Page 23 of Daydreams at the Farm on Muddypuddle Lane
Maisie hoped she wouldn’t need any luck; she hoped she would be a natural.
From the ruckus that had been coming from the barn every morning for the past couple of days, Adam assumed that milking goats must take a bit of practice. He was halfway through the renovations to the pasteurisation shed and every day so far this week he’d heard irritated bleating, buckets being overturned and some choice swear words.
He hadn’t mentioned anything until now, but this third date with Maisie seemed an ideal opportunity to bring it up. It was Wednesday evening, and they were having a meal in The Black Horse.
‘How is the milking going?’ he asked.
‘Ugh! It’s not.’ Maisie shuddered.
‘I did hear some swearing,’ he admitted, ‘so I guessed as much.’
‘Petra has promised to show Dulcie how it’s done tomorrow. Surely it can’t be that difficult? And what will happen when we try to milk them mechanically?’
Adam smirked. ‘I’m glad it’s not my problem. I’ll stick to engines, thanks.’
‘When will you be finished?’
‘Friday, if I don’t hit any snags.’ He would be sorry the job was ending: seeing Maisie every day had been the highlight. He was hoping to continue to see her after it was over, but he supposed that depended on how much longer she would be in Picklewick. She didn’t appear to be in any hurry to return to Birmingham, and she had even indicated that she would like to make the village her permanent home.
The sound of tinny music had Maisie scrabbling around in her bag, and when she saw who was calling, her face fell. ‘It’s my mum,’ she said. ‘I’d better take this, sorry.’
Adam didn’t mind in the slightest. He was curious about her family, and although he tried not to look as though he was ear-wigging, it was impossible not to hear,considering she was holding the conversion less than a metre away.
‘Hi, Mum... No, not tonight, I’m out for a meal... The Black Horse... With Adam...Adam. He’s installing the past— Not yet… I don’t know... I would have thought you’d enjoy not having to tidy up after me. Look, Mum, I’ve got to go… Love you, too.’
She made sure the call had ended, then sent him an apologetic look. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t expecting her to phone. I only spoke to her yesterday. She’s missing me. I don’t know why – she spends most of the time grumbling that I treat the house like a hotel.’ Maisie’s expression was sheepish. ‘She’s right: I do. I think the problem is that I’ve never left home. Why is it that I revert to about sixteen when I’m with her?’
Adam’s parents were the same; they didn’t seem able to trust his judgement when it came to what he wanted to do with his life.
Maisie continued, ‘It doesn’t help that I’m the baby of the family. I don’t think she likes the idea of her last chick flying the nest.’ She sighed. ‘She’s nagging me to go home, but the longer I’m here, the more like home it’s beginning to feel. Except it’s notmyhome, it’s Dulcie’s, and I don’t know if she’ll put up with me for more than another couple of weeks.’
‘Is it Picklewick itself you like, or the farm?’
‘Both, but the farm especially. I like working with animals.’
‘Aren’t there any animal-related jobs in Birmingham?’
‘Possibly. Why? Are you trying to get rid of me?’
‘Absolutely not.’ His reply was emphatic. The thought of her returning to her hometown made him feel rather sad.
‘I’m glad.’ Her gaze captured his and he was momentarily lost in her eyes.
She broke the spell. ‘Fancy another?’ Their glasses were empty, as were their plates.
‘I’d better have a soft drink,’ he said, having already enjoyed a pint with his meal.
‘If you want another, I don’t mind walking back to the farm,’ she offered.
‘I am not letting you walk home on your own; it’s nearly dark.’ He had a thought. ‘Would you like to come back to mine foran hour?’ And when he noticed her hesitation, he hastily added, ‘Just for a coffee, I promise. I might even be able to stretch to a Jaffa cake or a chocolate Hobnob.’
‘Now you’re talking! Who can resist a chocolate Hobnob?’
Adam smirked. ‘I know the way to a woman’s heart.’
It struck him as he said it, that he wished hedidknow the way to Maisie’s heart, because he abruptly realised that she was beginning to worm her way into his.
Maisie assumed she must have passed Adam’s place on the way into and out of the village on several occasions, but she had never given it a second glance. It wasa stand-alone building, three stories high, with a set of large garage-type wooden doors dominating the ground floor. They were painted sky-blue, but had seen better days. As had the door next to it, which she assumed led to the living area upstairs. The brickwork was a dingy cream render, and there was a concreted area at the front daubed with oil stains. An old sign above the garage doors saidMOTs HEREand the outside looked run-down and unloved.
