Page 4 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘Hmm, maybe,’ replied Freya, sounding doubtful. ‘Anyway, there might not be a one day, Merry. I’ve finally had to put the place on the market. This will probably be my last year.’
Her friend’s face fell. ‘Oh Freya, no, you can’t do that. Is there really no other way? I thought when we last spoke that things were picking up a bit.’
‘Not enough it would seem. Believe me, if there was another way, I’d have taken it. Gareth did all the sums, and we’re just going to get deeper into debt. I only just managed to get the harvest in this year, but I want to be making cider and juices myself, Merry, not selling my apples to other people so that they can do it. The trouble is I can’t afford to pay for help or new machinery, both of which I need.
‘There’s just me flogging myself to death, and however hard I pretend, it’s not enough. Gareth is never going to be a farmer, Merry, and it’s wrong to make him try. He’s been good to me, you know…since Dad died. I have to respect that.’ She blew out her cheeks. ‘So…this is it, one last push; out with a bang with any luck, and then I’ll be heading for the suburbs and a two-up, two-down.’
Merry pulled Freya into another hug. ‘You know we’ll help if we can, don’t you? I’m not sure what we can do, but we’ll think of something.’
‘That’s very kind of you, but really, it’s okay. I’ll just have to get used to it. Nothing stays the same forever, Merry.’
There was real sadness in her friend’s eyes as Merry pulled away. ‘I must go and find Tom. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?’
‘Okay.’
* * *
Amos watched Freya for a moment, unsure what to say. He’d had no idea that things were quite so bad. ‘Is Merry a good friend?’
Freya’s grin was wide. ‘The best; we grew up together. Our mums had beds next to each other in the maternity ward, and because they were always together, so were we. We don’t see each other as often as we’d like to now that she’s married and moved away, but we’ve always kept in touch. When Mum left, I practically lived at their house.’
‘Her name means one who has psychic powers, did you know that?’ he replied, swallowing hard. The more he got to know Freya, the more he realised what a bum deal life had dealt her. She had every reason to be bitter but was very far from it. He had a feeling that Freya’s holly would always have berries on it.
‘What, Merry, psychic?’ She laughed. ‘She didn’t even realise she was pregnant for about five months! It’s a nice idea, though.’ She looked down at her roll, now cold and congealing in her hand. ‘I don’t suppose…?’
Amos shook his head vehemently. ‘No thanks. But I’ll go and find a bin for you if you like. It looks like you have folk waiting to talk to you.’ He motioned with his head and, collecting her half-eaten breakfast, wandered off. He had spied Stephen Henderson in the distance and wondered if he might be lucky enough to find a bin in his vicinity.
Things were really picking up now; the place was heaving with people amid good-natured calling and laughing, together with some more serious discussions, and if the conversations Amos had overheard were anything to go by, it looked like bidding was going to be lively. By the time he returned to Freya he could hardly see her amid the bustle that was crowding around. All eyes seemed to be on a tall man in a green coat, who carried some kind of a long stick. As Amos watched, Freya motioned him over.
‘That’s the auctioneer,’ she said, checking her phone again. ‘I think we’re just about to start.’
Almost as soon as she had voiced the words, a piercing whistle rang out across the yard, and the sound fell away, leaving near silence in its wake. The sale had begun.
* * *
It was nearly seven by the time Freya walked in, the kitchen still in darkness. She dumped her bags on the table and followed the sound of the television to the living room. This too was in darkness save for the flickering glare cast by the football match that Gareth was watching. She stood there for a couple of minutes in the gloom, wondering if he’d even realised she was standing there, before flicking on the light, making Gareth jump. He whirled around to face her.
‘Christ, that’s bright.’
‘Sorry. Just checking you were still alive as the house is in total darkness.’
Gareth peered back at the screen.
‘God, is it that late? I hadn’t realised. I only popped in here to catch the score. What a game, though.’
‘Popped in with your tea and a beer.’
‘Ah, well…yes. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be back you see.’
Freya picked up his mobile phone from the coffee table beside him and pressed a button to bring the screen to life. She looked at it for a moment and then handed it silently to him, her text messages all in a row. Then she left the room.
Amos was coming in through the back door as she filled the kettle. She greeted him with a warm smile.
‘What do you fancy for tea, Amos? Gareth’s already eaten.’
‘Um, I’m probably okay, don’t worry,’ he replied, flicking a glance out through the open door. ‘I’ve put the gear back in the barn, is that okay?’
‘Perfect, thank you. I could make us some beans on toast? I’m not sure I’m up for much more than that, my feet are killing me.’
