Chapter 19 #2
Myfanwy slides through the door and joins Dad by the fire. They nod at each other, stiffly at first.
‘Best bit of excitement around here in ages,’ he says, and she can’t help smiling back, despite their past hostilities.
‘We need to work out a plan for how to get the bosses to meet our demands,’ I say. ‘If this place goes, who’s next? Maybe Hollybush Farm.’
‘Well, we should let everyone know what you’re doing,’ says Myfanwy.
‘No point in us being here if no one knows about it,’ says Dad. ‘Open the blinds. Let people know we’re staging a sit-in.’
‘He’s right,’ says Owen. ‘No point in putting on a protest that no one knows about.’
We step forward and open the blinds.
A group of schoolkids goes past and gives us a little cheer.
We wave.
‘I’ll take some cawl to Twm Bach,’ I say.
‘I’ll go,’ says Owen. ‘You work out how to let people know you’re here, and why. You’re more use here.’
‘Thanks, Owen,’ I say, as he takes the bowl, with a chunk of bread and butter, and makes for the back door, where there’s a knock.
‘It’s me, Evie.’
I open the door a crack. ‘Are you on your own?’
‘Yes! Of course!’
‘What’s the password?’ Dad chortles.
’Twenty-four days until Christmas,’ she replies, and slips inside.
‘Excellent,’ I hear Dad say.
‘Still the joker, Edwin,’ I hear Myfanwy say, but there’s a definite softening to her tone.
It makes me smile. I’d like Dad to find happiness, like I’ve done. Something in me jolts: the happiness isn’t where it should be. It’s being here. I need to speak to Matthew. I need to tell him how I’m feeling, what’s going on. I can’t put this off much longer. I need to listen to my heart.
Evie has taken off her coat. ‘I’ve just come from your farm. I was looking for the patient. And here you are!’ she says, smiling at Dad.
‘Found me!’ He grins naughtily. ‘Guilty as charged!’
‘Well, I had a good idea where you might be. I spent a few lovely minutes with your sheepdog and the pup.’
‘Not such a good guard dog, then.’ He chuckles, shoulders shaking.
‘Okay if I do your blood pressure?’
‘Work away,’ he says. ‘But I’m having another of Myfanwy’s Welsh cakes. You’d better try one, just to make sure she hasn’t come here to poison me. She’s had it in for me for years.’
‘I’d have done it a long time ago if I’d known it was as easy as plying him with Welsh cakes and bara brith!
’ She laughs and the friction between them seems to disappear, all those years of not speaking wiped away over a tin of Welsh cakes.
‘How about a cup of tea to go with it?’ says Myfanwy to Evie, standing and picking up the kettle.
‘You couldn’t do my blood pressure too, while we’re here?
I’ve been meaning to go for a check-up, but what with trying to keep on top of things at the farm and trying to get an appointment at the surgery, I’ve been putting it off. ’
‘Of course,’ says Evie.
‘Smashing,’ says Dad, and I can see the old Dad coming back to life right in front of me.
‘It’s amazing what a cup of tea and some company can do,’ says Evie, with a little wink.
‘And the Welsh cakes. Don’t forget Myfanwy’s Welsh cakes!’ Dad laughs. ‘Can’t believe how good they are. I’d have given her Bertie years ago if I’d known she made Welsh cakes like these.’
‘Well, I’ve no one to make them for now the kids have gone,’ she says. ‘It’s nice to have people to cook for again.’
‘Oh, and your mum messaged me, Mae,’ says Evie. ‘She said she’d baked some jacket potatoes in case you got hungry. I picked them up. The boys send kisses and said you’re Superwoman.’ She’s holding a tray of foil-wrapped potatoes.
‘Those could feed an army!’ I laugh. ‘At least we won’t starve. And I’ve brought cawl.’
People pass the window and wave as we drink tea. But, really, I’m not sure what good we’re doing here.
We watch as Owen appears and makes his way round to the back. Evie opens the door to him.
‘Twm Bach says the cawl was fantastic!’ He’s brought back the empty bowl. ‘And he can’t wait to see what you’re going to put on your social-media feed next.’
‘What’s this?’ Dad asks.
‘Old boy Twm said that?’ I ask.
‘He’s been following you.’
I look at Evie, then at Dad.
‘What’s this about social feeding?’ asks Dad.
‘Social media, Dad. I’ve been putting up some posts about farm life with the sheep. Saying how cross it makes me that it’s a hard, lonely job and barely makes a living.’
He scoffs. ‘You can say that again.’
‘Anyway, people like seeing the farm and I feel less alone when I’m out there.’
He raises his eyebrows. ‘And it’s going well?’
‘It is. You don’t mind, do you?’
He beams. ‘Of course not, especially if it gets the word out.’
‘They call her the Social Shepherdess!’ Mae joins in.
‘And other cool names too. Got loads of followers, she has,’ says Evie.
‘Well, that’s good! Best get socializing now, then!’ says Dad.
‘What?’
‘Well, as I said before, what’s the point of doing this sit-in if no one knows about it?’
‘He’s right. The way to get the new owners to hear us is to make a noise,’ Mae says.
I said to Matthew I wouldn’t do any more. But somehow I can’t stop myself. After all, this is the way to be heard now. ‘Well, social media is a way to get the word out there. Look at the response I’ve had to my last couple of posts.’
‘Tell ’em what’s going on, there’s a good girl,’ says Dad.
I take a deep breath, hold up my phone and press ‘live’.
‘It’s not just the farmers who are finding it hard, but hospitality businesses.
Pubs and restaurants are shutting, it’s just over three weeks until Christmas and there’s no Christmas spirit for these workers!
The only bank they’ll be visiting is the food bank!
Where have we got to when we can’t produce the food to feed our families any more?
This café needs to stay open, for its workers and the community, who come here to see people and get a hot meal.
We need to support our farmers and those working in hospitality.
Oh, and if you’re in the area, and you’re looking for hot jacket potatoes, come to the café, let us know the password – how many days until Christmas – and you’ll be served! ’
I stare into the screen, hit ‘send’ and lower the phone.
‘Well done, girl!’ says Dad, proud as Punch with a tear in his eye, and the others burst into applause.
My phone rings. It’s head office.