Page 69 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
She was just about to reply when she noticed that Freya had put down the jar of olives she was studying, and was watching her intently. It threw her for a minute, and she scrambled to say something quickly. Too late.
‘Willow, is everything all right? You can tell me to mind my own business if you like, but we’ve been friends for too long for me not to notice when things aren’t quite right. A couple of times now when we’ve talked about this new venture, you’ve seemed almost panicky, as if things weren’t happening quickly enough. I mean, one minute you had a utility room, cleared out, but just a blank space, and almost the next day it was kitted out as if you were going into full production. Something doesn’t quite add up here…’ She stopped for a moment, thinking about what she had just said.
‘It’s not the business, is it?’ she asked quickly. ‘Everything with Jude is all right?’
The question caught Willow off guard. She thought she had hidden her feelings well, but Freya had put her finger on it with unerring accuracy. To her surprise, she felt tears beginning to well up. What on earth could she say? She had no proof that her suspicions were true; they were based on dreams for heaven’s sake, and to admit them out loud was tantamount to admitting she was going mad. She would also be accusing Jude before she had any facts at all. It would seem like a betrayal when all she was really trying to do was help. Just as quickly another thought came to her – a memory of a conversation with Freya in her kitchen, when she’d told her about Christmas and the stranger who had caused her to think a little differently. And here was Merry talking about a dead painter who had somehow provided her with the inspiration for her brilliant shop. Perhaps they would understand after all.
‘You’re going to think I’m quite mad,’ she started.
Freya laughed. ‘Oh, I’ve always known you’re mad,’ she said. ‘But since when did that ever stop us being friends?’ She smiled warmly, and when Willow looked across to Merry, she saw the same expression echoed there too.
‘It’s really hard to know where to start,’ she began. ‘Everything with the business is fine, and with Jude too; more than fine, and perhaps that’s part of the problem. Despite his mother’s best efforts, his father brought him up in his own image, and although Jude thankfully is nothing like Andrew in many ways, they share the same relentless materialistic streak. It’s something I’ve always recognised in Jude, something that’s always worried me a little, to tell the truth, even though for the most part he manages to keep it well in check. Even my mum warned me about it when we first got together.’
Freya came around the side of the table and perched on the corner of it. ‘Actually, I always liked your mum. A bit kooky admittedly, but she always seemed so vibrant, so alive. Don’t forget my own mum bailed out on us when I was only little. I loved my dad, you know that, but when I was younger, your family always seemed so happy, and I always used to think how much fun it must be to be you.’
Willow touched her hand to her mouth. ‘I never knew that,’ she said, eyes starting to smart again.
‘Well, I’m telling you now; one, because it’s true, and two, because I know you had a hard time when you were younger, kids calling your mum names just because she was a bit different to everyone else’s. But looking back, all I see is a bunch of kids who never knew any better. My life has shown me, more so over the last year, that not everything that happens to us can be explained. And neither is everything black-and-white; if we allow it, life can be the most wondrous collection of colours, in every shade of the rainbow.’
Merry was nodding her head. ‘I agree. The things that have happened to me over the last few months probably don’t make any sense. If you ask my husband, he’d tell you a very different story. Whenever I try to tell him exactly how I feel about recent events, he gives me that weird look, you know, the one that saysyou’ve just had a baby and your brain is still a pile of mush. Whatever you need to tell us, I don’t suppose I’ll be the least bit surprised – just say it as it is.’
Willow smiled gratefully. ‘A few months ago, I started to have dreams, nothing specific at first, just a vague feeling of unease. And it was at about the same time that Jude first mentioned he had a meeting up in Birmingham with his father. This alone was enough to set warning bells ringing.’ She nodded at Merry. ‘You probably don’t know, but Andrew is still a silent partner in the business. He and Jude started Middleton Estates mostly with his capital, and even now the strawberry fields, meadowland, our house, and everything else belongs to the business. It will all transfer to Jude at some point or another of course when Andrew dies, but it’s always made me feel uneasy; I feel beholden to him, even though I know he can’t take any decisions without Jude’s agreement. Jude has always run the company day to day, but he had a big meeting with his father at the very moment I started having my dreams. Other people might not see the significance, but to me it’s like a shining beacon.’
