Chapter 25
The next morning we’re up early. Llew is in the kitchen making tea when I come down. He hands me a mug and has one for himself. ‘Could you do with a helper?’
I take the mug, smiling. ‘What – outside?’ I nod towards the yard.
‘Yes, it’s felt good to be outside recently. Better than life inside a smart car. And I think I did okay with the fences and the gate.’
‘You did! And if you think you’re up for it, that would be great, thank you.’
With head torches on, we head out with the dogs into the yard. There’s a layer of snow over the fields and even the sheep’s backs. We load the feed and hay onto the quad bike. I start its engine. One headlight is still not as bright as the other but better than before.
‘Climb on, then!’ I say. Llew straddles the bike, me sitting at the front with him behind and around me.
I drive us to the field with the feed and a mallet to smash any ice on the water butts.
Llew starts on the ice while I feed and count the ewes.
They seem happy and content, unaffected by yesterday’s visitors careering through the flock.
Unaffected from what I can see, but I’ll have to keep a close eye on them.
Back in the kitchen we get ready to go back into town with the cattle lorry. I don’t want to let Mae down this time. I gather some greenery from the yard, holly, fir and eucalyptus, and pile it into the back of the lorry, then hurry round to the cab.
Once again it lumbers into life, like Bagpuss waking from his slumbers. I get the heaters blowing, then scrape the windscreen clear of snow.
Dad appears in the porch, dressed warmly. He’s even found a Santa hat to wear, and a light-up jumper. The box of Christmas decorations is at his feet.
We drive into town, the cab filling with the smell of the eucalyptus and fir, blown around by the heater, reminding me of Christmases with a real tree in the living room.
I can’t remember the presents, but I do remember the smell of the tree, and homemade hogget stock on the range.
Nan would be prepping vegetables grown by Gramps.
We arrive at the old cattle market and pull up. Dad is looking around, memories flooding back to him, and even a sentimental tear in his eye. ‘Good to be here, eh, Dad?’
He nods. ‘Very good to see the place being used again.’
Llew jumps out of the cab, opens the gate and secures it, waving me in.
I roll down the window and call, ‘You look like you’ve done that before,’ as he waves us onto the yard, leaving tyre marks in the snow, and points to the perfect place for the lorry: we can be seen from the road, but will be sheltered from the cold wind whipping through.
It’s like a ghost market: you can picture the farmers leaning on the pens, inspecting the livestock, the air full of expectation and conversation.
But with the market gone, it’s like the town and community went with it.
We open the back of the lorry, let the ramp down and set up straw bales for seating. Owen arrives in his truck, with Jess poking her head out of the passenger window. ‘Brought the generator. Thought it could help with lighting.’
‘Brilliant!’ I say, coming down the ramp.
‘Like we used to do at Young Farmers’ camps.’ He smiles. ‘And I’ve brought the old oil-drum barbecue! It was still in the shed there, round the back.’ He points to the old building where we used to have our weekly Young Farmers get-togethers, overgrown and barely used now.
‘I knew doing those events would come in handy.’ I laugh.
‘You used to love being in charge of them.’ He laughs too. ‘Getting us all organized, sorting out what we were eating …’
‘Mostly undercooked sausages and vodka shots.’
‘They were good days,’ says Owen.
‘They were,’ I agree.
‘Brilliant! A barbecue!’ says Llew, appearing from the back of the lorry. ‘Hey, Owen!’
‘Hi.’ He holds up a hand. ‘Fancy helping me to get this going?’
‘And, Dad, can you help me with some fairy lights in here? We can put up some greenery and weave fairy lights through it, around the entrance.’
‘On it,’ he calls back. ‘This feels so good. As Owen says, like old times.’
We hang multicoloured fairy lights across the ceiling of the lorry and round the door, and put up a cork board Evie has made, listing what we serve: jacket potatoes with various fillings, cawl and bread.
‘I suppose I’d better let people know where we are. Anyone seen Mae?’
We shake our heads.
‘You don’t think she’s got cold feet, do you?’ Evie asks.
I check my phone to see if she’s messaged, just as Mae arrives, out of breath and red in the face. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she pants. ‘Sorry, had to stop at the school to take in PE kit that Corey forgot. But you’re not going to believe what I saw on the way here! How did you get in?’
‘The gate was open. Llew just pushed it back.’ I smile at him. ‘Have you got the jacket spuds?’ I ask.
‘Yup, here.’ This time she’s carrying them in a washing basket with a Thomas the Tank Engine duvet.
