Page 60 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
All three looked up suddenly at the intrusion into their thoughts as Tom strode into the kitchen. His face was wide with delight. ‘It’s official apparently, according to the landlord of the Apple Cart. Seeing as how we all saved the village, the curse has been lifted. What do you think of that?’
Merry looked up at her husband, noticing the expression on his face. Her laughter rang out loud around the kitchen. ‘I should think so too.’ She giggled. ‘Although that’s not all,’ she added. ‘We have a few guests who’d like a word with you…’
‘Yeah, what’s with all the vans outside? Where did they come from?’
‘Well, the blue van belongs to the landlord’s brother-in-law, who’s a builder as it happens. The green van belongs to his mate, a plumber, and the white van to his mate’s brother who’s an electrician. Apparently, they’d heard of the issues with getting this place ready, and in honour of you helping to save the village from flooding, they wondered if you might be needing a hand with anything?’ She grinned. ‘So, I’ve plied them with tea and biscuits.’ She winked at Sam. ‘They’re in the dining room; ready when you are.’
Tom snatched the last chunk of sausage from his wife’s plate. ‘Well then, I best not keep them waiting any longer, had I?’ And with that he strode back out.
Merry smiled to herself; there was a man on a mission if ever she saw one. She looked back at Sam, a contented sigh escaping her. ‘And have I managed to fill you up?’ she asked, ‘or do you need even more breakfast?’
Sam patted his stomach. ‘Well, I didn’t think I would manage that, but I surprised myself actually.’ He glanced towards Freya. ‘So thank you, Merry, but we really should be getting out of your hair. Now that the rain has stopped, I think we need to go and see what sort of a crop we’re going to be left with this year.’ He passed a weary hand over his face, tired, but resolute in the face of what he needed to do next. ‘And when we’ve done that, I need to focus on what’s really important at Appleyard and stop being such a prat. No more fanciful stuff, just concentrate on what we’re good at, which is producing beautiful fruit, our way, and no one else’s.’ He leaned across the table and took hold of Freya’s hand. He opened his mouth to carry on, but Freya forestalled him.
‘Actually, I’ve been thinking about that,’ she said, holding Sam’s look and returning the pressure on his hand. ‘I’m not sure it’s fair to carry on as we are, Sam—’ She caught sight of the expression on his face and quickly laid her other hand over his. ‘What I mean is that it was unfair to think that you could move into Appleyard and simply carry on as if your life before never existed. It’s too big a leap, and it’s far too close to home having Stephen on our doorstep doing exactly what we do. There have to be changes if we’re all going to get along. I wanted everything at Appleyard to be as it always had been, but I was wrong, Sam.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s time for things to change, to make Appleyard ours, not mine with you just having to slot into the way I want things. You’re right when you said we should do what we’re good at. We’ve always been about making beautiful fruit, about taste above all else, so what do you say we stop producing cider and do something different instead?’
Sam sat up straighter in his chair. ‘Like what exactly?’ he asked, a little cautiously.
‘Well, Merry and Tom have a shop opening soon that is going to stock gourmet produce…handmade, local, gourmet produce…Why don’t we start making juices instead? Beautiful single variety pressed juices, clever blends, so there’s something for every palate? Cordials, old-fashioned apple curds?’
Freya let out her breath bit by bit as she watched the slow smile start to gather on Sam’s face, the corners of his mouth begin to twitch, and the light flare in his unusual green eyes.
‘I think that’s an absolutely bloody fantastic idea!’ He turned to look at Merry for confirmation. ‘Freya Sherbourne, you are without a doubt, one of the most amazing women I have ever known.’ He gave Merry an answering nod before turning back to Freya, his eyes soft. ‘Thank you,’ he said simply.
A small noise behind him made him turn and his face immediately fell.
‘I couldn’t agree with you more,’ said Stephen, coming into the room. ‘She is an amazing woman.’ He came up behind Freya and placed both hands on her shoulders, dipping briefly to kiss her cheek. ‘And one who talks an awful lot of sense too,’ he added as he sat down. ‘In fact, she’s really very eloquent when she gets going, isn’t that right, Freya? She certainly told me a few home truths.’
