Chapter 10
10
POPPY
I slept exceptionally well my first night in Whisperwood Farmhouse and woke up feeling more refreshed than I had in months, helped by a combination of fatigue after the long drive and an incredibly comfortable bed.
Mary had kindly left me some provisions including a fresh loaf of bread, some homemade soup, a home-baked apple pie and a pot of custard which saved me from going back out and hunting for a takeaway in the dark and rain. I’d had a lovely relaxing evening curled up on the comfy sofa under Mum’s throw with a delicious meal and the first few episodes of Darrington Detects .
This morning it was clear and bright with no sign of rain so, after toasting some of Mary’s bread for breakfast, I decided to take a walk before settling down to work. Stepping out of the front door, I breathed in deeply. There was something so delicious about the air after a downpour, so clean and fresh.
Whisperwood Farmhouse was lovely. The stone cottage was painted white with a slate roof, a sage-green door and matching window frames, and it oozed with character inside and out. A single-storey extension had been added to the side to create a large kitchen-diner with a cosy snug in what must have been the original kitchen and a double-storey extension had been added to the back to create a fourth double bedroom and extended lounge. There was a small lawn out the front with a picnic bench on it, enclosed by a stone wall and, out the back, was a larger lawn and further seating. There wasn’t a garage but there was enough space to easily park three cars on the driveway.
I stepped back and snapped a few photos on my phone to show Dad. Even though he’d probably wonder why a ‘stranger’ was sharing her holiday snaps with him, I knew he’d love both the building and the beautiful setting, and it would give us something other than the birds to talk about. I paused, frowning as I scrolled through the photos. The man I’d known would have been interested but I wasn’t so sure about the boy he’d become. Feeling sad about that, but determined to shake it off, I slipped my phone back in my pocket and set off walking along a narrow track, which ran round the back of the farmhouse and alongside the fields.
The farmhouse was surrounded by gently rolling fields. In the distance was another white house flanked by various outbuildings, which had to be Bumblebee Barn – the family farm which Mary’s grandson ran. The nearest fields were arable and there appeared to mainly be crops on the far side of Bumblebee Barn, but there were animals in the fields in between. They were a bit far away for me to be sure but it looked like they had sheep and pigs.
My phone rang and I smiled at Phil’s name on the screen with a FaceTime request.
‘I hear you’re finally taking a holiday,’ he said after we’d exchanged greetings.
‘Your mum told you?’
He nodded. ‘She’s been worried about you. We all have. And I bet you’ve got some work with you.’
I smiled at him. ‘Guilty. I can’t afford to take a week off, but I promise I am having some relaxation time. I watched TV last night and I’m out for a walk right now although I’m not sure whether I’ll lose signal if I walk too far so I’d better stop here. It’s very pretty.’
‘Show me your view.’
I turned the phone round and panned 360 degrees.
‘Very nice,’ Phil said when I turned the phone back to me. ‘Mum says you’re staying till Sunday. Any chance you could make it Monday instead? I’m going to be in the area and I’m free on Sunday night if you fancy a catch-up. It’s been too long.’
I hesitated. It was another day away from Dad, but Marnie’s words came back to me. He would be none the wiser and I needed to accept that. And it would be so good to catch up with Phil in person.
‘It has been too long,’ I agreed, smiling at him. ‘Mary’s stopping by tonight so I’ll check it’s okay with her and let you know.’
‘Brilliant. You stay out of mischief, and I’ll hopefully see you on Sunday.’
I continued on my walk with a smile. It would be a lovely, unexpected gift to catch up with Phil while I was here.
Looking back, Phil and I had married too young, me being twenty-one and fresh from university, and Phil being a year older. Although both sets of parents had supported our marriage, Mum had urged us to wait a while, saying that the twenties was a decade in which people grew and changed and not necessarily in the same direction. Phil and I had appreciated the advice but were convinced that wouldn’t be the case for us.
A couple of years into our marriage, I was blissfully happy. I loved my job, my beekeeping and living in a small house near my parents, and I was ready for the next stage in our relationship – starting a family. Phil was not so settled. He wanted to move from sound engineering into music production, was keen to relocate to London and wanted to wait until our thirties before we considered children. I agreed to put a pause on having a family – we needed to both be ready and fully committed to that – and was happy to support Phil’s career plans, but I had zero interest in moving to London. So we spent a lot of time apart while he worked in London and travelled to Europe. That time apart took its toll on our relationship in a way that the time apart at university hadn’t.
A fortnight before Christmas, after we’d been married a little over four years, Phil returned to the UK for a month and it was obvious to me over the next few days that something had shifted between us. It usually took a day or so to get used to being around each other once more, but this was different. I thought about what Mum had said about changing in our twenties, I thought about her favourite quote, and I knew what the scary thing was that I had to do that day.
It was one of the scariest conversations I’d ever had but also the best thing I could have done because Phil felt the same as me and we were able to navigate our concerns together and emerge unscathed as friends. We agreed to one last happy family Christmas before announcing our plans to divorce in the New Year.
Phil had since remarried. His wife, Reina, was Spanish and they’d met when he’d been producing an album in Ibiza on which she was a backing singer. He spent most of his time between London and Spain and I usually saw him and Reina at Saltersbeck Farm over Christmas. I adored her. Whenever I spent time with her, I felt like I’d been bathed in human sunshine. She and Phil were so well suited and it made me happy to know that he’d found someone who was part of his lifestyle, who loved moving around, who found bright lights and big cities exhilarating. She understood and supported my friendship with Phil and always encouraged us to meet up whenever he was in the UK.
