Page 32 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
An hour and a half later, Freya and Sam finally pulled out of the drive, turning into the lane that led down past Appleyard Farm into the village.
‘I knew we were going to be late,’ remarked Freya mildly.
Sam merely smiled. ‘Merry’s your oldest friend, she’ll understand.’
‘That’s rather what I’m afraid of,’ replied Freya, knowing just the sort of teasing comments her friend was likely to make. She pulled at her skirt a little self-consciously. ‘I’d rather not be, that’s all. This is a big day for them, and we need to show our support.’
Sam took one hand off the steering wheel and laid it on her arm. ‘I’m sorry. Blame it all on me. It was my fault…to begin with…’
Freya blushed again, although revelling in the joy of their relationship, which just a short while ago was something she’d never thought she’d find again.
‘And don’t forget,’ added Sam, ‘Little Robyn is only three months old, so Merry and Tom will still be packing the enormous amount of stuff that she requires into their car, they’re bound to be late.’
‘Hmm, that’s true. I can’t wait to see the baby again, I bet she’s grown heaps.’
Sam pulled neatly into a passing space in the narrow lane to let a tractor past. ‘Totally ruling the roost no doubt. I know what they’re doing makes sense, but even for Merry, this is a bit of a tall order. I hope they haven’t bitten off more than they can chew.’
Freya had been thinking the same thing. She and Sam had a lot of work ahead of them, but they didn’t have a small child to worry about too.
‘I do understand why Merry feels that this is the right time for them to do something different, though. They’ve run the hotel ever since they’ve been together, and whilst that was fine when they were just the two of them, having Robyn changes everything. It’s not the kind of life they can sustain any longer, and well…you and me of all people should know that sometimes you have to take a chance on things.’
Sam nodded at the truth of her words. ‘Point taken. I shall say no more.’
They drove in peaceful silence for a few minutes until the car swung round the final bend, bringing them into Lower Witley.
‘I can’t remember the last time I was here,’ remarked Freya. ‘And I still can’t picture where this new place is they’ve bought. Merry says it’s up past the green, nearer the top of the hill, but I don’t remember there ever being a shop there.’
‘Well, we’re about to find out,’ replied Sam, slowing to a crawl as the village green came into view.
On a day like today, it was easy to see what had attracted Merry and Tom to the village. At its centre stood a circle of warm red brick, or black and white timbered houses, in front of which was a traditional village green, complete with pond. A weeping willow swayed lazily at one end of it while three ducks bobbed about aimlessly, without a care in the world. The road widened, sweeping onwards in a wide circle, revealing another cluster of cottages behind low brick walls, with paved paths and blossoming cherry trees. The pale blue sky provided the perfect backdrop as they drove on.
The village was bigger than it first looked and, as they crossed over the small bridge and followed the road up the hill, Freya looked back to see the church which stood on the other side of the village. It was certainly all very appealing.
The road gave one final bend before Five Penny House came into view.
‘Look, there it is,’ pointed Freya. ‘I can see Tom’s car.’
Sam turned into the wide courtyard to the side of the house, admiring the handsome lines of Merry and Tom’s new home.
Freya was out of the car in a flash. ‘Halloo,’ she shouted. ‘We’re here!’ waving her arms at the two figures she could see in the garden. She ran across the lawn. ‘I remember this place now, isn’t it beautiful?’ she said, and reached up to give Tom a kiss.
Tom beamed at her and Merry, in turn. ‘We think so, don’t we?’ he replied.
Freya stood back to look at Merry. She looked tired, although happiness shone from her face. A baby carrier was strapped to her front, from which two legs dangled, encased in bright red woolly tights. Freya automatically bent to grasp the baby’s toes, grinning as Robyn tried to pull her legs away. ‘Look at her, and look at you,’ she exclaimed, giving her friend a hug and a kiss. ‘You both look gorgeous!’
Merry pushed a lock of dark hair off her face. ‘Well, I don’t feel gorgeous at all, but this little one certainly is. She’s beginning to grow at last too.’ Freya knew how worried Merry had been during the first month or so after Robyn was born, as the baby steadfastly refused to put on weight. ‘She’s pretty much caught up now.’
‘See. I told you everything would be all right,’ replied Freya, tickling Robyn’s toes again. ‘Not that I know anything about babies of course, so you’re probably wise not to listen to me.’ She paused for a minute, watching Merry closely. ‘And who said you weren’t looking gorgeous? Give me their name, and I’ll have them taken care of.’
Merry gave Tom beside her a furtive glance, and leaned in towards Freya. ‘It’s hard to feel gorgeous when your boobs seem like they’re on fire. Jesus, they’re sore, Freya. No one told me that breastfeeding would hurt this much.’
Sam arrived at this point which forestalled any further discussion, something which Freya was secretly relieved about. She winced inwardly at the thought of her friend’s nipples being mashed to a pulp.
Tom shook his jacket, listening for the jangling that would reveal in which pocket he had stashed the keys to the house. He fished them out with a flourish.
‘Come on then, who wants to look around?’ he asked needlessly. ‘Although don’t get too excited; like Merry said, it needs a lot doing to it. The décor is a bit well…you’ll see.’
He led the way up the path to the stout front door and wrestled with the lock for a moment before beckoning them all in.