‘Great!’ I say, then frown. ‘So what’s got you hot under the collar?’
‘Look.’ She pulls out her phone and shows me the screen. I frown some more.
‘That’s Beti’s Café!’
‘Yes!’ she says. ‘Now part of the Coffi Poeth group.’
‘Ah …’ I muse. ‘I know them. They’re popping up everywhere. Well, it’s looking smart, I’ll say that.’ The new signage is much like that in their other stores. ‘Looks like Beti’s Formica is out.’
‘But their prices. So expensive! And they’re going to do specials … jacket potatoes and Welsh specialities. They’ve stolen our ideas.’
I screw up my eyes and try to read the story on Instagram.
‘What?’
‘“New additions to our menu!”’
Llew is reading it over my shoulder and, despite the seriousness of what Mae’s saying, I’m enjoying the closeness of him being there. ‘Stealing your idea and rolling it out as their own. Looks like you’ve got competition,’ says Llew.
I take a huge breath.
‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ Mae says. She shoves her phone into her pocket and puts down the washing basket of potatoes in the lorry.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask. ‘We should get ready to open.’
‘I’m not going to be made an idiot of any more!’ She marches out of the cattle market towards the high street and the café.
‘No, Mae,’ I call after her, into the sharp wind. ‘Let’s just show them we were here first!’ But she’s not listening and is set on confronting them.
Josh is there, talking to people carrying in new furniture from a big truck. It’s exactly the same as the furniture in their other shops.
‘Hey!’ she calls. ‘Hey!’ Owen, Evie, Llew and I are all behind her, at a distance, with no idea how to help.
‘Is that it? You just wanted to talk to me to find out what sells well? Try the potatoes and see how much people like them. Is that why you got us to open the lorry outside the café? Were we product-testing for you? You thought you’d see how much business we could rustle up, then steal our ideas and customers!
’ she shouts, as she stalks up to him, ignoring the driver trying to get a signature for safe delivery of goods.
He sensibly steps two paces back from Mae and her wrath.
‘No.’ Josh holds up his hands. ‘It was quite the opposite. I was trying to tell my bosses what a great job you’d been doing here.
I told them about you and how they needed to keep you on.
I showed the pictures of the queues the two of you had rustled up and how people were talking about your food on social media. I didn’t mean any of this to happen.’
Mae looks at the menu on the door of the café. ‘New specials coming to Coffi Poeth, jacket potatoes with a variety of fillings.’ She turns back to him. ‘Well, all you’ve done is nicked my idea.’
‘I’m sorry. Your idea was excellent, to serve a brilliant fast food that’s healthier, more filling and easy to make. I was trying to bring some ideas to the table. Stand out a bit, I suppose.’
‘And? Did you?’ Mae asks crossly.
He hesitates. ‘Well, they were impressed. They think it’s a big thing. They saw the social-media feed.’
‘And?’
‘And’ – he swallows – ‘they want to roll it out in their other cafés.’
‘So, I’ve been thrown out of my job. You encouraged me to showcase what I’ve been selling out here on the street and now your bosses want a piece of the action. I suppose you got a nice Christmas bonus for suggesting it!’
He bites his bottom lip. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I really didn’t. I thought if I told them how well you were doing, they’d want to keep you on and not lose you. I was impressed. I wanted to help.’
‘But you didn’t, did you?’ She puts her hands higher on her hips.
He slowly shakes his head.
‘They like the idea.’ He meets her gaze. ‘But say they can save a lot by not employing anyone until they’re ready to open in the new year.’
For a moment Mae drops her eyes and says nothing, then slowly raises her head and her chin. Her face is furious. None of us moves.
‘Urghhhh!’ She lets out a roar of frustration, leans forward and stamps on his toe. ‘Not sorry!’ she says, and storms past us towards the old cattle market.
I stand, mouth open. Definitely not Mousy Mae any more. ‘Mae, wait,’ I call, and catch her up. ‘You okay?’
‘No, I’m furious!’
I hurry to keep up with her. ‘There’s not a lot we can do about them.’
‘Well, we’ll just have to sell more than they do!’ she shouts. ‘And make sure no one wants to go there when they open.’
‘Mae!’ I say, trying to keep up with her.
‘We need to make sure that we sell shedloads. Let everyone know where we are, and that we were here first!’ she says.
‘I agree. Bigger and better. Festive too. Let’s do it!’ I say. I’m a little excited and sad at the same time: what I thought might be the start of a lovely friendship, or even more than that, for Mae has been blown out of the water.