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

I gave Jemma the full tour, explaining what would be coming into season and when and she was enthralled with everything.

‘This is just the sort of collab I’m looking for,’ she said excitedly as we walked around. ‘I’ve got a similar set-up with Jake and Amber from Skylark Farm.’

‘I guessed as much from what I read on the back of the café menu,’ I told her, stopping to pluck a couple of strawberries which had conveniently ripened just in time.

By the looks of it, I was going to have to start making daily checks of the rows. Mindful of Grandad’s concerns, I didn’t want to waste a single fruit and the straw delivery couldn’t come soon enough now.

Jemma closed her eyes as she bit into the soft, sweet flesh.

‘Plucked straight from the plant,’ she said, chewing appreciatively. ‘You can’t get any better than that, can you?’

‘You certainly can’t,’ I agreed, picking a few for Grandad. ‘And I can easily get them to you within just a couple of hours of picking.’

Or at least I could if I had transport. I was really going to have to address that situation sooner rather than later, but in the meantime, perhaps Bec might be able to help me out. She certainly had the right vehicle for ferrying fruit about!

‘Come and see what we’ve got in the cages,’ I said to Jemma, determined not to let concerns about my lack of wheels jeopardise our deal. ‘There’s nothing ripe yet, but you’ll be able to get an idea of the yields we can offer.’

An hour later, going organic had been discussed, along with apple, pear and plum varieties and the deal was done. It was all sealed over a few more strawberries and some sumptuously frosted cupcakes which felt and tasted like a wonderful way to do business to me.

‘This is a lovely barn,’ said Jemma, nodding over to where Grandad’s Fenland collection was stored as she prepared to leave. ‘I don’t suppose you’d consider selling it, would you?’

‘Absolutely not,’ I said, before Grandad had a chance to answer.

‘I didn’t think so,’ she laughed, ‘but I thought I’d ask. Tom and I rather fancy taking on a conversion project.’

‘If it had been built further away from the house then it might have been a possibility, but I don’t think it would be ideal having someone living so close by, do you Grandad?’

He looked at the barn, but didn’t answer.

‘There’d be all sorts of issues with access too.’ I pointed out. ‘What with sharing the drive and everything and especially as this is a working farm.’

‘That’s fair enough,’ said Jemma. ‘Let’s just stick to the fruit deal then. Tom would probably have had forty fits if I told him I’d put a deposit down on a barn, rather than a fruit harvest this afternoon!’

Once she’d gone, I indulged in a little happy dance, which made Grandad laugh.

‘Now all I need to do, is sort out some transport to get the fruit to town every day,’ I said, linking my arm through his, ‘and we’ll be all set.’

‘Oh, that’s no problem,’ he said, pulling me closer to his side. ‘By this time tomorrow you’ll be up and running. You have got a driving licence, haven’t you?’

I stopped and looked at him. What was he talking about?

‘Yes.’

‘And it’s here?’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Have you got your licence or not?’

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It’s Italian, but I can drive on it here for a year, I think. Then I have to get it transferred to a British one.’

‘Good,’ he said, before mysteriously adding, ‘I’ll need to borrow it later.’

‘Are you going to tell me why?’ I asked, dancing around him again.

‘No,’ he laughed. ‘I want it to be a surprise. Let’s go and have another cake.’

I wasn’t sure I needed more sugar, but I followed him back inside wondering what exactly he was going to surprise me with the next day.

Chapter 13

The following morning Grandad and I made the most of the time before his friend, Jake, was due to arrive with the straw and hens, by shifting the henhouse into position and surrounding it with a simply constructed run.

‘I know I said we wouldn’t bother with a run,’ said Grandad, as he handed me the stakes and ties so I could hammer it into the ground, ‘but I’ve been giving it some more thought and, as these are ex-battery girls, I reckon they’ll feel a bit more secure in an enclosed space for a while.’

I had to agree and the spot we’d picked, still just in sight of the house, but in the shade of a tree, was perfect.

‘It was fortunate you remembered you had this,’ I said, as I hammered in the last stake. ‘It’s just the job.’

‘It’s getting on a bit,’ said Grandad, giving it a shake to make sure I’d secured it properly. ‘But it can still do the job.’

‘A bit like you then,’ I grinned up at him.

‘You cheeky beggar,’ he laughed.

A horn tooted in the yard.

‘That’ll be Jake,’ he said, distracted from my mischievous comment. ‘Let’s go and see what he’s got for us, shall we?’

I felt a bit nervous about meeting Jake Somerville. I knew he was a good friend of Grandad’s and had been more than generous when it came to helping keep Fenview Farm running during the last couple of years. I smoothed down my work shirt, my heart skipping in my eagerness to make a good impression, but I needn’t have worried. Jake was kindness itself and not at all how I had imagined him.

He was about twenty years younger for a start. Definitely older than me, but not by all that much. Unkempt haired with hazel flecked eyes, a ready smile and a firm handshake. He pumped my hand with something akin to relief as he said how pleased he was to meet me and that he hoped Grandad wasn’t giving me too much trouble.

‘He’s behaving himself so far,’ I said, returning