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

hard work, I’d forgotten that Grandad had a surprise that required my driving licence.

‘Bugger,’ Jake laughed, clapping his hand over his mouth. ‘I almost let the cat out of the bag there. Don’t tell Bill. He’ll have my guts for garters.’

‘Your secret is safe with me,’ I told him, even though I was bursting to pump him for further information.

It was no surprise that it was Little Miss Bossy who first emerged from the henhouse. She was soon followed by the other two and they stalked about, scratching at the ground and clucking over any tasty morsels they unearthed.

‘It’s amazing that they know what to do, isn’t it?’ I mused, squatting down to watch them. ‘You’d think their instincts would have been squashed after that year in a cage.’

‘It’s nearer eighteen months they’re kept like that,’ Jake sadly said. ‘But I’ve never housed one yet who hasn’t got the hang of life beyond the confines of the cage.’

‘That’s good,’ I said, standing up again. ‘These look as though they’ve been here for ever already, don’t they Grandad?’

‘They do,’ he agreed. ‘And they’re going to be worth their weight in golden eggs when it comes to helping us clear the fruit cages after harvest.’

‘Oh yes,’ said Jake. ‘They’ll love that.’

He looked at his watch.

‘Crikey,’ he said. ‘We’d better get going. Amber and Annie are laying on lunch in your honour, Fliss. We’ll skip that refill you were just about to offer us, Bill.’

Grandad rolled his eyes and took our empty glasses.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’ Jake asked him. ‘I can drop Fliss off and easily come back for you.’

‘No, but thank you for the offer,’ Grandad said. ‘I’m actually looking forward to a bit more peace and quiet.’

I wondered if Eliot might call in again and interrupt Grandad’s longed-for solitude. If he did, he’d only be offered coffee to drink!

‘I’ll just get changed,’ I said, noticing my slightly grubby straw covered vest and shorts.

‘No time,’ said Jake. ‘Come on.’

Skylark Farm was closer than I expected, so there was no opportunity for my courage or freshly found willingness to mingle, to fail me. He explained, shouting over the noise of the engine and the wind rushing by, that Bill and Annie had known each other for ever and that she had been really worried about him until she heard that I’d shown up.

‘To be honest,’ said Jake, his volume lessening as he slowed down at his farm, which was easily identified by a large and smart painted sign at the gate, ‘we’ve all been worried. Chris Dempster and I both thought the farm was going to fold and Bill was going to end up in a home or something. He was so frail and… well, defeated.’

‘But not now?’

‘God no,’ he said, swinging in. ‘I could hardly say anything to his face, but it was a shock seeing him today. And a good one. He looked like a changed man. You’ve given him a new lease of life and I hope, we all hope, that you’re going to be staying for good.’

I was just about to tell him that we still had to work the finer details out, but it was certainly looking that way, when I caught sight of a very familiar Ducati parked up at the farmhouse.

‘Oh,’ smiled Jake. ‘Eliot’s here. Maybe he’ll stay for lunch too. He’s been popping in to sit with Annie while Amber and I are busy on the farm. Not that we’d let her think that’s what he’s here for. She had a fall earlier in the year but she’s a stubborn cuss and wouldn’t appreciate us thinking that she needs minding.’

‘Has she not worked it out?’ I asked.

I couldn’t think of any other reason why she might think Eliot would spend time with her. Unless of course, she just liked his company. From the little I knew of him so far, it seemed like everyone else did, so that was most likely it.

‘If she has, she hasn’t let on,’ Jake told me. ‘I daresay you’ve already met Eliot, haven’t you? What with him being such a close friend of Bill’s too.’

‘Yes,’ I said, picking more straw off my clothes. ‘Our paths have crossed.’

I spent a very happy afternoon at Skylark Farm. Amber was every inch the picture-perfect farming type in her Joules patterned wellies, and Annie, with her periwinkle eyes and sharp wit, was both shrewd and observant. She reminded me of a Fenland equivalent of Nonna Rossi. Amber and Jake had two children, but they were at school, so it was just the five of us for lunch. Six if you counted the elderly Labrador scouting for crumbs.

Eliot and I said a brief, but slightly awkward, hello and I did my utmost to steer the conversation away from talk of how long I was planning to stay at Fenview Farm. The last thing I wanted was him picking at the thread he’d started to pull at the day of too much fizz.

We ate outside, in a set-up not all that dissimilar to the one Grandad and I had established, and which largely featured delicious fare in the form of pork, honey and apples, which were all produced on the farm.

‘It’s a beautiful place you’ve got here,’ I said, looking around and taking in the pretty garden, tidy yard and well-maintained farmhouse.

There was a wooden building which looked quite new and was covered in bright hanging baskets. That, Jake told me, was where they sold their produce, along with some of the Fenview Farm fruit, direct to the public. They also had a stall at the fortnightly farmers’ market in Wynbridge.

Skylark Farm made Fenview look shabby by comparison, but I knew I needed to keep my mind focused on sorting the farm finances before I dealt with the aesthetics. Helping the farm make more money had to take precedence over making it look pretty, for now at least.

‘Thank you,’ smiled Amber, clearly delighted with the compliment. ‘We’re very happy here and it