Chapter 35
Christmas Day is quiet and sombre as we wait for news of Jess’s operation with the emergency vet. Llew and I check the ewes again.
‘One here is worrying me a bit,’ I say. ‘I think I’ll take her up to the barn, keep an eye on her.’
‘Okay.’
‘Let’s go and get the cattle lorry. I’ll move her in that.’
Llew goes to get his car keys and we head to the cattle market.
The gate is shut and I unlock it. The only evidence of last night’s food-truck festival is the cattle lorry with its lights, bunting and the oil-drum barbecue, clearly too hot to move last night, and a piece of tinsel hanging from the speakers on a pole.
The bins have been emptied and the festoon lighting put away.
Everything is as it was, just covered with a layer of snow.
I think of what this place could have been if we’d managed to get the lease. But it wasn’t to be. There are more important things than potential. There’s living for the here and now. And right now Jess is being prepped for her operation.
I climb up into the lorry’s cab, put the key in and the radio bursts into life with ‘In the Bleak Midwinter’: ‘… if I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb’. Tears spring to my eyes.
Llew follows the truck as we leave the cattle market, lock the gate and drive towards home. I pull up at the cottage where Deborah, the estate agent, was staying. It’s all in darkness. No lights, no dogs, no festive cheer.
‘It looks like life in the countryside at Christmas isn’t for everyone,’ I say to Llew.
‘Certainly isn’t without its ups and downs,’ he says, and kisses me. Right now, I’d like to take him back to bed and stay there, under the eiderdown.
I climb back into the cab and drive to get the ewe that seems under the weather. We guide her into the back of the lorry and take her up to the barn. I make a pen for her there with plenty of fresh straw and water.
‘We’ll be back to check on you soon,’ I say, as we walk towards the farmhouse. The tractor is in the yard; Dad and Myfanwy are in the kitchen.
‘Happy Christmas, love,’ says Dad. ‘Although it won’t be a happy one until we hear news from Owen on Jess,’ he says, saying exactly what we’re all feeling.
‘Happy Christmas, Dad,’ I say, holding him tightly, feeling grateful to be with him, on the farm. ‘Why did I ever want to leave? What on earth did I think I’d find in Seattle that I haven’t got here?’
‘Christmas trees!’ says Dad, laughing.
‘Ah, talking of trees …’ Llew disappears outside and comes back with a small, misshapen object, holding it in one hand. We all burst out laughing.
‘Where did you get that?’
‘At the petrol station at the end of town. Open for two hours for last-minute essentials and gifts, it said on the door. He was just closing. This was the last one.’
‘I’m not surprised!’
‘Ah, don’t say that, you’ll hurt his feelings!’
‘It’s a he?’
‘Yup! He’s called Stewart … Stewart Little. Loved that film!’ says Llew.
‘And how did you bring it here?’
‘In my car!’
‘In your car? The clean and tidy one?’
‘Not any more,’ he says. ‘Mud and pine needles all over it, but it smells nice.’
‘Well, I think that little tree’s adorable,’ says Myfanwy. ‘You going to put him up?’
‘Yes! Will you help?’ I ask.
‘I will, but then I should leave you to your Christmas Day.’
‘Absolutely not!’ Dad and I say at the same time.
‘You’re not going back to an empty house. We’re all here together and that’s how it should be,’ he says firmly.
‘Absolutely!’ I say.
She looks at Dad. ‘I don’t want to be in the way. This was your mum’s home, Jem. I don’t want to step on any toes.’
‘No toes to be stepped on, Myfanwy. Mum made her decision to leave a long time ago. I wish it hadn’t taken me so long to remember this is where I belong.
We can all choose where we want to be and who we want to be with.
Leaving has shown me how much I want to be here.
And how happy I am seeing Dad so happy. If it’s my blessing you want, Myfanwy, you have it. ’
‘I want you here, Myfanwy, because I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself as much as I have, spending time with you of late,’ says Dad. ‘And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to keep doing that. Last night wasn’t just a one-off for me.’
My cheeks burn as I blush.
At first she says nothing, then breaks into a smile.
‘Oh, you silly old fool! Someone’s got to keep an eye on you. And, no, it wasn’t a one-off for me either.’
I give a little cough and try not to let my imagination go there. I’m just glad that they’re happy.
‘Besides, I’m not sure I can remember how to cook a roast dinner. Might need some help.’
‘We’ll all help. We’ll be fine!’ She gives Dad a special smile.
‘Oh, I got you this, love,’ says Dad, handing me a little box. ‘For Christmas.’
‘How? You haven’t been out,’ I say, looking down at the box he’s handed me.
‘I was going to give it to you last night, when it looked like the food-truck market was going to take off.’
