Page 22 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
She returned to the garden to collect the coffee cups and assess her plans for the rest of the day. Dominic’s visit had been unexpected, although she had known she would hear from him one way or another, but now it was just another thing that she could cross off her list. Your move, Paul, she thought.
It wasn’t one of her days for manning the village shop and so a little gentle gardening felt like a good way of passing the time. It would help her to regain her equilibrium after the trials of the last couple of days. Solutions to the problems that Grace was troubled by often found their way to her when she pottered in the fresh air.
The telephone rang just as she was rinsing the cups. She dried her hands, glancing at the time as she did so. Perhaps it was that which made her anxious, or some sixth sense, but by the time she picked up the receiver she was already expecting bad news.
It wasn’t a long conversation, but it left Grace trembling. She thought she would have more time than this. She recognised the name of the caller from the information that Amos had given her yesterday and although Evan Porter sounded apologetic, nothing could alter the fact that he had been instructed to put the house on the market and would need to visit in order to take more detailed information. They made an arrangement for later that day.
There was still a little coffee left in the cafetière but it had already gone cold. Grace would have liked one more cup, but she didn’t have the energy to make another pot. Instead, she made a quick cup of tea and, collecting her notepad and pen from a drawer, took them back out to the same spot where she and Dominic had sat. The gardening would have to wait, she had plans to make.
8
Amos was accustomed to rising early and it was his favourite time of the day, particularly in the summer. While the temperature was still cool, the air had a languid feel to it, which would disappear once the heat began to build and it began to vibrate with an almost restless energy. But it was the expectation Amos enjoyed the most, the feeling of promise that each new day brought. He rolled over and sat up. A glass of water was what he needed first, then a walk would be just the thing to make the most of the early hour. The cottage didn’t have much in the way of plumbing; the single tap in the corner of the kitchen area was the sole source of water and cold water at that. There were no washing facilities at all and although he had been told he was very welcome to visit the main house whenever he needed, as far as he was concerned water was wet wherever the location of the tap.
After drinking his fill, he quickly stripped and washed, relishing the feel of the cold water against his overheated skin. Judging by the clearness of the sky outside the day would warm up rapidly and he pulled his clothes onto his still-damp body. Taking an apple from the bowl on the table he let himself out and in moments was out of the farm gate and into the lane beyond. To the right lay the village, but in the other direction lay undiscovered territory. Naturally, Amos turned left.
At some point today Grace would give him the answer to the question he had posed the night before, and he prayed the answer would be yes. Amos rarely accepted money for the work he did, usually he laboured in exchange for board and lodging or lessons in a new skill. Over the years he had amassed a wide knowledge in this way, but never about beekeeping. It was a subject that intrigued him for many reasons and, he realised, if the answer from Grace was no, he would be very disappointed. He trailed his fingers along the hedgerows as he walked, letting the peace and calm of the early morning settle his thoughts.
The sun was beginning to climb when Amos judged it was time to return to the farm. His walk had done the trick and set him up ready for a full day’s work.
‘Amos!’ The urgency in Flora’s call surprised him as he walked across the yard.
‘Is everything all right?’ He picked up his pace, fearing something had happened.
But then she laughed, wild black curls shaking in the sunlight. ‘Oh God, I thought you’d gone.’
‘I went for a walk,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Although I suppose I should be flattered.’
She turned her head up to face the sky. ‘You should definitely be flattered. How is it that you’ve been here only a matter of days and yet it feels like forever? I’ve just been over to the cottage and, honestly, my heart was in my mouth.’
Amos bowed slightly. ‘Then I apologise for alarming you.’
Flora stopped, her eyes widening. ‘No, that was a horrible thing to say,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry. Assuming you’d just take off like that without even saying goodbye was incredibly rude.’ Her hand went to her mouth. ‘I don’t even know what made me say it.’
Amos’s smile was easy. ‘You meant no offence,’ he said. ‘And my absence startled you.’
‘No,’ insisted Flora. ‘Don’t make it easy for me. Treating you like that is inexcusable. Please tell me that other people don’t do that, just because…’
She didn’t finish her sentence.
‘It happens sometimes,’ replied Amos, shrugging. More often than he cared to remember. ‘Except that when it’s meant, folks never apologise.’ His smile widened. ‘I shall take from your comment the compliment it so obviously bestowed and also make a promise that I will never up sticks and leave without saying goodbye. We’ll both know when it’s time for me to go.’
Flora rushed forward and pulled Amos into an impulsive hug, before pulling away, laughing.
‘Now I’m just making it worse,’ she said. ‘But earlier this year, you know, we nearly lost Fraser and, well… No good telling people how you feel after they’ve gone, is there? These days I wear my heart well and truly on my sleeve.’
‘And it suits you,’ replied Amos, smiling. ‘Anyway, what did you want me for?’
She broke into a grin. ‘Breakfast,’ she said. ‘Very important.’
‘It is indeed. And I should have hated to miss it.’
‘I also wanted to ask your opinion about something. Only, it’s a bit hush-hush at the moment.’ There was a quizzical expression on her face.
‘I can do discretion,’ he replied, leaning in towards her. ‘Who is it I’m not supposed to tell?’
‘Fraser,’ she shot back. ‘And, believe me, that man has ears like a bat, so…’
‘Fingers on lips,’ said Amos. ‘Understood.’
