Page 35 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
‘But I have to be practical,’ reasoned Grace. ‘And the room on the end is fine. It still has an en-suite and with a few adjustments I could make it more like what I’ve been used to.’
‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ said Amos, firmly. ‘I think that Flora would like the alterations to the milking sheds underway as soon as possible. It’s still early in the season and the earlier they capitalise on the extra space the better, but I’m sure I can fit what needs doing here around all that. We should aim to have things ready to go as soon as possible. That way when you hear that the house is safe we can swing into action.’
Grace gave a wry smile. ‘I like your optimism,’ she said. ‘Thank you for not sayingifyou hear…’
‘It’s going to be fine,’ replied Amos. ‘I can feel it.’
They were walking back down the landing to head downstairs when Grace suddenly stopped. She turned to face him.
‘Amos, why are you doing all this?’ she asked. Her eyes were on his, and he had a horrible feeling she could see inside his very soul.
‘What do you mean?’ he replied, hoping to sidestep her question.
‘Why are you helping me?’
He shrugged. ‘Because you need help,’ he said simply, beginning to move off again.
She caught his arm. ‘No, I’m serious. Why would you even do this? I’m a virtual stranger but I feel you’d be happy moving heaven and earth if I asked you to. I don’t get it.’
‘But this all fits,’ he replied. ‘You’re friends with everyone at the farm next door and you each have need of the other. I’m helping them, why on earth wouldn’t I help you too?’
Grace looked at him quizzically. ‘That’s rather what I meant,’ she said. ‘Forgive me, Amos, and I don’t mean this the way it’s possibly going to sound. But aware as I am that I don’t actually know any homeless people, you don’t exactly fit the stereotype.’
‘And what would that be?’ He raised his eyebrows.
She sighed. ‘You know what I mean, stop evading the question. You’re articulate, obviously educated, wise… and very astute.’
‘People from all walks of life lose their homes, Grace. That doesn’t mean anything.’
‘Yes, and I’m well aware that makes me sound like a horribly judgemental snob, but there’s something about you… something I can’t quite put my finger on. I find it curious, that’s all.’
Amos simply smiled, not wishing to invite further questions.
‘And you have a house, I know that. But yet you choose to travel around from one place to the next, sleeping outdoors and working for your board and lodging. It’s not what most people choose to do.’
‘Perhaps not. But there’s a freedom that comes with that way of life too, Grace. I’m not tethered by belongings or responsibility. I’ve met some amazing people and had the opportunity to do things I would never have done otherwise.’
Grace paused, one hand on the bannister. ‘So, going back to my original question then,’ she said. ‘Whyare you doing this? I can understand the appeal of what you’ve just described, up to a point, but I still don’t quite understand why you would choose to do it in the first place. Don’t get me wrong, I’m incredibly grateful that you are, but given that I’m fighting to keep my home, I’m wondering why you were so keen to give up yours.’ She fixed him with a look that Amos could not evade. ‘Were you looking for freedom? Or an escape…? Or perhaps, in your case, they’re both the same thing.’
13
Grace was still thinking about their conversation two days later, even when she should have had her mind very firmly on other things. Amos had been very polite – she couldn’t imagine him being anything else – but he had obviously been affected by her words and now she only wished that she could take them back. He had shown her nothing but kindness and consideration and she had no right to go prying in things that were none of her business and making him feel uncomfortable by doing so. Worse, she’d had no opportunity since to apologise, having spent yesterday in the shop and then this morning visiting her solicitor. Amos had been busy too, so it wasn’t unusual that she hadn’t seen him, but the thoughts still weighed heavily on her mind.
The visit to her solicitor had thrown up no surprises. He had been at school with Grace, later on a guest at her and Paul’s wedding, and had looked after her affairs for more years than she cared to remember. There was, however, something reassuring about talking to a man with whom she had also discussed maths homework many years ago. He had been married, divorced, remarried and a solicitor for over twenty-five years; there wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen or heard before and he listened to what she had to say as a friend might. He took her instructions and promised to contact her once he had established a dialogue with Paul’s solicitor. She had left feeling relieved that the meeting was over and, to some degree, her marriage.
Driving home, she was surprised to realise that her mind was not on the events of the last couple of hours but on the fact that she hadn’t seen Amos for almost two days now. Distracted, she scarcely noticed the flash of silver through the trees as she turned off the road onto the sweep of her long drive. Emerging from the shadowed canopy onto the final stretch in front of the house, she almost collided with a sleek Mercedes driving at speed towards her. She slammed on her brakes.
The other driver was out of the car much quicker than she was.
‘Grace!’
She raised her head from her hands and turned towards the sound of the voice just beyond the driver’s side window. She groaned.
The door was pulled open and a concerned face loomed into view.
‘Grace… Are you okay? Sorry, I…’
‘Dominic,’ she said slowly. ‘Why is it that you constantly feel the need to drive everywhere at ninety miles an hour? No one isthatbusy, ever.’
