Page 3 of The Beekeeper's Cottage
There was a slight sniff. ‘Yes, well, first things first,’ said Hannah. ‘Now, are you sure a glass of water is all you want to drink, Mr… er…?’
‘Fry,’ Amos supplied, smiling. ‘And thank you, that would be perfect.’ He couldn’t blame her for her wariness. He’d feel exactly the same way under the circumstances.
Half an hour later they were back outside again and Amos’s head was buzzing with thoughts. The conversation had become a little less trying as time passed and they’d discussed the many jobs there were to be done on the farm, but Amos couldn’t help but feel his instincts had brought him here for a different reason. Past experience had proved that his hunches weren’t usually wrong, but only time would tell. The answer would come to him in due course, it always did, he thought as he followed Flora towards a low line of buildings a little further down the courtyard.
‘So, this is where we were going to put the students,’ said Flora, her hand on the solid oak door to one of the cottages. ‘As you’ll see, it’s very much work in progress. Which is short for, we haven’t the time or the money to finish it right now. But we had envisaged the students would take their meals with us, in the main house, so it’s just a place to sleep really. And have a little privacy.’ She lifted the catch and pushed open the door. ‘It’s rather basic though, I’m sorry.’
Amos smiled at her concern. The fact that it hadn’t even occurred to her this was far better than he was used to made him like her even more. He didn’t tell her that the state of the cottage mattered little to him, and that his creature comforts were not to be foundinsidea house at all, because a kindness was a kindness and Amos was very fond of the phraseyou reap what you sow. It had stood him in good stead over the years.
‘It's no problem. I'll be working all day so I just need a place to come inside if it's wet.’ He looked around the room that he guessed, in time, would become the kitchen but for now contained no more than an old fridge and a small table pushed up against one wall with a kettle, a toaster, a tray of cutlery and a collection of mugs and glasses on top. Another table stood in the middle of the room along with two mismatched chairs. ‘Would it help if I fixed this place up for you?’ he asked.
‘Can you even do that?’ asked Flora, astonished.
Amos smiled, deducing that now might be a good time to explain a little more about himself.
‘You asked me earlier if I was homeless,’ he said. ‘And, strictly speaking, that’s not true. I do have a home, I just choose to let someone else live there and instead I travel… I meet amazing people, who have amazing stories, and mostly I find that they need help of one sort or another, and so I fix things… buildings mostly—’ He broke off. He’d almost said ‘and people too’, but stopped himself just in time. ‘Or I do odd jobs, whatever is required. But, like I said before, I can turn my hand to most things. I’d be happy to have a chat about anything you’d like doing.’
Flora took her time looking around her as she weighed up Amos’s offer.
‘It sounds as if you’re prepared to stick around for a while then?’ she said eventually, dropping her gaze to the floor before lifting it again and meeting Amos’s look square on. ‘Only, we can’t afford to pay anyone,’ she added. ‘We’d like to, and work like thisshouldbe paid for, but the simple fact of the matter is that board and lodging is about it, I’m afraid.’
‘That’s all I ever ask for,’ replied Amos. ‘And I can stay for as long as you need me.’
‘What, like Mary Poppins?’ quipped Flora.
Amos smiled and said nothing.
She was watching him again and, as a gentle smile slowly transformed her face, she shook her head. ‘Do you believe in fate, Amos?’ she asked. ‘Only it was just this morning that our students let us down and I was wondering how on earth we were going to manage. And then you turn up out of the blue! Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’
Amos ran a finger along the grain of the wooden table. ‘Don’t ever stop wondering, Flora. Life would be very dull if we didn’t.’
He straightened up, drawing in a breath, and shrugging his rucksack from his shoulders, placed it onto a chair. ‘Right, I’ll pop my stuff here for the minute and then I think you mentioned something about some watering that needed doing.’
Flora smiled. ‘Come with me,’ she said, beckoning with her finger.
Amos followed her out of the cottage and back towards the main house, turning off onto a path that led through to the gardens. The evening air was soft and still balmy from the heat of the day, insects darting here and there as Amos and Flora walked through an area of longer grass towards a patio surrounded by flower beds and bright with huge tubs of flowers. Beyond the patio was a line of bigger bushes and trees, and it was towards a ranch fence among them that Flora was headed. Amos reached out a hand to push aside a low-hanging willow branch which bordered the edge of the garden, and felt his heartbeat began to quicken. All of a sudden it became very obvious what Flora had brought him down here to see.
In front of him, and stretching out both to the left and the right, was a field filled with more colour than Amos thought he had ever seen in his life before. Flowers, massed in rows – pinks, purples, reds, yellows, vivid oranges, soft blues and heathery purples, all laid out in riotous glory before him. He turned to Flora open-mouthed.
‘You’d better get used to eating honey, our local bees have had somewhat of a party,’ she said, grinning.
He struggled to find his words as a swell of emotion washed over him. He had never expected to find such beauty so close at hand, and he was utterly unable to speak.
‘I know,’ said Flora. ‘It fair takes your breath away, doesn’t it?’
Amos could only nod.
‘Hope Blooms,’ she added, in case any further information was necessary.
It took a few moments for Amos to gather his wits, his eyes sweeping from side to side. ‘And you planted all these?’ he asked. ‘By hand?’ He scratched his chin. ‘I’m no expert on flowers but, from what I do know, these grow mostly from seed, would that be right?’
It was Flora’s turn to nod. ‘Grown from seed, pricked out, and planted out, every single last one of them. Weeks and weeks of back-breaking work… We must be mad…’
Amos shook his head. ‘And that’s your reward,’ he said, turning to look at her. ‘No wonder you’d do it all again in a heartbeat.’
He saw a slow smile spread across her face as she acknowledged the truth in his words. And he could see just how she was feeling; her pride in what they had achieved, her awe and profound love of the flowers that had grown as if from her own fingertips.
‘And now of course, they need to be watered, and cared for, plant by plant…’ he added.
