, beaming and waving through the crowd, dragging a purple wheeled suitcase behind her.