Page 106 of A Year at Appleyard Farm
Of course, this lightening of the mood, welcome though it was, had also meant that a quick coffee had turned into the best part of an hour-and-a-half as the conversation flowed. Now, he couldn’t remember half of what they had talked about, and that was something he didn’t want to think about either. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, hadn’t in fact at any time in his life so far, and the thought was more than a little unnerving. He didn’t know what to do with himself. He focused on his driving, and switched on the radio. He knew the road ahead like the back of his hand and there was no way he was going to get past this tractor. He was here for the duration, and he might as well try to find something to distract himself with.
He fiddled with the radio until he found a station playing eighties songs. As a small child, their kitchen had always been the place for music, his mother’s tinny radio blaring it out from its permanent place on the windowsill. He’d never really bothered much with music over the years, and they were still the songs he knew best. As he’d grown older, he’d swapped the kitchen for the pub, or gone to clubs and parties. Records had been the background to much of life, and yet he was ashamed to think how little he’d appreciated what he heard. In a few minutes, he’d be finalising the music for his brother’s wedding reception, and he had no idea what he wanted, what Sam and Freya would want. It was a stark reminder that so much in his life to date had been given so little thought. The only things he had cared about were his own selfish desires.
He caught sight of himself in the wing mirror as he peered around the tractor and looked away. He had taken so much for granted: wealth, his home, his family. Even women, attracted at first by what they saw on the outside. They never stayed long of course, once they got to know Stephen, but that had never mattered. Plenty of sex and no commitments had suited him just fine. But now he wondered what it must be like to have none of those things? To love someone so much that the pain of being without them was almost unbearable, to have to fight for every penny, to feel alone almost every day, because an invisible disability distanced you from the world. Even the joy of music or birdsong was denied you. He pulled up behind the tractor as it stopped at the end of the road and switched the radio off. He had time to make a difference, he thought, as he turned the opposite way to the tractor and accelerated out onto the clear road. Not much time admittedly, but it would have to be enough.
‘It’s a good job, I’ve known Sam since we were five,’ joked Ash, ‘you’re bloody hopeless.’
Stephen pulled a face. ‘Tell me something I don’t know,’ he said, frowning. ‘Actually, tell me it’s not a problem and that you know exactly what music to play despite my lack of input.’
Ash chewed the end of the pen he was holding. ‘Maybe now might be the time to tell you that I bumped into Sam at the petrol station last week, and he gave me a bit of a heads-up. He mentioned you might be clueless.’ He smiled. ‘In the nicest possible way of course…so we’ll be fine. I’ll get them all up and dancing, don’t worry, and I’ve come up with the perfect song for their first dance so even that’s sorted.’
Stephen looked up sharply. ‘Oh God, is that a thing?’ he groaned. ‘How was I supposed to know that?’
Ash grinned. ‘I think you might need to brush up on your best man’s duties…although I don’t suppose you ever thought you’d be needing to, what with…well, everything that went on—’ He stopped for a moment, his face falling. ‘Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean…’
Stephen shrugged. ‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It was a long time ago. A lot of water under the bridge, and me and Sam are good now. Freya too, actually.’ He swallowed.
‘Yeah, he mentioned that,’ replied Ash, with an answering nod. ‘I’m glad that things worked out…’
‘Me too. Freya and I…well, it would never have worked. I know I’ve been a dick most of my life, but I’m genuinely glad she’s with Sam; it’s where she was always meant to be. It’s just unfortunate that despite my best intentions now, Sam still has a shit best man.’ He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket. ‘At least I can do one thing, though, and that is pay you. What did we say, two hundred and fifty quid, wasn’t it?’ He pulled out a roll of bank notes and placed them on the desk in front of him. ‘And you know where you’re going, don’t you? The marquee will be up from the Thursday before, so you can set up whenever suits you.’
Ash pulled out a money tin from a drawer beside him. ‘Yeah, I’ll shout if I have any problems. Hang on a sec, and I’ll print you out a receipt.’ He turned his computer screen back towards him and clicked the mouse that lay on the desk beside it. A printer behind him whirred into life, and he passed the single sheet of paper it produced across to Stephen. ‘Cheers, mate. Another one to add to your pile, no doubt.’
Stephen glanced at the paper before folding it in half. ‘Thanks, Ash,’ he said with a grimace. ‘Now I’ll just go and worry about all the other things I’m supposed to be doing.’ He rose from his chair and crossed the tiny office from which Ash ran his business. The door was half-open before he noticed the poster that was stuck on the back. He stopped for a moment, before turning back towards the room. ‘This is something new, is it?’ he asked, tapping the poster.
‘Oh, aye,’ nodded Ash. ‘Got to move with the times, my friend. Actually, they’ve been really popular. Good for a giggle and all that, especially when folks have got a few on board if you know what I mean.’
