A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

‘Oh, Mum,’ I sobbed as I came to a stop at the foot of one of the oldest cherry trees on the farm. I rested my back against the trunk and slid down, coming to a bump on the hard ground.

I tugged the envelope out of my pocket and arranged the lantern so I could read what was inside. The writing didn’t look much like Mum’s. It was spidery, obviously scribbled before her strength had left her and she couldn’t even hold up her head, let alone control a pen. I pushed the image away. I didn’t want to think of her like that. She had always been so vibrant and full of energy, that was what I needed to remember.

Even though the words didn’t look like hers, the tone was unmistakably Mum’s; I could imagine her standing over me and I could hear her voice in my head.

‘This can’t be true,’ I whispered into the evening air as I scanned the page. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘It is,’ came her swift response, clear as the night sky and carried on the chilly breeze. ‘You must.’

I looked at the letter again.

Fliss, I have something to tell you, something I should have told you years ago but I could never find the words. I know it will come as a shock and I hope you can forgive me.

I could tell the letter had been hastily written, as if she wanted to commit her confession to paper before she changed her mind… or ran out of time.

Do you remember when you told me you didn’t want to travel with me anymore? That you’d seen enough of the world, and that you wanted to stay at the farm because it was where your roots were planted?

I did remember saying that, and mostly because of her reaction. Rather than laugh my words off, as I had expected her to in her free-spirited I-refuse-to-be-tethered kind of way, she had been upset. I had always assumed she was disappointed that I wasn’t going to carry on following in her flighty footsteps, but apparently not.

The truth is, I stayed away for so long after that because I was feeling guilty. I know you will roll your eyes at that because you’ve always said I’m too self-absorbed to feel bad about anything…

I wasn’t rolling my eyes. Far from it.

… but I did feel awful and that’s because I have kept something from you Fliss. I have kept something important from you and the Rossis. Your roots shouldn’t be planted here in Puglia because you have family elsewhere. I know I’ve always maintained it’s just the two of us in the world, but it isn’t. It never has been.

When I left the UK in search of your father, I left my family behind. I never got on with my dad, but I think you might. I think you might be a better fit for the family farm than I was too. I think your roots should be there, Fliss, buried in the British Fenland soil, not planted here in Italy where I put them.

I know I’m not in a position to make demands, but I think you should go to the farm and see it for yourself. It’s called Fenview Farm, and it’s near a town called Wynbridge. Go and find it before you finally settle on your place in the world.

I’m sorry I never told you any of this before and I’m sorry there’s no time now to tell you more. I hope you can forgive me. I’m not sure I can forgive myself.

With all my love, Mum xxx

I stared at the letter, my hands shaking with more than the cold. Countless times both Mum and Nonna had recounted how she had arrived at the farm pregnant and looking for the boy she had had a holiday romance with. The address he had given her didn’t exist, but the Rossis did and they had taken her in. Their farm became ours. It was where I belonged.

Or at least it was where I had always believed I belonged. I had never given a thought to what Mum’s life had been before Puglia, but now I knew she had grown up on a farm in England that bore the Brown name and she had left it behind, along with her family, and I felt shocked to my very core. She must have fled under one hell of a cloud if it had stopped her going back.

‘Fliss!’

The sudden voice, cutting through the silence, made me jump. I almost dropped the letter and pulled in a lungful of air. I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath.

‘Fliss!’ bawled the voice again.

It was Marco, Alessandro’s son, Nonna’s handsome grandson. The man I thought of as my brother. We had grown up on the farm together. I had been there for him when he lost his mamma and now, he was here for me as I tried to navigate my way through saying goodbye to mine.

‘I’m here!’ I shouted back, making the dogs in the yard bark.

‘Sbrigati!’

‘I’ll be there in a minute.’

‘It’s time to eat!’

The long day had been punctuated by nothing but crying and eating. In fact, the whole of the last few days had been an exhausting mix of the two. I really didn’t think I could manage to do more of either.

‘Sbrigati,’ came Marco’s demand again.

‘I am hurrying,’ I muttered, trying to slip the letter back into my pocket and only then realising that there was another, slightly smaller, envelope inside the first.

‘What are you doing out here?’ Marco asked, his voice closer as he negotiated the path I had taken through the trees, aided by the torch on his phone. ‘It’s too cold.’

‘I just wanted a minute,’ I sniffed, my eyes quickly scanning the second envelope which had the request ‘please pass on when you arrive’ scribbled on the back.

Mum obviously expected me to deliver her missive, but that wasn’t going to happen. I wouldn’t be