Page 29 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
Freya looked up in shock. ‘I never knew that,’ she said, her eyes wide. ‘But you were angry, Stephen, I’d stood you up in front of all those people. I knew weeks before that I didn’t want to marry you, but I let it go too far. I was scared; your dad had done so much, all those beautiful flowers, the marquee, I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone. I just thought I would go through with it and in the end it would all be okay. But on the day…I just couldn’t…I should never have done that either.’
He squeezed her hand. ‘We both made mistakes, but I don’t blame you for what you did. Marrying me would have been a disaster. I’ve never said this to you before, but I am truly sorry for what happened.’
Freya looked down at her hands.
‘Why are you telling me this now, Stephen?’
‘I don’t know…because it’s Christmas…because I’ve fucked up my life and it’s time to do something about it…because my brother has loved you since primary school and you should be together…’ He shrugged. ‘I could go on.’
‘What will you do?’
Stephen gave a rueful smile. ‘Go home and get bladdered one last time and then try to sort my life out. Try to salvage what I can of my home and my business, maybe marry someone like you, try being a grown-up for a change.’ He pushed the gear stick forward. ‘But first I’m going to get you home.’
Appleyard was only a three-mile drive from the village, but the snow was coming down so fast now that Freya wondered if they would make it at all. The wind had blown huge drifts against the hedges and in places there was barely room to pass. Even with the car’s four-wheel drive, they struggled up the lanes, visibility almost zero, but Stephen drove slowly on, his teeth clenched in his jaw. Freya sat forward in her seat and urged them onwards.
Eventually, the gates to the house came into view and Stephen carefully brought the car to a standstill.
‘Are you sure you’ll be all right from here?’ he asked anxiously.
Freya touched her hand gently to his. ‘I will, I’m sure of it.’ She leaned over to kiss his cheek. ‘And thank you.’
Stephen smiled at her touch, for once in his life having done the right thing.
She had only made it halfway up the drive when the back door opened and a familiar figure half ran, half stumbled towards her. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest now as she took the last few steps, until finally she felt Sam’s arms go around her and there, swaying gently in his warmth with the snow whirling around them, cold and exhausted, Freya finally came home.
‘I thought I’d lost you again,’ murmured Sam as they clung to each other in the quiet solitude of the kitchen. They held each other close, the years catching up with them until a peaceful silence settled on the room, and this was how Amos found them, in a silent embrace, standing oblivious under the mistletoe that they had hung from the rafters only hours earlier. He closed the back door firmly and turned the key in the lock before coming to rest a hand on Sam’s shoulder and kiss Freya’s cheek.
‘Merry Mistletoe,’ he whispered.
It was fully dark by the time she awoke, stretching luxuriously under the weight of the blankets. After gallons of tea, hot buttered toast and jam and a rather giggly one-armed bath, she’d had no objection at all to being told what to do, and had fallen into a deep sleep.
It was quiet downstairs as she made her way along the landing, pausing for a moment as she spotted Sam sitting at the bottom of the stairs, an open book on his lap. He turned as he heard her footsteps.
‘I didn’t want to miss you,’ he said, holding out his hand and waiting for her to reach his level. ‘Come with me.’
She followed his lead along the hallway until he stopped at the door to the lounge. ‘Close your eyes,’ he instructed, a smile on his face.
She did as she was asked, stepping gingerly into the room, a childlike leap of excitement filling her. The door closed behind her, and she strained her ears, but there wasn’t a sound that she could hear.
‘Okay you can open them now.’
She peered between her fingers, the room still completely dark, and suddenly she was aware of a familiar fragrance. In the split second that she realised what it was, the room came to life with what looked like a million points of dancing light.
‘Oh,’ was all she could say, her mouth round as she inhaled a sharp breath of surprise.
In the room before her were a myriad Christmases past; holly and mistletoe heaped along the mantelpiece, woven with tartan ribbons and gilded pine cones, bright red woollen stockings at either end – stockings she herself had knitted. Strings of fairy lights hung across the alcoves on each side of the room, and the edges of the bookshelves were covered in twinkly gold stars. Her patchwork Christmas quilt was thrown over the cream sofa, and the jolly felt reindeer and elves she loved so much stood on the coffee table to one side.
Her gaze swept the room each time seeing something new, but each time coming to rest on the huge tree that stood in one corner, a beautiful spruce of the brightest green and now bearing only the simplest of decoration. As Freya moved closer, something caught in her throat as she realised what was hanging there; each and every one of the beautiful baubles she and her dad had collected over the years, each with its own story to tell and each still as perfect as the day they had bought it. She looked at them all in turn, every one bringing a smile of memory until she saw right near the top, the most recent addition: a shimmering rose globe, caught in the light to reveal its perfect feather frozen in time within. It was utterly, utterly beautiful and left her devoid of words.
She felt an arm go around her, warm and comforting and familiar.
‘I thought you might like it,’ murmured Sam in her ear. ‘It seemed such a shame to leave them in their boxes; all those memories locked away. They need to dance again, don’t you think?’
A soft smile lit up Freya’s face. ‘I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you do all this?’
‘This afternoon while Amos was out looking for you. I wanted to stay here in case you came back, but I had to have something to keep me occupied, I was going out of my mind with worry.’
‘I’m so sorry I ran away. I should have let you explain,’ said Freya.