Stephen looked down at the receipt in his hand. ‘Yeah, I bet,’ he said, thinking out loud. ‘I don’t really know much about them,’ he added. ‘How do they work exactly?’
It was probably the worst idea he’d ever had. It was rash at the very least, but now that he’d done it, he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. The thought of Laura’s face when she realised what was happening, what it might lead to…Stephen groaned out loud and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He rested his head on the steering wheel and took deep breaths. Dear God, what on earth was the matter with him? He couldn’t sit in their driveway for long; any minute now Freya would look out of the kitchen window and spot him. But how on earth was he going to go inside and tell her, and Sam for that matter, that he’d just completely hijacked their plans for their wedding reception? And that wasn’t all he’d done either.
He lifted his head and glanced down at his groin, checking that he had everything under control. Knowing how protective his future sister-in-law was of Laura, there was no way he could enter their kitchen in his current state. He was in for an earbashing as it was. He refocused his mind very firmly, and reluctantly climbed from the car.
As it turned out, the kitchen was empty when he pushed open the door, and a bout of loud yelling through the house brought no response either. Freya and Sam must both still be outside, which was a pity; he’d rather hoped that he’d be able to get either one of them on their own. He doubled back on himself, past the car and across the yard to the big barn that lay along one side of it. This too was empty, but as he neared the large open doors on the far side, voices floated through from outside. He groaned again. This was really not going well.
She had her back to him as he emerged outside, but he could hear her soft voice trail off as she caught sight of Freya’s expression which changed to one of greeting as soon as she saw him. Laura turned around, and he saw her cheeks coloured pink by whatever excitement had lifted her voice too. She was holding a bouquet in her hands.
‘I’d forgotten you were coming!’ exclaimed Freya, giving him a beaming smile. ‘Because look what Laura’s brought over to show me. Now I’m that bloody excited I can’t stand still.’ And as if to illustrate her point, she gave a little hop. ‘What do you think? Isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?’
Stephen, who was looking at Laura, could only nod. It wasn’t until Freya took the bouquet from Laura’s hands offering it to him that he realised he was supposed to say something. He took the bouquet, feeling the coolness of the blooms against his skin, the rosy apples mingled with creamy flowers, scarlet hips and dusky blackberries. There wasn’t anything hecouldthink of to say.
‘It’s just a rough one,’ said Laura. ‘You know, to give you the idea of how it might look, what we might use.’
Stephen nodded again. ‘It doesn’t look rough,’ he managed. ‘It looks perfect…I couldn’t quite grasp what you meant when you described it to me this morning, but now…’ He was aware of Freya staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t look at her.
‘I’d forgotten that you two had already seen one another today,’ said Freya, taking hold of Laura’s arm. ‘How did that go? Come on, we can go and put the kettle on, and you can tell me all about it.’ She beamed at Stephen. ‘And bring that, I don’t think I can bear to let it out of my sight.’
Fortunately for Stephen, Laura and Freya were so excited that he hardly needed to say a word, which was just as well considering that his ability to speak had somehow deserted him. Unfortunately, however, Laura’s excitement at Freya’s reaction to her flowers spilled over into her recounting their time in the police station that morning, and so instead Stephen had to sit squirming at every mention of his name.
‘Well, I hope they string the bastard up,’ declared Freya. ‘And well done you, Stephen, for sticking up for Laura. I had no idea that all this with Francis had gone on before, but then I don’t suppose many people do. I hate the way he does business and most of the growers around here would probably say the same, but that’s entirely different. I had no idea what a horrible man he was personally.’ She took a sip of tea from the mug in front of her. ‘As far as Giles is concerned, I’ve always thought there’s truth in that old saying thatthe apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree.’ She took Laura’s hand. ‘Have you heard how your friend is doing?’
Laura shook her head. ‘No, I was planning on going to see her tomorrow,’ she replied, running a finger around the bottom of her mug. ‘I’ve been putting it off, to be honest…I don’t have very fond memories of that hospital.’ She gave an apologetic smile. ‘But I must go, Blanche was very good to me when David died.’
‘Well, Stephen can go with you, can’t you, Stephen? That would help, surely, having some company.’
Stephen couldn’t believe it. He tried to glare at Freya without Laura noticing, but of course she had her eyes fixed on his face, so it was impossible. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go, far from it in fact, but simply that the way he was feeling right now, being around Laura for too long probably wasn’t a great idea. If only Freya hadn’t blurted it out the way she had. Perhaps if she’d run it by him first, he could have tactfully made an excuse, or at least let her understand some of his…difficulties…but there was nothing for it now. He fixed a bright smile to his face.
‘Well, that sounds sensible. I’m more than happy to go with you, Laura, if that’s okay with you of course.’
