Page 9 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘I will, because it’s not as if you’ve earned any of it. How soon was it after Dad died that you moved in here, eh? It used to be a partnership, Gareth, but it hasn’t been one for a long time; just up to the point where you thought your grand prize was within reach, in fact. I cook, clean, clear up after you, wash your clothes and generally run around after you each and every day as well as everything else I have to do here, while you go out to work. Not that I see any of the fruits of your labour. What exactly do you contribute to this so-called partnership?’
‘I’ve been saving my money for us, putting it aside for our new life actually, if you’d bothered to ask.’
‘So how much have you saved then, Mr Accountant? You’ve had your hands on my books these last few months, but how much have you saved for our future after you’ve bought that swanky new car, and had your weekends away with the boys? Not to mention that bloody cruise that was a monumental waste of money?’ Freya lurched to her feet too, keeping one hand on the table.
Gareth glared at her as she held his gaze. ‘Jesus, what are you accusing me of now? I don’t have to stand here and listen to this.’
‘How much, Gareth?’
He threw the papers onto the floor and gave the chair back an almighty shove before stalking from the room.
‘Yeah right…I thought as much,’ muttered Freya sadly.
She looked at Amos for a moment who was still pinned to his chair unable to move, and then slowly sat back down, her body deflating like a balloon. She rested her head on the table. ‘Oh, dear Lord,’ she said to no one in particular.
4
Amos certainly hadn’t slept much, and he reckoned Freya had slept even less, but somehow, he missed her the next morning. She must have gone out at the crack of dawn. The house was still in darkness as he crept downstairs, checking as he did so that Gareth’s car was still in the yard. He didn’t suppose that he’d be up too early, but one thing was for certain, Amos didn’t want to be anywhere near him when he did.
Taking an apple from the fruit bowl and a hunk of the fresh bread he had made the day before, he slipped on his jacket and boots and softly closed the kitchen door behind him. He didn’t know how far it was to the Hendersons’ farm, but he knew the general direction it lay in and he’d enjoy the walk at any rate. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam Henderson would be the only one up at this hour of the morning, and there were a couple of things that Amos wanted to chat to him about. He wasn’t quite sure why Stephen was so keen to buy Appleyard in such a hurry, but something about the whole thing didn’t smell right to him.
He’d only gone a matter of a mile or so when he felt a familiar prickle on the back of his neck. He walked on a little further, the feeling growing stronger with each step until he had to stop by the side of the road and wait for the feeling to pass. If he concentrated hard, he could usually sort out the ‘noise’ in his head until he understood its sound, but this time, nothing he did could alleviate it. He leaned on the farm gate for a few more moments feeling slightly nauseous when a movement in the field caught his eye, and suddenly he understood. In the distance a rider was putting a horse through its paces and, without a second thought, Amos braced his arms on the top of the gate and swung himself over.
The field was large, and it took him some while to reach them, the horse becoming aware of him first, slowing from a canter to a walk, and finally stopping altogether despite the best efforts of its rider. Amos could sense the confusion in the young man as his horse steadfastly refused to move until, finally, Amos was close enough for him to register his presence. The rider raised a hand, in warning, not in greeting, but Amos paid him no heed. The huge bay stallion walked over to him, eventually standing quietly by his side.
The rider shielded his eyes from the low morning sun as he squinted to get a better view.
‘By rights, you should be dead by now, coming up on a horse like that.’
Amos stroked the bay’s nose while it blew steamy breaths into his hand.
‘You’re Sam, aren’t you?’ he asked. ‘Sam Henderson? Sorry, we weren’t properly introduced the other day.’
The rider nodded, peering closer until a gleam of recognition appeared in his eyes. He slipped his feet out of the stirrups and slid down from the horse, rubbing its flank for a moment before turning back to Amos.
‘You’re the chap who’s been helping Freya, aren’t you? You were with her at the mistletoe sales as well. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.’
‘It’s Amos. Amos Fry.’
Sam shook his hand. ‘Well, Amos, you either know a lot about horses or you’re a bloody idiot. Bailey here doesn’t normally take too kindly to strangers.’
‘I’m sorry I alarmed you, but Bailey and I seem to be getting along just fine,’ Amos replied as the horse nuzzled his hand. ‘I was on my way to see you actually, Freya mentioned you.’
Sam grimaced. ‘Well, I can imagine what she had to say, and none of it complimentary I’m sure.’
‘Actually, it’s only your brother she dislikes.’
He laughed. ‘Really…? Oh, well yes, he does seem to have that effect on people. Anyway, what can I do for you, Amos?’
‘Have you spoken to your brother since last night?’
‘You must be joking, it’s only eight o’clock. My brother won’t be up for hours yet.’
‘Well, in that case, perhaps we could walk a little, and I’ll explain.’
Amos eventually found Freya sitting in the dark on a gate at the far end of the orchard. He’d also found only one car in the yard upon his return, and the scribbled note from Gareth on the side in the kitchen. She’d been crying of course.
He peeled her icy hands away from the cold metal of the gate and led her unyielding into the house where the fire he had laid earlier was roaring. He placed a blanket around her shoulders and a mug of hot chocolate in front of her and then went to sit in one of the armchairs opposite her, where he pretended to read for half an hour before she spoke.
