Chapter 10
‘I need to get the gate back on its hinges, then fix some fence posts where I think Bertie and Harriet have been getting out,’ I tell him, as we walk with the dogs bounding around our feet.
The rain has stopped and the temperature seems to have dropped, creating a mist that’s curling its way across Gramps’s field.
It’s cold, but totally stunning. The wet grass, heavy with rainfall, is now looking whitewashed in the mist. It’s crisp and sparkling, like a child’s Christmas painting.
The water butts will need checking tonight and I’ll smash any ice in them.
We work our way down the drive towards the front gates. I look across the valley to the right and the tractor tyre marks leading to Myfanwy’s farm.
‘This is Gramps’s field. It’s the best on the farm.
Best for grazing, access and views.’ I’m gazing out over the white-tipped trees down to the road below.
‘My grandparents were tenants here and my dad bought the farm. The chance came up to buy it and he used his and Mum’s wedding fund as a deposit.
She was furious! She’d thought he’d want to leave the place, not stay for ever.
’ I find myself telling Llew all the things I’d planned to tell Matthew when we got here and I was showing him around.
‘Eventually they had a small wedding in town, and all the local farmers pitched in, but I don’t think Mum ever forgave him.
’ It’s strange how comfortable I feel with this complete stranger, but he’s going to help Dad, and I like that very much.
‘In fact, I know she didn’t.’ I give an ironic laugh.
‘She left when I was still in primary school. I came home one day to be told by Dad she’d gone.
It was what she needed to do. We had to understand that.
And that we’d be fine.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Didn’t even wait to tell me herself.’
‘That’s tough.’
I shrug.
‘It’s only now that I’m beginning to realize it,’ I say. But it’s true. I was only seven. ‘But Dad was right. We were fine. I had the best growing up. I loved it here.’
‘And you’ve never thought of moving back?’
‘No,’ I say, and a whole load of emotions stir inside me. ‘No, I haven’t. I have my job, my life. It’s never been on the cards.’
We walk side by side down the stony driveway, the grassy edges crunching under our feet. My pink wellingtons are cracking because they’ve sat too long in the porch.
‘So, what about you? What brings you to Hollybush Farm?’ I say, my lungs filling with fresh air.
I can feel my cheeks turning pink. It’s so different from my job, where I never see the light of day.
I’m either in air-conditioned or centrally heated spaces, with a coffee in one hand and an iPad in the other.
Right now, I’m just here, in the moment.
A robin darts in front of us, the red of his breast vibrant against the white of the grasses and brambles in the mist. I feel as if I’m in a Christmas card, but I’m here, at home, and I wish I’d come back more, done more of this.
It took Dad becoming ill to make me realize.
I remember how I felt when I left, with Dad’s encouragement, to see the world.
I was homesick, but thought I was making him proud as I worked my way up the corporate ladder.
‘Gramps said that if ever I felt homesick I should look up at the stars and know that he, Nan and Dad would be looking up at the same stars. To find the brightest one and know we would all be looking at it together.’
‘That must have been comforting.’
‘It was. To start with, I hated being away. And you?’
‘Left school as soon as I could,’ he says. ‘I didn’t like classrooms. I did my learning outside, on the rugby field. I moved on pretty quick.’
‘Dad didn’t want me to feel trapped here,’ I say, as we walk. I see a listing fence post in Bertie and Harriet’s field and walk towards it. I straighten it, and Llew steps forward to hold it.
‘You sure?’ I say.
‘Yes. All good. Go for it! I’m used to feeling the fear!’ He puts his shoulder to the stake as I swing the long-handled mallet several times to make sure it’s firmly in and straight. Then I test it. Hopefully Bertie and Harriet are safely penned in now.
‘So your dad wanted you to go? To leave here?’
I hit the stake once more with the mallet for good measure. ‘Yup,’ I say, out of puff. ‘He never wanted to be anywhere else. But for Mum, it was like a prison sentence. She wanted out. And she found her way. He never wanted me to feel like that.’
