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

‘How’s it all going?’

I was indulgently mulling over thoughts of kissing Eliot as I was giving the barn one last sweep ahead of arranging the seating and working out how best to incorporate some of Grandad’s collection, however the sound of Louise’s voice hastily pulled me out of my fantasising reverie and put a bit more colour in my cheeks too.

‘Hey Louise,’ I blushed, as I leant the broom against a straw bale and shifted focus from her son to her. ‘So far, so good, but there’s a long way to go and I’m still struggling to get rid of the dust.’

With her hands planted on her hips, she took the space in.

‘You probably won’t until you’ve properly sealed the walls and floor,’ she practically pointed out. ‘If I were you, I’d stop sweeping and brushing until you can do that, otherwise you’ll just keep kicking it up.’

‘I think you’re right,’ I agreed. ‘I’m never going to banish it with a broom, am I? I can’t wait until the internet’s up and running and then I can start getting prices for things like sealant online.’

Banishing the motes was going to be quite an undertaking, but one I was very much looking forward to.

‘And you do know about the auction sales in town, don’t you?’ asked Louise, stepping further in and looking up at the ceiling and around the walls.

I had done the same myself when addressing Anthony’s concern about the soundness of the building, but I hadn’t found any of the problems he’d hinted at. It all seemed fine to me. Had it not, I would never have suggested having the trial run. I would have been inviting a structural surveyor around instead.

‘No,’ I said. ‘What auctions are these?’

‘Oh, they’ll be just the thing for you,’ she keenly said. ‘They’re at the town hall once a month and they sell anything and everything. It’ll be ideal place to go for bits and pieces for here. You can pick up tables and chairs for practically nothing and there’s always a good range of household items like cutlery and crocks.’

‘Oh wow,’ I said, thinking of the ever-growing list of things I was going to need once the events – hopefully – took off. ‘That does sound perfect.’

‘I’ll let you know when the next one is, but bear in mind it’s a bit of a mishmash. You probably won’t get complete sets of anything.’

It sounded more appealing by the minute. I wanted the supper club experience to be eclectic and unique, with a vintage twist, so mismatched would be ideal and most likely cost less. I knew I was getting a bit ahead of myself, thinking about décor and design, but now I had Grandad’s blessing and the idea had met with such enthusiastic approval from my Cherry Tree friends, there was no harm in dreaming, was there? Thinking big would hopefully help me convince Jake and Amber that Fenview Farm was the right place to serve their fabulous Skylark produce.

‘That’s fine by me,’ I smiled, already imagining the bargains I would be able to pick up. ‘Perfect in fact.’

‘I had a feeling it might be,’ said Louise, looking well pleased. ‘Do you happen to know where Bill is?’ she then asked. ‘He wanted me to come and give him a hand with something.’

‘I’m here,’ he said, briskly announcing himself in the doorway and making us both jump. ‘And Fliss doesn’t need to be bothered with details, Louise. She’s got more than enough going on.’

‘You scared me half to death,’ Louise tutted, fanning herself with her hand. ‘My temperature’s gone right through the roof. You can’t do that to a woman of my age without inducing a hot flush. You’ll have to wait for me to cool down now.’

‘No time for that,’ he said, walking out again. ‘Come on.’

I was intrigued to know what they were up to, but Grandad was right, I did have my hands full. I watched them walk away then turned my attention back to the barn and forgot all about the clandestine conversation happening in the house.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ drawled Bec as I ran her through the proposed list of taster desserts for Saturday night while we were picking the conveniently ripened plump and juicy red and blackcurrants. ‘Can’t you just make them all?’

‘Yes,’ I said, thinking of the delicious Anglo-Italian combos I’d come up with, ‘I certainly could.’

I was going for a fusion menu. The finest Fenview Farm fruit incorporated into my Italian favourites. I had briefly wondered about including Nonna’s tart, but the farm cherries weren’t ready and I really did want my first taste of it away from Puglia to be a more private experience and made with Fenview fruit.

‘Great,’ Bec smiled. ‘Because the semifreddo and sorbet both sound divine.’

‘But I’m not going to,’ I told her.

‘Why not?’ she pouted.

‘Because if I do, I’ll have nothing left to serve later in the season, will I, you clot.’

That was assuming the first evening was enough of a success to warrant thoughts of doing it again. Bec gave my pronouncement further thought, while I fretted on the whys and wherefores of the evening to come.

I was excited about the prospect of creating and managing the club, but as Saturday drew nearer, I was also increasingly worried that I wouldn’t be able to make it the total triumph I needed it to be. Without thinking, I began to twist and turn the selection of Mum’s bangles I had taken to wearing.

‘That’s fair enough,’ Bec finally agreed, before checking her watch. ‘I suppose you’re right. Crikey, I better get going.’

‘Oh blast,’ I said, when she showed me the time, ‘me too. It’s later than I thought and I’ve got to head to town. I need to pick up some stuff.’

I was planning to create a cosy ambient setting in the barn and with just two electric sockets installed, I was investing in an abundance of twinkling fairy lights to