Page 8 of The House at Hope Corner
There was another smile. ‘I still marvel at it,’ said Hannah. ‘One of nature’s little miracles.’
‘I know I don’t like them, but even I can see that if you do, having them fresh like this must be the nicest thing,’ said Flora, hesitating for a moment. ‘I was wondering whether it would help you if I took over feeding them? I’m not sure how difficult it is, but if you showed me where everything was, and how to do it… It would be one less thing for you to think about?’
Hannah nodded. ‘I was actually thinking that too,’ she replied. ‘I can show you now if you like, but would you like to go and put the flowers in some water first? No point picking them if they’re going to be half dead by the time we get back. I’ll wait here.’
Dismissed, Flora hurried back inside and hastily filled the scullery sink, leaving the flowers to soak before retracing her steps back outside. Hannah led the way, walking around the side of the house and through a gate into a yard that stood at its front. From there the yard opened out onto a service road which connected with the lane and the outside world to her left, and the rest of the farm to the right. It was here that Flora could see a long straggle of traditional buildings, including the milking parlour, and she followed Hannah to the first of them.
It was a dark, almost black, timber-framed shed which stood beside a small path that led into another area of garden divided from the first by a long low hedge. The grass was rougher here, and right in the centre was the chicken coop, three tawny hens pecking in the exposed soil.
‘Lucy, Mabel and Polly if I’m not much mistaken,’ said Hannah.
Flora gave her a sideways glance. ‘Blimey, how do you tell them apart?’ she asked. ‘They all look the same to me.’
‘That they do,’ Hannah replied, tapping the side of her nose and smiling. ‘But there are subtle differences once you get to know them and what you don’t yet know is that Lucy, Mabel and Polly are the greediest three of the lot. So you can bet that when they’ve just been fed, those are the ladies still eating twenty minutes later.’
Hannah unclipped the catch on the side of the coop and ducked inside, motioning for Flora to follow her. ‘You can leave the door open now if you like, so they can stretch their legs.’ She pointed to a low trough on the ground. ‘A good layer of pellets in there is all you need first thing, and then each of the drinking containers need swilling out and fresh water added. There’s a tap over there.’ She pointed to a pipe which poked from the ground by the hedgerow. ‘Then that’s it until later in the afternoon, when I usually put out the grain. A few handfuls scattered out in the grass and they’ll all come running.’
Flora nodded. ‘That all seems pretty straightforward.’
‘The pellets and grain are in the shed. It’s never locked. Then just collect the eggs from the nest box and you’re done.’
Another nod as Hannah checked her watch, again. It was something of a habit Flora had noticed and usually preceded another task.
‘Okay, I’ve got that,’ she said with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘And what about at night? Do you need to do anything then?’
Hannah gave her an amused look. ‘Just one thing,’ she replied, as she strode back out through the coop door. ‘Make sure the hens have all gone to bed and that you close this at dusk, otherwise come morning you’ll have a pile of dead chickens and a very fat fox…’
‘Oh…’ Flora could have kicked herself. Hannah had very kindly managed to keep the scathing tone from her voice, but Flora was sure it had been a struggle. Everybody knew about chickens and foxes, didn’t they? She followed Hannah back across the garden, trying to think of some way to redeem herself.
‘I’m sure it won’t take me long to get the hang of it,’ she said. ‘And then, before you know it, I’ll be helping to milk the cows.’
Hannah gave her a sideways look. ‘I don’t think so, dear.’ She took in a long breath. ‘Now, we’ll have some tea first, I think,’ she said, as she walked, but then fell silent herself. Whatever was coming next was obviously going to remain a mystery for now.
Quarter of an hour later, with mugs of tea in front of them, and a digestive biscuit each, Hannah cleared her throat.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ she began.
Flora braced herself.
‘And I want to apologise also,’ she added. ‘What must you have thought of us yesterday? I didn’t stop talking at you the whole day…’ She paused, breaking her biscuit in half. ‘I was a little nervous…’
‘You and me both,’ said Flora, dunking her biscuit in her tea and only just managing to get it to her mouth in one piece. But then she grinned. ‘I was probably hugely insensitive too, so I’m sorry if I was a pain. I didn’t think what it must feel like to have me come barging in as if I owned the place, scattering stuff left, right and centre. I’m not a very tidy person, I’m afraid…’
‘But I had no right to go around clearing up after you either. You must have felt very unwelcome. And as for putting all your things away, I really didn’t think… I’ve always done it, you see.’
Flora flinched, inwardly praying that Hannah hadn’t been in their bedroom this morning and seen all her previously carefully folded clothes now strewn around the room. She made a non-committal noise in her throat.
‘You have some lovely things though…’ added Hannah.
Surprised, Flora looked up.
‘I’ve never had the confidence to wear things like that, all those colours clashing together. Even when I was your age and had the chance to wear things that were a little more… modern, I didn’t really. Not much cause for it on the farm, I suppose.’ She ran her eye over what Flora was wearing. ‘It’s not at all conventional, is it? But somehow it suits you.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora blushed at Hannah’s unexpected words. ‘They’re probably completely impractical for life on a farm, but I’ve worn things like this for so long now, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable wearing anything different.’
It was the first time Flora had even considered what Hannah wore. For the most part they were practical clothes, designed to be warm and comfortable, but now that she thought about it, they hid Hannah’s shape and personality like a blanket. She had no idea how old Hannah was, but the dark drab colours and unflattering cut of the things in her wardrobe probably added ten years to her age. Maybe at some point in the future there might be an occasion when Flora could suggest some changes – if Hannah wanted to, that was.
The two women smiled at one another, their tentative start at friendship settling between them. Flora drank a mouthful of tea and this time she was the one who looked at her watch.