We walk on.
‘Here, I can help,’ he says, as I take hold of another loose fence post.
‘Are you sure?’
He gives a little shrug. ‘Bit stiff still but this is helping,’ he says. ‘Just being out and about.’
‘So, what about you? You weren’t brought up on a farm, then?
’ I ask, as he holds the post and I hit it into the hard ground, making my arms ache.
‘Better than any gym workout,’ I say breathing out plumes of hot air as I let the mallet settle at my side.
He gives the stake a shake and nods, satisfied.
‘No, not farming. Like I say, rugby was my thing from a young age. I was spotted and signed. I went pretty far. Even got capped for the country a couple of times.’
‘Ah, so that’ll be where I’ve seen you, then. And the doctor at the hospital. Dad never misses a game on the telly. Loves his rugby. He’d go to the pub in the past, but I think he stays at home on his own now to watch it.’
We walk on some more and Dewi chases crisp, crystallizing leaves as the day gets even colder.
‘And are you still playing? Or have you discovered farming is much more your thing?’
He shakes his head. ‘No, not playing. I had an injury.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say, the cold nipping at my cheeks.
‘It was just bad luck. A fracture in my back.’
‘On the field?’
‘I fell from a ladder. We were getting ready for a party at home and my wife wanted bunting put up. I slipped and fell, broke my back and didn’t play again.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘It’s why I didn’t argue when you suggested getting checked out yesterday at the hospital. Just to keep an eye on things.’
‘And your wife? Did you need to call her?’
‘Like I said at the hospital, we’re not together any more.’
‘Ah, yes …’
I stand at the top of Gramps’s field and look out. ‘It must have been hard, giving up something you love.’
He nods. ‘It was. And the whole social-media thing got to me. Lots of people commenting on me, how I played. I just … lost confidence. Never went back to it. Just fell out of love with the game. And social media.’
‘I’ll get that gate back on.’ I jerk a thumb at it, next to the car, which is crumpled against the wall.
I can’t help thinking again that either of us could have ended up in the river.
I shudder. I’m suddenly very grateful to be here, on the farm, a place I love, with my dad.
Work, with the hustle and bustle of the run-up to Christmas in the big hotel, seems very far away. I can breathe here, really breathe.
‘I can help,’ he says.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt your back.’
‘It’s fine. Doctor wasn’t worried. This is just lifting the gate onto its hinges.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
Between us, we lift the gate and gently put it back on its hinges, and while we’re there, we fix the listing farm sign so it hangs straight now.
I stand and stare at it, with the pride I know Dad feels for this place. I couldn’t be happier that he is going to have someone working with him again, keeping the farm going.
‘Thanks. I should probably head back and check on Dad,’ I say, feeling I could stand here all day right now.
‘Yes, of course. And thank you. Good to get out and get moving.’
‘You’re welcome. And don’t feel you have to rush off. Get your car sorted.’
‘Thank you. I will.’ He looks at me and, for just a moment, there’s that spark again, just a zip to and fro between us. But it’s more than that. It was good to share this walk with someone. Just like I’d hoped to do with Matthew.
‘I’ll head to the feed shed. That one up there, is it?’ He points to the top of the drive, above the yard.
I smile. ‘Best service around here,’ I say. ‘Serves as a useful little office. And if you get cold, there’s some sheepskin rugs you can sit on, or whatever. Help yourself to tea from the farmhouse if you want it.’
He waves his phone at me and heads towards it.
I stand and breathe it all in, just a little longer, enjoying the peace.
I stroke Ffion’s head as she sits beside me looking out over the flock on the lower field, ever vigilant, always there. And I’m so glad she was here for Dad when he fell ill, and when I go back to work, she’ll be his companion, with Llew Griffiths to help. I smile.
‘It’s all going to be okay, Ffi,’ I say, hearing Dad’s voice all those years ago, reassuring me. Because it is.