He let his words hang in the air for a few moments, knowing that his silence was making Sam feel even more uncomfortable, but knowing too how important it was that he got this right. He turned his attention full on his brother.
‘I want to apologise, Sam,’ he said. ‘I know I’ve been a complete pig-headed bastard, for years in fact, not just recently, although my latest outburst was exceptional, even for me. You came to offer your help, although why you think I deserve it is beyond me, but still you did, and all I could do was throw it back in your face.’ He paused to push the hair out of his eyes. ‘You see I was scared of what I was going to do. For years I’ve belittled you, made things difficult for you, whilst all the time letting you take care of all the business…I couldn’t help overhearing what Freya suggested just now and I think it’s a brilliant idea, not because it’s one less competitor for Braeburn, but because I want you to have something, for yourself, like Freya said, something that has nothing to do with me.’ He offered his hand for Sam to shake. ‘The only thing is,’ he added ruefully, ‘that I wondered whether I might ask for your help first, just to get me on my way. I haven’t got a bloody clue what I’m doing, and you’re the expert after all.’
Sam stared at his brother, his mouth hanging open. He took the proffered hand and swallowed hard.
‘Well,’ said Merry brightly, clearing her throat and picking up the plates from the table. ‘I can’t believe the weather this morning. There’s no trace of yesterday’s storm. It’s going to be the most beautiful day.’
31
Six Weeks Later
Freya wasn’t sure which were brighter; the colours in the room, or Merry’s and Tom’s smiles as they posed for the photographer. He, like everyone else seemed stunned by the transformation of the shop he was standing in, not simply because the array of goods on offer looked so inviting, but because, in all his thirty-two years of life he had never been inside a village shop that looked the way this one did.
In fact, Merry was the only one who wasn’t surprised by the way things had turned out. As every cabinet had been moved into place, every display case installed, every picture hung on the wall, hers had not been the only guiding hand, of that she was absolutely convinced. Even Tom had stopped making suggestions, seeing the resolute look on his wife’s face and the day-by-day transformation she was wreaking. She knew exactly what she was doing, and bit by bit the shop grew around her.
First to be installed were the cupboards they had found all those weeks ago, dusted off, and with glass fronts protecting their contents, but otherwise completely untouched from the last time they had appeared in this shop – a time before Merry and Tom were even born. They were a perfect time capsule, and having been given pride of place on the wall facing whoever entered, they were as much a talking point as the vibrant art on the walls, or the reclaimed and renovated furniture which offered up whatever the locals could possibly need.
A selection of wooden tables running the length of the room held baskets packed with local produce. Jersey Royals jostled for space with fresh young carrots, and golden loaves of bread that brought the memory of the cornfields with them. Desk drawers were pulled open and filled with an array of tins and packets, and huge bookcases leaned against the walls filled with packets of flour and sugar and the biggest eggs that Freya had ever seen. A sign on a far wall pointed the way to Gorgeous Gifts and Gourmet Goodies, a space to invite and captivate, where many a weak-willed moment would occur as goods found their way into baskets.
And pride of place, carefully arranged on every inch of spare wall space were all of Christopher’s art works; bold and brilliant, an exuberance of colour and joy.
Merry stood behind the till now, her husband just behind her as they chatted to the last customers of the day. The last of a very long line in fact, of which many would soon become friends. She knew that today they had been a curiosity, perhaps tomorrow too, but soon in the very near future, their customers would be back, by routine, out of necessity, or simply because The Five Penny Shop was a part of their community, and it belonged to them now.
With a final warm goodbye and a thank you, Merry turned slightly to acknowledge Cora, waiting patiently with Robyn. She gave a nod to the portrait behind her. Hung on a pale lemon wall, a portrait of a man, and his wife and daughter, their beaming smiles radiating out across the space and returned by all who gazed on them.
‘So what do you think now, Cora? Have we done well?’
‘Oh, I reckon so. I think Christopher would be very proud, and rather honoured too.’
Merry surveyed her friend for a moment.
