Page 29 of Second Chances at the Farm on Muddypuddle
‘But that’s the problem – nothingisbeing done. I want to know when I can move in. Do you realise the conditions I’m living in at the moment?’
Zander bit his lip. The couple looked like rabbits caught in headlights. Their eyes were out on stalks and they were staring at her as though she’d lost her mind.
Perhaps she had. Walter had the ability to bring out the worst in her.
‘Disgraceful, that’s what it is,’ she cried. ‘I can’t take much more of it.’
Zander said, ‘I’ll, um, get onto them right now. In a minute. When I’ve finished dealing with my current clients.’
‘Yourcurrent clientis standing right here and wants you to phone my landlord immediately. I’m not leaving until you do.’
‘Go ahead,’ the chap said to Zander. ‘I think this lady’s need is greater than ours.’
Zander nodded, his jaw tense. Beth felt a twinge of remorse, but it didn’t last. The chap was right, her needwasgreater.
But Beth wasn’t in luck. There was no answer when Zander phoned, and she had to concede defeat. With Zander’s promise to keep trying and that he would phone her as soon as he had any news, Beth left his office with a heavy heart.
She really thought she was going to cry, as tears pricked her eyes. Walter was right: she was stupid. She must be, to have thought she could pull this off. She had gone from being comfortable (if somewhat lonely) in her house in Birmingham, to being extremely uncomfortable living in the home of the most obnoxious man on the planet. And she had no one to blame but herself.
Beth felt a touch on her arm as a voice said, ‘Hello, Beth. I thought it was you.’ Lena was standing in front of her, gazing at her in concern. ‘Are you okay?’
Beth shook her head. ‘Not really.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘Not unless you can magically repair a collapsed ceiling.’
‘Oh, dear. Do you want to talk about it? We could go for a coffee. Things often seem better after a chat.’
Beth didn’t think it would be better at all, but a coffee and a chat would be very welcome, nevertheless.
As soon as they were settled in the squishy chairs near the window, cappuccinos in hand, Lena wanted to know what had got Beth so upset.
‘It’s Walter,’ Beth said, and went on to explain.
Lena listened without interruption, until Beth ground to a halt, embarrassed. ‘It sounds so daft when I say it out loud,’ she muttered. ‘He’s not a bad person, but he’s not the easiest man to get on with, and when the pair of us are together we fight like two rats in a bag.’
Lena said, ‘I don’t know Walter particularly well, but Amos does. He reckons Walter is a typical farmer: stoic and taciturn, but he’s got a heart of gold.’
‘He hides it well.’
‘I might be wrong, but I think he’s had a lot of heartache in his life. His wife died when Otto was a teenager, and Walter raised him whilst trying to keep the farm going. That can’t have been easy.’
‘No, it can’t,’ Beth agreed softly. She hadn’t realised. She knew all too well how hard it was being a single parent.
‘And there was all that trouble before Dulcie took over the farm.’
‘What trouble?’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘Dulcie mentioned something about Otto having to raffle the farm off, but I couldn’t have been listening.’
Lena studied her. ‘What I’m about to tell you is common knowledge, so I’m not speaking out of turn or breaking any confidences, but it might help you understand Walter a bit better. Hang on.’ She beckoned the waitress over and ordered two more coffees.
Beth was intrigued. She hadn’t really gone into the details of how Dulcie had acquired the farm. All she knew was that her daughter had won it in a lottery and that it used to belong to Walter. Dulcie was forever complaining that the farm was a money pit – hence the drive to make soap, sell goats milk, have open days, and so on – so Beth had assumed that running a sheep farm had got too much for Walter, and he had decided to retire. At around the same time, Otto had come back to Picklewick to live, and the two of them, father and son, had moved into the cottage on Muddypuddle Lane when Dulcie had acquired the farm.
Lena drank some of her coffee and settled back. ‘Walter has kept that farm going singlehandedly since Otto left to go to catering college. It’s not easy being a farmer, but he was fifteen, maybe twenty years younger then, and he coped. But gradually he stopped coping. Amos feels guilty because he had no idea that Walter was struggling, until the Christmas before last whenhe collapsed and was rushed into hospital. When Otto came to see him, he realised that not only was Walter mentally and physically exhausted, but he had also run up huge debts trying to keep the farm afloat. Dealing with all that worry, whilst hiding it from everyone – Otto included – had taken its toll, and Amos told me that Otto had worried that Walter wouldn’t recover. I must admit that I was shocked when I saw him; he was all skin and bone, and looked so frail… I didn’t recognise him.’