I hadn’t seen them last Christmas because their first child, Eliana, had been born in Spain just a few days earlier. The Maynards had gone over there for Christmas instead. I’d been invited to join them, but I’d gone to The Larks for Christmas Day with Dad.
Continuing on my walk, I spotted a quad bike travelling across one of Bumblebee Barn’s fields. When I was little, Ian had often taken me out on his bike and it had been so much fun, bouncing over the tracks and fields, but I hadn’t been on one for years. I wasn’t sure I’d be brave enough to ride one now. I used to be carefree and daring but now I just craved a quiet, simple life with my bees. I wouldn’t say no to finding love again, but now wasn’t the time.
I rested against a metal barred gate, taking in the beautiful countryside surrounding me. My parents would have loved it here. I could just imagine Dad marching across the fields and asking the farmer if he’d like some beehives on his land. Picturing a field full of hives made me feel warm inside. Some might say that beekeeping was brave but bees weren’t a threat if you had the right equipment and knew what you were doing which I absolutely did. Learning all about beekeeping from my dad had been the best thing I’d ever done with my life.
It was so tranquil here, just like at Honey Bee Croft, and I felt like I’d found somewhere I could finally relax and breathe. Extending my stay by another day would be an absolute pleasure.
At noon, I broke off from my work briefly to have the rest of the soup and bread which Mary had left for me. Mid-afternoon, I stopped again to go food shopping. There was a binder of information in the kitchen with details of local shops, eateries and places to visit, which I’d flicked through last night. I’d hoped to find a farm shop, but there didn’t appear to be any in the area although there’d been details of a garden centre called Bloomsberry’s which had a food section, so I’d decided to give that a try.
Bloomsberry’s was on the outskirts of a pretty village called Cherry Brompton and it was huge. As I made my way through each section of the garden centre, I smiled thinking about how much my parents would have loved it. Dad had been the green-fingered one but they’d always shopped for plants together as Mum had a great eye for colour and what would work well together. Conscious I could easily lose an hour or two browsing – time I didn’t have to spare – I tore myself away from the plants in search of food.
The produce section was packed with delicious-looking biscuits, cakes and chocolates and carried a wide range of locally made soft drinks and beers. There was a section for fresh bread, but it was obviously popular as there was nothing left. I popped a packet of cheese scones and a jar of chutney advertised as working well with them into a wicker basket, as well as a small packet of cherry tomatoes and some celery for my lunch tomorrow. Standing by an open fridge full of fresh ready meals, the basket on the floor by my side, I was trying to decide which I fancied for dinner tonight. They all sounded delicious. I reached out for one, then retracted my hand as I spotted another so I went for that, but changed my mind. Moments later, a man joined me so I moved aside to give him access to the fridge. He grabbed four meals and placed them in his basket and I admired his decisiveness as my eyes darted across all the tempting choices.
‘Struggling to decide?’ he asked.
I glanced up at him. He was tall – over six feet at a guess – and broad-shouldered like a rugby player. He was also incredibly attractive with short dirty-blond hair, a square jawline and a friendly smile, making my stomach do an unexpected loop-the-loop.
‘Every time I think I’ve decided, I spot something else.’
‘The smoked salmon and asparagus pasta’s my personal favourite. The chicken teriyaki’s really good too.’ He tilted his basket and I laughed as he had two of each in there.
‘Thanks for the recommendations.’
‘Enjoy!’ he said, with another smile before walking towards the tills.
I watched him for a moment, admiring those strong shoulders and imagining what it would be like to be hugged by someone with a physique like that. Must take all your worries away. Surprised at where my train of thought was heading, I turned back to the fridge and selected the two meals he’d recommended.
After adding a bottle of sparkling elderflower to my basket, I made my way towards the tills, pausing by a beautiful display of cut flowers. Mary was coming round tonight and I could give her a bouquet to thank her for letting me stay at such short notice and for charging me a ridiculously low amount which she claimed was because of the redecoration needed. Yes, there were some chips and scuffs but nothing I wouldn’t expect from a holiday cottage, and it certainly didn’t detract from the charm and comfort so there was no need for her to charge so little.
I studied the bouquets for a while and was drawn to a beautiful spring one bursting with yellow, purple and white flowers. There was only one left in the bucket and, as I wrapped my hands round it, so did somebody else from the other side and our fingers touched. We both let go and I looked up into the eyes of Mr Rugby Physique from earlier, my stomach doing another backflip.
‘Looks like we have the same taste in flowers as well as meals,’ I said, laughing.
He had such a lovely smile, his eyes twinkling. ‘You went for the salmon and the teriyaki?’
‘I did. I’m putting the success of my next two evening meals in the hands of a stranger.’
He mock-grimaced. ‘Risky! I’m sure you won’t be disappointed, but you’d better take the flowers, just in case. I’ll pick a different bunch.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘They’re not for anything special – just for a friend to say thanks for a favour.’ He picked a bouquet of pinks and purples and held them up to me, as though seeking my approval.
‘Good choice. If I was a friend who’d done you a favour, I’d be happy with them.’
We went to the tills and, as I was served, I was very aware of Mr Rugby Physique being served directly opposite me. We kept looking up and smiling at each other. He didn’t have as much to buy as me so he left with another smile and a nod of his head and I felt strangely disappointed, which was crazy. What had I expected him to do? Suggest we go for a drink to compare opinions on the teriyaki? And what would I do if he had? He was obviously local and I lived nearly four hours away – absolute non-starter. But, as I drove home, I couldn’t help drifting into a little fantasy world where he’d been waiting for me in the car park and did ask if I fancied that drink. It would have been nice.