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

‘He’s just relieved I didn’t talk Bill into selling it so we could convert it, aren’t you?’ she giggled, planting a kiss on his cheek. ‘We’ve gone off the idea now.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Bec. ‘It seems to me that you’ve already got more than enough on your plate.’

‘Oh Bec, don’t say that,’ I whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear, ‘she might change her mind about signing up for a Cherry Tree evening at the barn.’

‘No chance,’ said Jemma. ‘I’m already planning it in my head.’

Bec looked at me and raised her eyebrows.

‘Sounds like you’re on to a winner,’ she smiled.

It felt like it too. Or it would if Jake would only say something.

‘What do you think, Jake?’ I asked. ‘Is this the sort of thing you had in mind when we talked at Skylark Farm?’

He shifted in his seat.

‘Exactly the sort of thing,’ he confirmed, but he didn’t look very happy about it.

‘Oh good,’ I smiled and Amber looked away.

‘But the thing is, Fliss,’ he then carried on. ‘I was so buoyed up after that conversation we had that I started looking for other potential venues straightaway.’

‘Oh,’ I said, my heart sinking, ‘I see.’

‘And I found somewhere willing to offer us an exclusive contract to serve our food every few weeks.’

I felt winded.

‘Meaning that if you have Skylark produce events there,’ I asked, ‘you can’t have them anywhere else?’

‘Exactly,’ he said. ‘Committing to them would mean we couldn’t be a part of the Fenview Farm venture. If only I’d known before what you’d been thinking, I wouldn’t have looked elsewhere.’

It was a blow and I swallowed down the bitter knowledge that had it not been for Grandad’s initial reluctance he would have known. Had I talked to Jake before Grandad, as I wished I had when Grandad initially said no, then he would have been in the loop from the start. The pork and apple products from Skylark Farm were such a major draw, I had imagined their events being some of the most popular by far.

‘Is this going to affect our contract, Jake?’ Jemma asked.

‘No,’ he told her. ‘Don’t worry about that. It’s just our finished dishes this place is interested in, not the raw produce. We’ll still be able to supply you and carry on selling direct on the farm and at the market too.’

Amber looked at me and back to Jake.

‘But we haven’t actually signed the contract yet, have we?’ she reminded him, offering me a glimmer of hope. ‘Nothing’s been made official.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘I was all set to next week, but having listened to what you’re planning Fliss, I’m not so sure now. I’d far rather support you and Bill than this other place which was a compromise really and nothing out of the ordinary, but I’d need to see what exactly you have in mind before I commit.’

‘Is that going to be possible?’ Amber encouragingly asked me. ‘When’s your first event going to be?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Jemma. ‘You need a trial run, Fliss. That way you can tempt Jake away from this other venue and let us see exactly what you have in mind. You could serve up some fruity desserts, couldn’t you?’

I puffed out my cheeks, aware that they were all looking at me. This was all happening far faster than I had expected and I had no idea what Grandad would say, but I couldn’t risk losing potential Skylark Farm supper evenings, could I?

‘How about next Saturday night?’ I said, embracing Mum’s act first, think later philosophy. On this occasion I thought it more important than my slow and steady approach to things. ‘Are you all free?’

The answer was a resounding yes and I gulped down more of my gin. It was mad to think that I would be able to pull it off in just a week, especially with everything else that needed doing on the farm, but I didn’t have much choice.

‘It will only be a taster of what I have in mind,’ I told them all as they chattered excitedly away and Jake looked at me and smiled. ‘So you can get a sense of what the space is like, and we’ll be sitting on straw bales until I can source tables and chairs so you’ll need to bring blankets and rugs because they’re a bit scratchy.’

‘What about glasses and cutlery?’ someone asked. ‘Shall we bring our own?’

‘No,’ I said, ‘I can manage those, and crockery, but my budget won’t run to alcohol so please bring whatever you want to drink.’

There was so much to think about. I needed to start making some serious lists.

‘Will that be enough do you think?’ I asked Jake. ‘To tempt you away from this other place, as Jemma put it?’

‘I’ll answer that next week,’ he said, with a smile. ‘If that’s all right with you?’

That was fair enough. Grandad might have been a good friend, but this was business we were talking about.

‘Of course,’ I said, feeling more determined than ever to make it all work.

‘Here’s to the secret supper club,’ said Jemma, drawing everyone’s attention again. ‘A brand-new venture for Fenview Farm!’

We all raised our glasses in a toast and then Ben and Tom headed off to help get the music started and I went to the bar for more delicious gin and another lemonade for Bec.

‘I take it explaining your plans for the farm went well?’ said Eliot, who suddenly appeared beside me.

His breath was another gentle caress as he had to lean in to make himself heard and just like before, I felt my skin tingle in response, only this time more intently.

‘Quite well,’ I managed to shout back, over the opening bars of a rousing Mumford & Sons tune. ‘Not quite as perfectly as I’d hoped, but…’

‘What?’ Eliot mouthed.

‘I said… Oh never mind.’ I shook my head, knowing it would be impossible to explain now everyone was joining in with the lyrics.

‘Dance with me!’ Eliot yelled, as a few people filled the tiny space in