Page 64 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘A couple of weeks ago. Three actually.’
Freya looked up, concern crossing her face. ‘You gonna tell me why?’ she asked softly, taking a seat at the table. Willow followed suit.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever actually shown you this,’ she said, and pushed the notebook across the table towards Freya, where it sat looking suspiciously like a can of worms.
Freya stared at it.
‘I’ll explain. I know you all thought I was weird when we were kids, especially Stephen—’
‘Stephen thought everyone was weird…’
Willow smiled at the memory of Sam’s brother. ‘Yes, maybe. But we all joked about it, me included. I know my mum was different from everyone else’s, but do you remember what she said just after you and Sam, well, you know, the Stephen thing.’
‘You can say it you know, Willow. After I dumped Sam, ran off with his brother and then jilted him at the altar,’ said Freya. ‘I vaguely remember it. Your mum said everything would come right in the end and that I’d get Sam back again one day. But everybody told me that, Willow; they were just trying to make me feel better. No one was more surprised than me when it actually happened…’ She looked down at the notebook and then back up at Willow. ‘Actually, thinking about it,youweren’t that surprised when I told you what happened at Christmas…’
Willow picked up the book and eased off the tie that was holding it closed. She took out an envelope tucked between the pages and held it out to Freya.
‘Here it is in black and white,’ she said. ‘Mum sent me this letter at university, just after your wedding should have taken place. The first page is general chit chat and goings-on in the village etcetera, but you might want to read the second page.’
Freya took the letter, looking bemused. It was a long time ago, after all. She took out the thin white sheets and began to read.
…I saw Freya in the village shop only yesterday, and she looked awful, poor love. It was a brave thing to do, though; Jenny and Sarah were in there, clearly talking about her. They stopped of course when they saw her, but it was so obvious. I wanted to talk to her then to tell her that things would be okay, but by the time I’d paid for my things, she’d gone. She must have legged it pretty quick, and who can blame her. Anyway, please tell her next time you see her, my dream was very explicit. It will take a long time, years even, but she was definitely with Sam, and it was definitely Christmas time, I could smell the pine from the tree like it was in the room with me. There was someone else there too, someone with black curly hair, but I couldn’t see any more…
Freya looked up in shock.
‘From what you told me that was pretty much how it happened, wasn’t it?’ asked Willow.
Freya nodded mutely. ‘So Jessie knew,’ she continued. ‘She actually knew…’
Willow leaned over to touch Freya’s hand. ‘There were other things of course, things I never told you about back then; you all thought I was weird enough. I don’t blame you for not believing me, but to me she was just my mum.’
‘And just like her own mum I’m guessing?’ Freya said, eyeing the notebook still in Willow’s hands. ‘So that’s granny Gilly’s, is it? Her book of spells.’
Willow looked at the ceiling. ‘I know it sounds far-fetched, but you should see what’s in here, Freya. Some amazing recipes apart from anything else, which is one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. But aside from that there are some…well, let’s just call them remedies, shall we?’
Freya stayed silent for a moment, weighing up what she’d just been told. ‘So why am I here?’ she asked eventually.
Willow inhaled deeply, letting her breath out in a slow, controlled movement.
‘Because I’ve had a few weird dreams of my own lately, nothing that momentous, but they’ve got me thinking about what we do here, or rather the potential for what we might do here. Once I started to think about it, I couldn’t stop…only I might need your help.’
‘Me?’ asked Freya, surprised. ‘What can I do?’
‘Well, I heard on the grapevine that you and Sam are changing a few things at the orchard and that maybe you’re not going to be making cider any more?’
Freya sighed. ‘The jungle drums work well, don’t they? My fault. When Sam and I got back together, I didn’t realise quite how difficult it would be for him to up and leave the family business and his home. He’s totally committed to Appleyard now, but still, having his brother as our main competitor down the road wasn’t easy, and you know what Stephen’s like.’
‘Is he ever going to grow up, do you think?’
‘Well, actually, it’s early days, but I think there might be some progress in that direction. There’s been something of a truce called lately, but I don’t count my chickens where Stephen is concerned. I thought moving away from cider production and into juices instead might help Sam feel more settled, more like it was our business and not just mine any longer.’
Willow took a sip of her drink. ‘And has it?’ she asked, over the rim of her glass.
Freya’s reply was immediate. ‘Oh yes,’ she said. ‘Just try stopping us now; we’ve got that many plans. A range of our own juices for definite, perhaps other products too, and we’re also going to set up a community juice pressing service so that locals or other small growers like ourselves can come and press their own fruit.’
Willow’s grin was getting wider and wider by the minute.
‘I take it that was what you wanted to hear.’ Freya laughed.