I’m intrigued. The box is an old egg box he’s cut and Sellotaped together. Inside, there is a key.
‘It’s a key for the front door of this place. The farm’s yours, Jem love, but only if you want it.’
‘I …’ I don’t know what to say.
‘You’ve got way more ideas than me on what to do with it. But I’ll understand if you don’t want it now.’
‘You’re giving me the farm?’
‘Like I say, I want you to make the decisions for what you think is best for the farm. Your farm. It’s your time. You have ideas aplenty. Not just for this farm, but others too, trying to think of new ways to earn a living. Look at Myfanwy’s order book. It’s bursting!’
Myfanwy agrees, sitting beside Dad and taking his hand.
‘Plenty of ideas,’ I muse, recalling what Llew was saying about it becoming a B-and-B. But it needs work. ‘Just not the money.’ The brown envelope with the contract for solar panels catches my eye on the shelf.
‘You can keep it, sell some of it, or all of it. I’ll agree with whatever you decide.’
‘Well, I got you a scarf, from Evie, and one each for the dogs.’
‘Perfect!’ he says, pulling his from the bag and wrapping it around his neck.
‘You two go and sort out the tree,’ I say to Dad and Myfanwy. ‘I’ll start on the veg.’
I stare out of the window. The snow has stopped falling and is freezing now.
It’s still and silent. I wish I could feel happy about the farm, but all the joy has gone out of the day as I stand at the sink, peeling potatoes, listening to Anneka Rice on Radio 2.
Not even the song about Ernie, with the fastest milk cart in the west, can raise a smile, like it usually would between Dad and me.
Llew is next to me. The bottles of fizz he bought from the shop where he got the tree are still in the fridge.
‘What’s your thinking about your dad giving you the farm? You don’t have to say but I’m not here for any reason except to listen.’
I sigh. ‘Maybe you and Dad were right all along. The only way is to sell Gramps’s field. The solar panels.’
‘Surely there’s another possibility.’
I shrug sadly. ‘The food market might have worked, but now we don’t have the money for that, and the deadline has passed.
The solar panels are the only other solution.
It might give me enough to do this place up, set up a B-and-B like you suggested.
It won’t make a fortune but it will supplement things. ’
‘What if there was another way?’ he says, standing beside me, peeling carrots.
‘Then I’m all ears!’ I say.
‘It’s just I was thinking …’
Suddenly we see the light blue truck coming up the drive. ‘It’s Owen!’
‘That was quick!’ says Llew.
‘Please let it be good news!’ I say, as we run to the door and fling it open. Owen gets out, head down. There is no Jess following him. It seems strange to see him without her. It’s cold, really cold.
Evie gets out of the front passenger seat, pulling her coat around her, looking out on the frozen fields around us.
Owen walks over to me, standing in the open porch. ‘She’s in surgery now. They said to ring at five. Just wondered if we could spend the day here with you, rather than waiting at home.’
‘Of course!’ I say, and fling my arms around him. ‘Come in, both of you.’
‘Hey,’ says Llew. ‘I’d say happy Christmas, but it doesn’t seem right.’
‘No, but happy Christmas anyway!’
We all stand and watch the sky darken out of the window.
Dad comes into the kitchen wearing his scarf and a new hat Myfanwy has given him, with the label still on. ‘Well, being together is what counts,’ he says. ‘Let’s have that glass of something to warm us up.’
‘Agreed. Don’t want to ruin your day. But, like I say, we couldn’t think of anywhere else we’d rather be,’ says Owen, as Llew opens the fridge and hands the bottles to him.
The meat is cooking and the radio is on.
It may not be traditional to have hogget for Christmas dinner, but it is in this house.
We’re a farm and we eat what we produce.
I shudder to think of how cwtch hotels are serving standard lunches, weighed, portioned and priced to bring in the biggest profit, forgetting what this meal is all about.
It’s about being grateful for what we have.
Owen is making a fuss of the dogs in front of the fire when there’s a knock at the door.
I open it. ‘Twm Bach? Come in, you must be freezing!’
I guide him into the little living room that, once again, seems to expand to embrace the amount of people in it.
‘Went out for a walk,’ he says, ‘and found myself coming this way, so I thought I’d see if there’s any news.’
Owen shakes his head. ‘I have to ring at five. But diolch, Twm. The thought is very much appreciated.’
‘Have a drink,’ I say. ‘And happy Christmas. Why aren’t you with the family?’
‘They invited me. But I couldn’t face the journey in this weather. Think it’s going to close in again.’ He looks around at the sky. ‘Brought you some sprouts. Had them growing in the garden. Shame for them to go to waste.’