Page 91 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
‘Oh my God, you made me jump!’
Her sudden surprise jolted Freya too, and she put out a hand towards the woman as if to steady them both. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said swiftly. ‘Really. I didn’t mean to.’
The young woman gave a wary smile. ‘It’s okay, no permanent harm done.’ She regarded Freya curiously with narrowed eyes. ‘Were you talking to me just now? I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.’
‘Well, I was very rude, butting into your conversation like that, so it’s as well you didn’t.’
The woman looked confused. ‘My conversation? Oh, with Mr & Mrs Roberts.’ She swung around to face the grave once more. ‘Bless them. It’s their wedding anniversary today – eighty-six years, would you believe it?’ She gave Freya a quick smile. ‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I don’t know them at all; theirs is just one of the graves I’m paid to look after, so for all I know, they hated one another’s guts, but I like to dream, you know…’
There it was again, thought Freya, the wistful sadness that she had glimpsed on her face before, in those huge brown eyes.
‘I think it’s lovely, the way you talk to them. I do the same with my dad whenever I visit. One of these days I swear he’ll tell me to shut up, but for now I just chatter away. That way I feel like he’s still with me somehow, if that makes any sense.’
‘It makes perfect sense,’ said the woman. ‘I’ve seen you I think, haven’t I? On the other side of the church,’ she said shyly.
Freya nodded. ‘My dad died in April last year,’ she replied, dropping her head. ‘Although some days it feels like it was yesterday.’
Silence stretched out for a moment before Freya looked back up again to find the woman staring at her. She smiled. ‘I’m Freya, by the way.’
There was a slightly puzzled frown. ‘Freya?’ she repeated, looking for an answering nod. ‘Okay. Well, I’m Laura.’
The two women looked warily at one another, Freya feeling a little embarrassed until she remembered what she had wanted in the first place. She coughed a little self-consciously.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, but is it you who makes the beautiful wreaths I’ve seen? The one just there, and another over by the lychgate; I noticed it yesterday.’
‘Oh, the garlands?’ Laura blushed. ‘The hedgerows are bursting with such lovely stuff at the moment, it seems a shame not to share it.’ She looked around her. ‘It’s nice to use flowers and plants on the graves, but the garlands are a little bit different.’
‘I think they’re absolutely beautiful,’ said Freya. ‘In fact, they’re the nicest I’ve ever seen.’
‘Thank you.’ Laura blushed again, tipping her head to acknowledge the compliment. ‘I enjoy making them, that’s all.’
Freya could feel her excitement of yesterday beginning to return. ‘Do you make other things as well, arrangements I mean, or is it just the garlands?’
She was dismayed to see Laura’s face close up a little.
‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I just fiddle with things, when I see something that I like, but they’re just for me…or for my friends here.’ She indicated the grave behind her.
It was a funny choice of words, thought Freya, noting that Laura’s hands were now clasped around her elbows as if she was cold. She decided to back off a little.
‘I make wreaths too, at Christmas time,’ Freya said. ‘But they’re far more traditional than yours. I can’t always find the things I want, or enough of them at any rate. I sell them you see, at the Mistletoe Fair in Tenbury Wells, but they have to be pretty uniform, so I need plenty of raw materials. I’ve used fruits and berries in the past, crab apples too, but I don’t really have the time to seek them all out any more.’
‘You have the orchard, don’t you?’ cut in Laura. ‘Out on the Witley road.’
Her question surprised Freya. ‘Yes,’ she began tentatively, ‘Appleyard. Do you know it?’ she asked.
Laura bit her lip. ‘I know of it,’ she said eventually. ‘There’s a place about three fields over where you can find crab apples, or huge orange haws. They’re usually still about, even at Christmas.’
Freya smiled. ‘Maybe you could tell me more one day.’ She gave a quick glance at her watch. ‘I have to get going in a minute, but I expect I’ll see you here another time.’
‘I’m here most days,’ replied Laura quietly. ‘Except at the weekend. I never come then, it’s too…busy,’ she said. She crossed to pick up her bag and tools. ‘I should be off as well.’
Freya had to say something now or she had the feeling that the right time would never present itself. She gave a nervous smile.
‘Laura, I hope you don’t mind me saying…well, asking really, but I didn’t come here by chance this morning; I came to see you.’ She continued quickly at the sight of Laura’s horrified face. ‘Only because I meant what I said – I do absolutely love your garlands, but also because I’ve been looking for someone who could make things like this for a while now. I’m getting married soon, and these would be perfect for the wedding. They’d tell our story so beautifully…’ She trailed off, unsure how to frame her question without it sounding too scary. In the end, she decided to simply spit it out. ‘Would you consider helping me with our wedding flowers…? It’s in three weeks.’
Laura’s expression was unchanged.
‘Look, you don’t have to give me an answer now. It’s a lot to ask, and I know I’m a bit of a bull in a china shop sometimes, but will you think about it at least? I’d pay you of course, and we could talk about it…’
