Page 6 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘Rant over.’ Freya smiled back. ‘I’m glad we understand one another.’
‘It strikes me that what we need is a plan of action,’ added Amos. ‘It’s not just the wreaths that need to be made, is it? You’ll need more holly and mistletoe for next week’s fair, and that doesn’t include all your normal jobs. Let me finish this, and we’ll make a list.’
‘I tell you what, I’ve got an even better idea. There’s plenty of hot water left, so why don’t you go and grab a shower and warm yourself up a bit while I make us a proper breakfast; then we’ll see where we go from there.’
Amos touched his hand to her sleeve. ‘Thank you.’
* * *
It was noon before they stopped again for a welcome cuppa. They had spent the morning walking the fields and deciding what to cut and when. Freya would need a good deal of greenery for her arrangements, but there were still two sales left, and of course she would need a little left over to decorate the farmhouse too. She never tired of the orchards. Whatever the weather, whatever the time of year, there was always some new wonder to catch her eye; baby rabbits running and chasing across the fields, frothy clouds of elderflower blossom in the hedgerow, or row after row of apple blossom, its pale beauty against a blue summer sky a sight she would never forget. Even on the darker days she loved it; those still October mornings when the sky hardly seemed to clear the ground, but where, here in the orchard, the sparkle of dew on cobwebs really was like diamonds, and the air was heavy with the scent of apples.
She had never known anywhere else, and the thought that she might soon have to leave was almost unbearable. She’d taken it all for granted. She hadn’t realised until her dad died how much he had protected her from, how much of a struggle it must have been for him to keep things going and how much he had sacrificed over the years. She hadn’t realised either quite how much debt they were in, and she felt enormously guilty that she’d never known. Her dad had carried that burden solely on his shoulders, and although she knew he wouldn’t have had it any other way, she couldn’t help wondering whether it had contributed to his early death; he had, after all, been only sixty-three.
Her mobile had flashed during the morning with a missed call from a number that she had been expecting. She couldn’t go on deliberately avoiding these calls and finally decided to voice the nagging thoughts that had been plaguing her.
‘Do you think I’m mad, Amos?’
‘Possibly,’ he replied ambiguously. ‘But there’s several definitions of mad in my book, not all of them bad I might add, so which variant do you think you might be?’
‘Well, all this; doing all these orders, going to sales – for what? The estate agent rang this morning, and I know it’s because he’s got someone he wants to show around. Sure, I’ll make a bit of money from the sales, but it’s never going to be enough to save this place, so why am I doing it, why am I putting myself through this?’
Amos took in a long slow breath, considering the question, and then gently let it out again. ‘That’s not something I can answer, Freya. Only you know why.’
Freya screwed up her face. ‘Well, that’s no bloody good,’ she wheedled. ‘Can’t you make something up, to make me feel better? Or even not to make me feel better, but to make me see sense instead?’
‘Possibly. But I don’t know you all that well.’
‘You know me well enough. Anyway, you have that wise man thing about you, like you’ve got everyone sussed. So, tell me why you think I’m doing this.’
‘Are you sure you really want me to tell you?’
‘Yes, for God’s sake,’ she groaned. ‘Put me out of my misery.’
Amos regarded her for a moment, and then he looked around the room she loved so much, with its warm colours and comfortable furnishings.
‘I think it’s because there’s so much of you in this house, Freya, that you’re scared you won’t exist outside it,’ he said slowly. ‘You’ve lived here your whole life, and when your mum left, it was just you and your dad against the world, and this place, well, it became your fortress if you like. Now that he’s gone, it’s the only thing that ties you to him, and now that the house is threatened as well, it’s like you’re threatened too, like you don’t know who you are, or more importantly who you want to be. It’s time to find out, Freya, that’s all. There’s no madness involved. I think if I’d had this life, this house, I’d do everything I could to keep it too. But if it really has to go, then see it as your opportunity to find out what’s important to you; and when you do find out, don’t let go of it. You never know, things might surprise you.’
‘What if I don’t know what I want,’ she whispered, her gaze still locked on his.
‘You will, Freya, you will. Now make the call.’
The agent was prompt, more’s the pity. Stephen Henderson came in first, his arrogant manner slightly subdued by the colourful black eye he was wearing, but that didn’t stop him from gazing around the kitchen with a very annoying grin on his face. Freya shook his hand, desperate to ask about the eye, but promising herself that at least one of them should show some manners.
The agent was the same one who had come to value the property and draw up the details. She’d gone to school with him, which was a little embarrassing, but then that happened a lot around here. He took Freya to one side almost as soon as he entered the room.
‘I know you’ll be expecting to show them around, Freya, but can I make a suggestion? Actually, it wasn’t mine, it was Sam’s, but, on this occasion, I happen to agree. Usually, I’m very happy for the vendor to chat to prospective buyers; it can lend a more relaxed air to proceedings and is often helpful when questions are asked. But since both brothers know the property well, it would seem a bit superfluous, and I wondered whether you might find it difficult, well, awkward, you know. Sam thought this way might be easier for you.’ He gave a nervous smile, half expecting to be shot down in flames.
Freya hadn’t considered this, but it was a kind thought. She looked at Amos for guidance, who gave a small nod. She was blushing and she knew it, sitting down at the table quickly to hide her colour. For some reason, an old and deeply inappropriate memory had just popped into her head, of her and Sam, from a time when they had been very good friends. But why today of all days when she hadn’t thought about him that way in years? It was a good thing that she and Amos were to remain sitting at the table because, right now, Freya really didn’t think she’d have anything coherent to say. The moment soon passed, however, as Stephen’s voice floated up from the passageway. Ignorant moron, of course it looked like an old-fashioned pantry; that’s exactly what it was.
Amos kept up a low babble of conversation the whole time, and she knew it was to prevent her from hearing further snippets of conversation. She was thinking about what he had said, though, and how accurate his assessment of her had been. She shouldn’t really be surprised. The more she got to know Amos, the more fascinating she found him, but she hadn’t realised she had been wearing her heart on her sleeve quite as obviously as she had. Their discussion had focused her mind, and as much as she hadn’t wanted to make the decisions that were facing her, they were long overdue, and all the months she had spent deliberating her various options hadn’t brought her any further forward. For some reason, that had changed today, and she knew that she could no longer hide from what was surely the inevitable. It would take a miracle to save Appleyard, but if she had to go, she had to go, and now she must fight for a future beyond this house.
Something cut across her thoughts, and she suddenly became aware of what Amos was saying.
‘You never mentioned that before.’ Freya laughed. ‘That’s priceless.’
‘Well, I can imagine Stephen Henderson gets himself into all sorts of scrapes from what I’ve been hearing, and I don’t suppose it’s the first time he’s had a black eye. I might have expected him to get belted by some chap who bore him a grudge, but I never thought it would be his brother.’
‘And this happened at the fair? Oh, I wish I’d seen it. Good for Sam. I wonder what they were arguing about, though.’
