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

‘I don’t really know,’ I told him, shifting a little to block his view.

I still hadn’t got around to asking Grandad what the things all amounted to and why they were there, but they must have meant something to someone in my family and consequently I felt protective towards the motley assortment.

‘Looks to me like you want a skip, love,’ said the driver. ‘You need to have a good clear-out.’

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that I wasn’t his ‘love’, but settled on not tipping him instead.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I tightly said. ‘One man’s junk and all that.’

With the chat firmly nipped in the bud and my order stored, I decided the first thing I was going to do was mend the cages. The opportunistic blackbird had been back again and I knew that if he had a nest nearby then his fledglings would be feasting on the farm profits before long.

Opening the barn might have kicked off my curiosity about the collection again, but there would be plenty of time to ask Grandad about that once the most urgent chores and tasks were ticked off my list.

And talking of Grandad…

‘What on earth are you doing?’ I called, as I lugged the roofing felt and cage mending supplies over to the freshly scrubbed henhouse.

He was attempting to drag one of the garden chairs across to the wheelbarrow that I was going to use to ferry the other things I needed.

‘You’re going to repair the fruit cages, aren’t you?’ he asked, coming to a stop and sounding a little out of breath.

‘That’s right.’

‘I want to come and watch you do it then,’ he puffed. ‘And I’ll need something to sit on by the time I’ve walked all that way.’

It wasn’t all that far, but I was pleased he knew his limits.

‘Are you checking up on me?’

‘Absolutely,’ he grinned, his eyes sparkling. ‘I’ve only got your word for it that you know what you’re doing, after all.’

‘Fine by me,’ I laughed, before walking back to the kitchen for the large umbrella which was propped behind the door.

‘It’s not going to rain,’ Grandad tutted.

‘I know,’ I said. ‘But it’s going to get hot and you don’t want heatstroke, do you?’

‘You’d better get some drinks as well then,’ he suggested. ‘We don’t want to dehydrate either.’

It took a little while to reach the cages. The barrow was heavy and a bit wobbly with the stepladder balanced across it and it was the furthest Grandad had walked since his surgery.

‘It’s going to take us longer to get set up, than it will for you to do the job,’ Grandad grumbled, sounding frustrated and fed up. ‘I should have stayed inside.’

‘No, you shouldn’t,’ I told him. ‘This is a milestone for me. The first proper job I’ve done on the farm and I love that you’re with me while I do it.’

He looked happier after that and took up his position in the chair, protected from the sun by the umbrella which featured Moto GP drivers.

‘It belongs to Eliot,’ said Grandad.

‘Well, I didn’t think it was your style.’

Was there no part of the farm that Eliot hadn’t infiltrated? I was supposed to be setting my thoughts about him aside while I worked and yet, here he was again. Wherever I turned the leather clad carer popped up. I quickly turned my attention back to the task in hand.

‘You’ve done a grand job,’ Grandad proudly said, when I finally finished.

‘We’ve done a grand job,’ I amended, standing back to look. ‘You’ve done just as much as me.’

There had been more holes than I first realised and he’d fixed those that were within reach, while I had mended the highs and lows, so he didn’t have to bend and stretch. The blackbird had been indignantly squawking throughout, but he would have to go and find someone else’s profit to pick his way through because we needed every penny of ours.

‘I’m going to do some weeding,’ I said, ‘and then we’ll stop for lunch, shall we?’

‘That sounds like a grand idea,’ said Grandad, sitting back down and rearranging the umbrella because the sun had shifted.

I looked over at him and smiled. Day on day he was looking better, and that morning, with the benefit of the sunshine and a task to keep him occupied, he positively glowed. It was amazing to think it was just ten days ago that I had arrived and he had been so poorly. It was also amazing to think that it was just ten days ago, full stop.

Whether it was because I was used to working on a fruit farm and familiar with the routine, or whether it was because this was my family farm and where I truly belonged, I couldn’t be sure, but I felt as though I’d been at Fenview Farm for far longer. Mum’s suggestion that I would be a good fit here, had turned out to be right. So far at least.

I hummed as I worked my way between the bushes, hoeing up some weeds and pulling up others, while Grandad watched from outside, chatting companionably to the still irate blackbird.

‘That’ll do for today,’ I said, grimacing as I stretched out my aching back and checked my phone. It showed me the time, but precious little else. ‘Definitely time for lunch.’

We had a scratch meal of bread, cheese, fruit and chutney and then Grandad went for a nap while I measured, cut and hammered on the new roof for the henhouse. After that, I headed back over to the barn. Throughout the morning, when I wasn’t thinking about Eliot, Marco or Mum, my mind had drifted back to it and I was eager to have another look.

The cat was asleep on top of one of the tea-chests and when she realised I was going to be moving stuff about, she stretched and yawned and stalked out, no doubt resolved to find somewhere else to snooze the rest of the day away.

This time I