‘So what do you think is going on?’ asked Freya. ‘Couldn’t you just ask Jude?’
‘I could.’ Willow paused for a moment, wondering how best to phrase her next statement. She was painfully aware that any minute she’d be laughed out of the shop. ‘A couple of nights ago, I had a vision that all the land around us was completely desecrated, torn up to make room for houses. I’m convinced this is what Jude is planning, or, more likely, is an idea that his father has hatched, and Jude is going along with for some reason. I know it makes me sound like a crazy person, but I almost don’t need to know any more than that. There’s no way I can talk to Jude about it, when everything I feel is based on dreams; he’d think I’m mad. So, the only thing I can think of is to offer Jude a real and valid choice, an alternative future and, importantly, a reason to go against his father’s wishes.’
‘Hence the new business venture?’ suggested Merry.
Willow nodded sadly. ‘And the need to get it up and running in far less time than is really feasible.’
Freya crossed the room to stand by her friend’s side. ‘Then it sounds to me like we need a hefty dose of girl power to help things along. What do you reckon, Merry? It’s scary trying to do things like this on your own, and what could be more wonderful than Merry and me helping you out? Merry has the perfect place to sell your produce, plus business contacts coming out of her ears, I have some of the raw materials you need to get up and running, and I know where I can get more, and you have granny Gilly’s notebook. From where I’m standing, that’s a pretty powerful combination.’
Willow looked around the room one more time. All her instincts were telling her that this was the right thing to do, and they had never let her down before. Besides what other choice did she have? Her future with the man she loved, and that of her children, were at stake here. It was time to fight.
36
Willow called Peter over to see her the very next morning. It was not long since his breakfast, but despite the early hour he’d already been hard at work for a couple of hours. It would be mercilessly hot out in the fields today with no shelter, and the strawberries were much better if picked when they still held the morning’s freshness.
She had a mug of tea waiting for him as he sauntered through the door, his enormous flip-flop-clad feet squeaking across her floor.
‘Ah, cheers,’ he said, as Willow handed him his drink. ‘Is everything okay?’
Peter was one of the best students she’d ever had. Over the years they had ranged from the gormless to the adequate as long as she kept an eye on them, but Peter was different. Apart from Rachael who had been with them for the past three years, he was the only one with any initiative. He was quiet and studious, with floppy brown hair and a big bushy beard, but his unobtrusive manner belied a keen intellect and a sharp wit. They got on like a house on fire. Trouble was there was only one of him, and right now Willow needed six or seven.
She gave him a bright smile. ‘Wonderful,’ she replied. ‘How’s it looking out there today?’
‘Busy, and hot,’ he grinned. ‘But mostly hot.’
Willow looked at her watch. ‘Well, let’s see how it goes. If the sky stays this clear, by two the heat will be unbearable. No one will come to pick, so you must call it a day. I don’t want you keeling over on me.’
Peter was six foot three and had muscles like Popeye, and his expression let her know in no uncertain terms that she was fussing, but she waggled her finger at him anyway.
‘Actually, I wanted to ask a favour if that’s okay? I’ve been having a bit of a think recently about branching out a little; making some cordials, ice creams, that sort of thing, but I’m a bit short on manpower. I don’t suppose by any happy chance you have a handful of mates who’d like some work over the next day or so? They’d need to be like you, mind, not afraid of hard work.’
Peter wiped a hand across his lips as he drained the last of his tea. ‘Is that what the amazing smell is all about?’ he asked. ‘I was wondering. Can I see?’
He crossed to the sink and rinsed his mug under the tap, upending it on the draining board before turning back to her, an endearing query on his face. Willow had no choice but to lead the way out into the hallway and into the room opposite.
