Page 61 of The House at Hope Corner
Less than two weeks ago she and Hannah had sown tray after tray of flower seeds and, even though she hadn’t really been aware of the farm’s problems at the time, had she somehow known what the solution could be? Common sense told her that it couldn’t possibly be the case, but the wheel of Flora’s life often turned according to her intuition, and she had never doubted it before.
The year just gone had been her last as a florist. She’d been struggling for a while and, although the loan had helped in the short term, she’d known she was fooling herself, pretending that business would pick up and get back to how it had been before. And then had come the day when her world had fallen apart and it had taken less than a week for her to figure out what she must do. After that, it had all seemed so simple. Her own need for change had coincided with the door to her shop opening and Ned walking in. It didn’t alter anything, not really…
So had what he accused her of been true? Had she taken advantage of him, however unwittingly, to make the new life for herself that she desperately needed? But whichever way she thought about it, she was certain that wasn’t the way it had happened. Having a partner simply hadn’t figured as an immediate part of her future and the intensity of feeling that swept over her whenever she was with Ned had taken her completely by surprise. She had blossomed when she met him, become fully awake to all the possibility that lay within her. But, more than that, she had been accepted for who she was and loved – she had thought – for all her silly notions, and ridiculous clothes that other people thought made her weird. When Ned had proposed, her initial reaction had been panic, until she’d realised that it wasn’t panic at all, but excitement, a feeling that up until that time she’d had little experience of. Flora could fill with joy at the drop of a hat, but real excitement was what had carried her forward right up until this day.
She unclasped her hands and laid a palm on the grass beside her, feeling the energy of the young green shoots between her fingers, their size belying a strength that could split concrete. A solitary bee buzzed an early bunch of clover and she looked up the slope behind her towards the hive. If ever there was a testament to the power of working together then that was it. And how sweet the reward…
She was certain that the conclusions she had come to over her own business could be made to work here; the farm needed to cut its losses, a radical change instead of an energy-draining struggle. Hope Corner Farm needed to become small, to sell off its land and keep only what it needed, using the money raised to clear its debt and become its own powerful force for the future. They had everything they needed here, they always had, but it broke her heart to think that this probably now no longer included her.
She would give anything to be able to stay and work alongside Ned day by day, sharing their lives, their good days, their bad days, weathering it all inside the shelter of their love. But sometimes, however much you wanted them to, things just didn’t turn out. She stared out across the fields, at the house, at the windows, as if with X-ray eyes she could see the very place that Ned would have taken himself to lick his wounds.
Flora knew he was hurting. The look on his face as she left would stay with her for a very long time. And she knew he loved her, it wasn’t that. But somehow they had moved past caring and their relationship had become a test of faith, of trust in each other, and in that regard they had both failed. The very foundation of their love had been shown to have been built on shifting sands, not solid ground as it ought to have been. And, as a result, everything they had piled on top of it had slipped at the first sign of pressure.
She sat for a few more moments, letting the rays of the low sun warm her face, and then she slowly got to her feet and began the walk back to the farm.
It was even warmer in the greenhouse and Flora ran a light finger across the surface of the soil in one of the seed trays she and Hannah had planted. Then she picked up a watering can that sat underneath one of the benches and, half filling it from the outside tap just across the yard, returned to tend to her young charges. It was the least she could do.
As the soil darkened from the water, she peered closer, wondering at first whether it was a trick of the light, but no, there were definite green shoots. Only tiny, but pushing their way up towards the light nonetheless. She dropped the watering can, righting it quickly before all the water was lost, but her vision was blurred by the sudden tears that burst from her, leaving her gasping. It really was too cruel. But Flora couldn’t stop herself now, and the tears continued to flow as she stood, chest heaving, weeping at the sight of hundreds of tiny seedlings that she would never see grow.
It was quiet in the house when she finally got back. Quiet and too still, as if something indefinable had left. It made moving through the house awkward as if she no longer had any right to be there. In a way she was grateful; better to simply slip quietly away now and avoid any unpleasantness. At least this way she would spare Ned any more upset. Resolutely avoiding Brodie’s eye as she passed, she walked through into the hallway on her way upstairs to pack a bag. Enough for just a couple of nights, until she was settled with her sister and could arrange for the rest of her things to be sent on.
And she almost made it. She had one hand on the newel post, but then—
‘Flora?’
She turned back, only now noticing that the dining room door was open. Fraser sat in his chair, a book in his lap.
Straightening herself up, she dragged a smile onto her face.
‘Hi, Fraser. Is everything okay, do you need something?’
There was no sign of Hannah.
‘You’ve been out,’ he said. ‘It looks like a beautiful day.’
She nodded. ‘It is. Quite warm.’
He tutted and at once she could see the frustration on his face.
‘And if I have to stay sitting in this chair any longer, I shall go stark staring raving mad.’ He picked up the book and then tossed it dismissively onto the low table by his side. ‘I haven’t read a book in years. Not something I’m especially proud of, but then when have I ever had time to read a book? I’m always outside, and if I don’t get out, right now, I’m very afraid I shall be sitting in this chair forever.’
Flora looked around, fully expecting to see Hannah appear.
‘She’s gone for a lie-down. Upstairs,’ said Fraser. ‘So I was wondering… whether I could ask you to accompany me on what might turn out to be the world’s shortest walk. Even if I can just lean up against the side of the house, panting, it will be something.’
‘But I’m not sure…’
‘I’m supposed to be walking every day. Doctors’ orders. Five minutes today, or longer if I can manage it.’
Flora didn’t know what to do. Surely this was Hannah’s territory? And what if Fraser overdid things or, worse, got into difficulty while they were out? And of course that was without the fact that she had just been bawling her eyes out and was planning on leaving.
Fraser was still looking up at her. ‘Please, Flora. The thought of the whole afternoon and evening ahead of me is almost unbearable.’
It was hard to refuse him. ‘But do you feel all right?’
There was a long pause, which made Flora realise the question wasn’t one which required an answer. But, bless him, Fraser drew himself up, looked her in the eye and inhaled a breath.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I feel like shit. But as I’m going to feel like that pretty much anywhere, I’m happy for it to be outside.’
