Page 15 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘Why are you doing all this for me, both of you – and please don’t think I’m not grateful. You know that’s not the case, but I have only broken my arm, and I will manage. It’s nearly Christmas, and you both must have a million and one other things to be doing or places to be?’
Amos looked at Sam, who looked back at him. ‘Because it’s Christmas, Freya, season of goodwill to all men,’ he said.
‘And all women,’ added Sam.
Freya sighed, she could see she wasn’t going to get anything out of either of them.
‘I also need a ton of shopping, a few Christmas presents and to pack up the contents of the house. That is of course once I’ve sorted it all out.’
‘Okay…’ said Sam slowly, ‘so what shall we do tomorrow?’
‘Oh ha bloody ha,’ retorted Freya, and then clapped a hand to her face. ‘Oh God, I forgot to order more boxes. I meant to do it at the weekend.’
‘Well, I don’t think we’re going to be twiddling our thumbs, are we?’ Amos grinned. ‘Those of us that can anyway. Can I suggest that first, I make another pot of tea, and then, Freya, you can get on the internet and order more boxes. Once we’ve done that, perhaps we can have a lesson in wiring up the stuff for the wreaths and see whether we’re any good at it. The rest we’ll take as it comes.
* * *
It didn’t help that Freya got a fit of the giggles and then could hardly speak, let alone demonstrate the art of bow making, but they established very quickly that Sam had two left hands. Amos, on the other hand, was a very neat worker, and after a few more practice runs, Freya was happy that he could carry on by himself.
‘I think you must be my fairy Godmother.’ She laughed, taking up a bow and trying to fix it in Amos’ hair. She couldn’t of course with only one hand, and so it slipped to one side where eventually it tangled in his curls coquettishly above one ear. Amos said nothing but simply carried on working.
‘So, having established that I’m spectacularly shite at this, does that mean I’ve drawn the short straw and get to sort out the crap in the attic?’ asked Sam.
‘It does I’m afraid. The boxes won’t be delivered until tomorrow, but there’s a huge amount of stuff I can probably throw away from up there. Might as well make a start now. You’ll need your coat, though, it’s freezing up there.’
‘Oh deep joy.’
Amos watched them go with a smile on his face. There were occasions when two was definitely preferable to three.
* * *
Freya was right, it was freezing up in the attic, but the room was amazing – full of crap, but still amazing. It ran the whole length of the house and was lit by five huge windows all set into the eaves, three at the front and two at the back. As an attic, it served its function very well, but Sam could see that the scope for it to become other things was huge. Their own house was pretty impressive, but it had none of the charm and comfort of Appleyard, and after Stephen had finished ripping out most of the ground floor to make a showcase open plan area, there were also very few private spaces. This would make a brilliant workroom; the light was fantastic. He watched Freya walking around disconsolately and thrust his feelings down as far as they would go.
‘It’s a bit daunting, isn’t it,’ she said. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Well, I’m yours to command, so pick a corner, and we’ll work our way along. Do you want to sit down?’
‘I’ll be fine for a bit, I think. I might be warmer anyway, moving around.’ They hadn’t been able to get Freya’s coat on, so instead she had a throw from the lounge tied around her. ‘If we make a bit of space over on this wall first, we can stack the things that can go. Do we need a separate pile for charity shop donations do you think, as opposed to things that are just plain rubbish?’
Sam groaned. ‘I knew you were going to say that; typical woman hoarder.’
‘I am not!’ retorted Freya. She made her way over to a tall chest of drawers that was standing to the far left. ‘See, for example everything in here is just old clothes – jumpers and stuff – but there’s nothing wrong with any of it.’
‘So why don’t you wear them then?’
‘Well, most of it doesn’t fit any more, and they’re ancient and really old-fashioned now.’
Sam said nothing. The silence stretched out while Freya stared at him until a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
‘…Oh right, okay, I get it. It’s rubbish, let’s just chuck it.’
‘Ruthless, that’s what we’ve got to be, ruthless. Repeat after me?’
After an hour and a half, they had systematically cleared a whole side, emptying cupboards and boxes, until only the furniture itself remained, or things that Freya really wanted to keep and which could now be wrapped up and packed properly. Sam kept checking on her from time to time, but she seemed to be coping well with the removal of things which must hold a lot of memories for her. He pulled another box towards him into a clear space and tugged open the flaps. At first, he couldn’t make out what was inside; it seemed to be just a bundle of cloths until he pulled out a tunic covered in upholstery tassels and trimming, made from the brocade of an old curtain. He knew it was an old curtain because up until he’d been about ten, it had hung in his dining room.
He held it up to get a better look. ‘Jesus,’ he said, laughing, ‘I can’t believe you still have these.’
Freya, who was sitting on a trunk leafing through an old book, turned to have a look. ‘Is that what I think it is?’ She grinned.
