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

Grandad sounded mortified. He had explained that the family had never gone in for borrowing in a big way and living off money that didn’t exist didn’t sit well with him.

‘My father always told me,’ he said, sounding even more upset, ‘that if you didn’t have the money to buy something outright, then you went without it.’

‘That’s a wonderful ethos to live by,’ I said, ‘but times have changed and that’s not always possible, is it? I daresay the farm earned its money differently when your father was alive, didn’t it?’

‘That it did,’ he agreed.

‘Well,’ I said, shuffling the papers together and sounding more confident than I felt, ‘I’d see this current situation as a minor blip, Grandad. This deal with Jemma couldn’t have come at a better time and it’s going to be a big help. It’s not going to be the answer to everything, but you can go to the bank and tell them that you’ve got a lucrative new contract which will help clear the overdraft and a granddaughter brimming with ideas to pull the finances out of the red and back into the black.’

Grandad looked rather taken aback. ‘Are you brimming with ideas?’ he asked.

‘No,’ I said, with a smile. ‘Not really. But they don’t need to know that, do they? And I’m sure I will be soon. Something else will come along, I just know it, and in the meantime, I’m happy to live frugally.’

My time in Italy had taught me how to appreciate life’s simple pleasures. Home-cooked food, friendship and family were what really mattered and now I had further opportunity to enjoy all three in abundance.

‘And I have more than enough saved to clear these other outstanding accounts,’ I added, nodding at the ‘to be paid’ pile.

Grandad vehemently shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There has to be another way. In fact, there is something else, Fliss…’

‘No,’ I interrupted. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I’m living here now too, and I want to contribute and pay my way. I’d like to help pull Fenview Farm into the future, both by the work I can do and the little financial support I can offer. I’m going to be here for a very long time Grandad. Which,’ I pushed on, ‘brings me on to what Eliot said earlier.’

‘Yes,’ said Grandad. ‘I thought that might come up.’

‘You aren’t worried that I’m going to disappear like Mum did, are you? I hadn’t realised that you’d talked to Eliot about my life in Italy.’

‘Of course, I’m not,’ he said, every bit as forcefully as I had when I made my speech a moment ago. ‘You might be your mother’s daughter, but I know you’d never do that. I know you’re here for a long time, Fliss, and I don’t know what got into Eliot.’

‘Too much champagne?’ I suggested, relieved that he hadn’t jumped to the same conclusion as Bec.

I was going to have to be extra careful when I talked about Eliot around her now. The last thing I needed was for her to work out that the feelings she’d guessed he had for me were reciprocated.

‘Well, yes,’ said Grandad, with a small smile. ‘I think that probably was a factor. He doesn’t usually drink.’

‘So Bec said.’

‘The bubbles definitely went to his head,’ he laughed, then looked thoughtful, as if he was trying to puzzle something out.

‘Well,’ I quickly cut in, before he could speculate further, ‘let’s keep a dry house from now on, shall we?’

‘Sounds good to me,’ he chuckled.

As it was getting late, we decided to call it a day. I was pleased to draw a line under the conversation but relieved that I had had the opportunity to say my piece and that Grandad was convinced that I wasn’t going to be rushing back to Italy. I was also pleased that I was going to be able to help Fenview Farm in a bigger way than simply flexing my muscles, even if Grandad was reluctant to let me.

And with that in mind, he was going to get in touch with the bank and explain how things were changing and as I slipped into sleep, I hoped that Eliot’s imminent hangover would act as a reminder to him that he needed to work as hard to keep the feelings we had for one another under wraps as I was. I had already resolved to embrace life at the farm without a love affair complicating things, and Eliot needed to stick to that plan too.

Andersons were as good as their word and their delivery van rolled into the yard just as I was finishing breakfast early Monday morning. It was another clear bright day and the forecast was looking good for the whole week, which was a blessing.

The sunshine would enable me to get on with my list of jobs, stop me fretting over Eliot and the fact that I still hadn’t had a reply to my email to Marco. I knew that was most likely because of lack of phone signal at the farm, which meant my account wouldn’t update, but there was a tiny part of me that was worried that he was upset about my decision to stay on at Fenview.

‘Where do you want it all, love?’ shouted the chipper Andersons delivery driver as he hopped out.

I knew it wasn’t the sort of thing that usually raised the heart rate of a woman in her twenties, but what I was looking at was some of my contribution to keeping my family farm on track and, as a result, I felt my roots stretch a little deeper and hold on a little tighter to the Fenland soil beneath my feet.

‘In here will be fine, thanks,’ I said, pulling open the barn doors. ‘If you could stack it all at the front, then I can move it as I need it.’

‘What’s all this lot then?’ he asked eyeing the tea-chests and boxes as he ferried the things