Page 7 of Sparring Partners
Too late to escape, all he could do now was make sure the meeting was as brief and perfunctory as possible. Luca opened his mouth to introduce himself, but the farmer got in first.
“I’m Adrian Hardy, owner of Ladywell Farm. Nice of you to show up. At last.” Adrian’s deep voice was cool and edged with irritation.
Luca bristled, biting down on his tongue. “I apologise for being late, Mr. Hardy. My satnav lost its signal.” He proffered his hand, and attempted an apologetic smile, but his lips failed to comply. Polite and professional, make this short… and don’t mention last night…
Adrian tucked the cloth into the waistband of his jeans and enveloped Luca’s hand in his. The squeeze was firm but not crushing, his rough, calloused hand warm.
“Satnavs don’t work well the closer you get to the moor. You want to find somewhere around here, you have to go old school and use a map. Not that some of the smaller farms and hamlets even feature.” Adrian’s gaze flipped to Luca’s car, before he once again met his eye. “Didn’t expect you to be the one I’d be meeting. I didn’t recognise your voice on the message.”
“Likewise.” Luca smiled, but it felt hard and tight. He was here for the hotel, not to indulge in petty arguments or lingering resentment.
“About last night,” Adrian began, scratching the back of his neck. “I might have over reacted.”
Might?It wasn’t much of an apology, but it would have to do. Luca bobbed his head in acknowledgement.
“Perhaps you could show me around, and I can tell you what we’re looking to source? Although my executive chef tells me she’s already had a preliminary discussion with you.”
Adrian snorted. “If you mean she told me to jump, and how high, then yes we did have apreliminary discussionas you put it.”
“She’s direct. I regret if that offended you.” The words felt like he was squeezing blood from a stone.
“I appreciate directness and straight talking. What I don’t appreciate is being given orders.”
Luca bit down on his tongue.I’m here for the good of the hotel…
Adrian raked him with his eyes, his lips twitching.
“You do realise this is a working farm, don’t you? It’s wet and muddy, and there’s a lot of shit mixed in with it. Bespoke tailoring’s not exactly recommended wear. Nor are shiny Oxfords.” Adrian nodded to Luca’s shoes.
Luca stared down at himself. Wrong footed, literally. The small smile that tugged at Adrian’s lips began to look more and more like a smirk. Luca felt the cringe rise up in him, knowing the man was right. Why hadn’t he thought? Like his car, he’d be covered in god alone knew what in seconds.
“Come up to the house. I’ve got some spare wellingtons you can use. They’ll be too big, but you’ll thank me for them.” Adrian walked off, without waiting for an answer, forcing Luca to follow him.
In a large utility room, Adrian pulled a pair of battered wellingtons off a shelf.
“Thank you.” Luca pushed out the words as he exchanged his polished shoes for the scuffed, mud encrusted boots. He leant down and shoved his trousers into the wellingtons, the fine wool rucking up and creasing, all the time feeling Adrian’s mocking eyes boring into him. The suit would go straight to housekeeping for dry cleaning, ridding it of any signs of Adrian Hardy and his bloody farm.
“Hello boy, how are you feeling?”
Luca looked up. An old collie staggered into the utility room and flopped down at Adrian’s feet, gazing up at him through adoring eyes. As he stood and adjusted his cuffs, Luca knew he was completely forgotten as Adrian spoke softly to the dog and gently stroked his fur.
“I’ve got a special treat for you after dinner. You’ll like that, won’t you?” The dog answered with a weak wag of his tail before looking from Adrian to Luca, and back again, as though asking for an introduction. Adrian’s hand, pushing through the fur, stilled, before he uncurled himself to his full height. Two red patches coloured his lightly tanned face.
“This is Spud. He was my brother’s dog. Let’s begin, because I haven’t got all day.”
They said nothing as Adrian led the way through the farmyard and past a large stone barn. Luca chanced a glance at him. Adrian’s lips were pressed into a tight line, and a frown puckered his brow. It was not the look of a man ready to talk business, but one who was monumentally pissed off.
Anger burst in Luca’s gut. He could get past Adrian’s sullen attitude, his rudeness, and last night’s bad tempered encounter. He could let all that go, but what he couldn’t and wouldn’t was this huge waste of time. He had work to do, just as Adrian had, so perhaps it was time to call a halt, thank him for the time he clearly didn’t want to give, and leave him to finish his day as he needed to finish his.
“Oh.” Luca stopped in his tracks as they wound around another barn. A few steps on, Adrian turned and looked at him.
Polytunnels. Row after row of them. Luca had seen the tunnels in southern Spain, but on an industrial scale, the produce grown under their domes shipped out to feed much of Europe.
“I take it you’ve seen polytunnels before?” Adrian quirked a brow.
“Of course I have. But I suppose I wasn’t expecting to see so many of them?—”
“On a small upland farm? The weather’s too unpredictable to not use them. First year I was back, I lost my entire crop of salad leaves and a lot more besides. Heatwave. It was like the bloody Sahara. Then the temperature plummeted and we got hit by flash floods. I managed to keep the farm going — just — but it was the death knell for some of my neighbours. I grow good, organic food, but if I’m going to grow it consistently and make a living, Mother Nature, who can be a capricious mare, needs to be harnessed.”
