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

‘He’ll be all right,’ said Bec, sounding stoic. ‘Now, tell me more of what’s on your list and I’ll drop you off closest to where you need to be.’

I quickly ran through everything and Bec suggested that Andersons, the timber yard and agricultural suppliers would be a good place to start. They opened early, and if the order was big enough, they’d deliver it straight to the farm. That was a blessing as I didn’t fancy carrying a roll of roofing felt around town.

‘And before you do your grocery shop,’ Bec said, after she’d given me a few directions, ‘come and find me in the Cherry Tree Café and I’ll treat you to a slice of cake. It’s on the square, so you won’t miss it.’

I was almost certain I’d seen it already. It had to be the pretty place I’d spotted the day I arrived.

‘I take it that’s where you’re working?’ I asked her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m doing a bit of waitressing and helping out with some of the crafting sessions one of the co-owners organises. It’s just until the Royal Academy accepts one of my paintings, of course,’ she added with a mischievous smile. ‘Then I’ll be able to permanently swap cupcakes for canvases.’

She stopped to let me out and gave another blast on the goose-like horn as I pulled open the door to Andersons and stepped inside. Wandering around an agricultural supply store might not have been everyone’s cup of tea, but I thoroughly enjoyed the time I spent seeking out all the things I needed for the farm, plus a couple of extra bits that caught my eye.

I negotiated a price for the end of a roll of roofing felt which had more than enough left on it for what I needed and then gave the address for where I wanted everything delivered.

‘Fenview Farm on Lady’s Drove?’ questioned the elderly employee who had rung everything up on the till, his bushy grey eyebrows raised.

‘That’s right,’ I nodded.

‘What, where Bill Brown lives?’ asked his younger colleague.

‘That’s the place,’ I reiterated, rifling through my bag for my purse.

‘I’m not sure his account is up to date,’ said the chap at the till.

He looked embarrassed and I wondered if Grandad had a hefty bill to settle. I didn’t ask, just in case. Thankfully, I could easily run to paying for the things I’d ordered.

‘I don’t want to put anything on account,’ I smiled. ‘I’ll pay for my order and I’m guessing free delivery is all part of the wonderful Anderson service I’ve been hearing so much about, isn’t it?’

‘As you’re paying today and the farm is only just out of our free drop off zone, then that will be fine,’ said the younger man, sounding relieved. ‘We can have it with you first thing Monday morning, if that suits.’

‘That’s perfect,’ I told them. ‘Thank you very much.’

I could tell they were gearing up to ask what my connection to the farm was and headed off before they had the chance.

The walk into town led me near the library and, as it was open, I ducked inside, keen to find out exactly what ID and paperwork I would need to sign up.

‘You wouldn’t happen to be Bill Brown’s granddaughter, would you?’ asked the woman on the desk when I enquired.

‘Yes,’ I frowned. ‘I am. How did you know that?’

‘He phoned earlier,’ she smiled. ‘He said you might pop in and that even though you couldn’t register with us yet, you’d appreciate access to a computer for a few minutes. Is that right?’

‘It is,’ I said. ‘Is that going to be possible?’

‘If I override the system,’ she winked. ‘I wouldn’t usually but as you’re a relative of Bill’s, I’ll make an exception.’

I thanked her profusely, then composed a lengthy email to the Rossi clan, explaining more about what had happened since my arrival, what Grandad was like, what the farm was like and finally, and with my breath held, that I wouldn’t be back in Puglia for quite some time.

It made no sense to hold my breath, we weren’t having a conversation and I wasn’t going to see his reaction, but I had the image of Marco in my head from the day I had left, urging me to go back practically on the return flight. I hoped he would understand my decision to want to get to know Fenview Farm and Grandad better. I knew Nonna and Alessandro would, so if he was upset, they’d hopefully be able to appease him. I was relying on them to pave the way for me to break the news that I might well want to stay in the Fens for ever.

With the explanation re-read and finally sent, and my heart rate steadying after the surprise of acknowledging the possibility of staying at the farm for good, I thanked the librarian again and carried on into the town centre. My stomach growled as soon as I caught sight of the Cherry Tree Café and I hoped the place had a good selection of cakes.

‘How did you find Andersons?’ Bec asked, almost before I was through the door.

‘It was great,’ I said, as my gaze swivelled around to take in the pastel spring themed interior and my nose picked up the sweet scent of warm pastries and hot coffee. ‘Wow,’ I grinned, ‘this place is divine.’

‘Wait until you taste one of Jemma’s cakes,’ said Bec. ‘Then you really will be in seventh heaven. Did you get everything you needed?’

‘Yes,’ I said, still looking about me, ‘and they’re going to deliver it all free of charge, which is a bonus.’

‘You must have charmed them with those long, tanned legs of yours,’ she said, giving me a nudge.

‘It wasn’t my legs,’ I whispered. ‘They were so shocked when I gave them the farm address that I took advantage of the moment and kind of railroaded them into it.’

‘Did you tell them who you are?’ she asked, steering me to an empty seat