Chapter 2
Nick Saint ran a hand through his hair and tried not to give away just how stressed he felt by the bombshell his sister, Annabelle, had just dropped.
Busying himself with rearranging, for the fifth time, the locally cooked Christmas puddings and mince pies that had just arrived from Evie Brown’s artisan bakery in the nearby village of Everscombe, he plastered what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his face and turned around to give Annabelle its benefit.
‘Wow,’ he said, summoning as much enthusiasm as he could. ‘A second honeymoon? That sounds amazing, Annie. And a dream destination, too.’
‘It’s been a bit of a surprise,’ Annabelle replied.
Nick noticed that she was playing nervously with the tie on the front of her apron.
His sister had lost a lot of weight recently and could now wrap the apron cords around herself twice.
He wondered if their father’s comment about her being a ‘Somerset apple dumpling’ had hit home a little too hard.
Annabelle had always been touchy about her weight.
‘But a lovely one,’ Nick prompted. ‘I mean, it’ll be good for the two of you to get away.
After… everything.’ Nick kicked himself as he saw Annabelle blinking away sudden tears.
He should have known better than to allude to the miscarriage back in the summer that she and her husband, Jamie, were still mourning.
It had been late, at twenty weeks, and only discovered at the scan.
‘I know.’ Annabelle’s face was brightly determined not to give in to another round of tears, he could tell. ‘Jamie reckons we need a change of scene, and a chance to relax. And it was a proper deal, too, as it was so last minute. I’ve barely had the chance to think about what to pack.’
‘When do you fly?’
‘At some ungodly hour on Monday morning,’ Annabelle replied.
‘Thank goodness the passports haven’t expired!
’ She gave her brother a brief smile, before moving around from where she was standing behind the counter of the farm shop they jointly ran, under the managerial eye of their father, Robert.
Nick met her gaze as she looked up at him, and a silent understanding passed between them.
Stepping forward, he wrapped his arms around her in a quick hug.
‘You’ll have a great time,’ Nick murmured as he released her. ‘And don’t worry about this place – we’ll muddle through.’
‘Are you sure?’ Annabelle replied. ‘I mean, it’s not like it’s not busy enough in the normal run up to Christmas, and now, with this extra thing…’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ Nick said quickly, although his own thought processes had been sprinting that way ever since Annabelle had told him the news. ‘Dad and I have got it covered, and if the worst comes to the worst, we’ll get someone from the agency in.’
‘Don’t you remember what happened last time we did that?’ Annabelle grimaced. ‘You spent most of your time re-balancing the till because the guy they sent couldn’t add up, even when the till did it for him! And don’t get me started on what he did with the sausages!’
Nick laughed. ‘I’ll make sure whoever we get will be somewhat more experienced than him, I promise.’
‘Thanks, Nick.’ Annabelle smiled again. ‘I appreciate it, and you, you know.’
‘What are little brothers for?’ Nick smiled back.
Annabelle was only eighteen months older than him, but sometimes it felt like eighteen years.
She’d always been the responsible one, and he wasn’t about to begrudge her a Caribbean holiday when she’d been working so hard for so long to make Saints’ Farm Shop the success it was becoming.
As a younger man, Nick had thought his future had been mapped out.
He’d felt unstoppable, invincible, as though he could handle anything.
He’d been set for a degree at the same agricultural college he’d done his post-sixteen qualifications at and spent most of his time either on a tractor in the fields or haring around the country lanes, and although he planned, eventually, to take over the farm, the next three years would be more of the same, academically and socially.
Then Robert Saint had had a heart attack at forty-seven years old and Nick’s life had changed.
Although his dad had made a full recovery, his sudden illness made a difference to the family.
Nick had chosen to help take over the family business with his sister, early, which, back then had been a larger farm and a smaller shop, gradually streamlining things until Saints’ Farm was a more commercial enterprise.
It was still a hard slog, and even though the majority of what they now sold came from other suppliers, Robert still kept his hand in on the agricultural side.
As a result of Robert Saint’s illness, the family farm had become more of a large market garden over the years, but they had made more money out of it.
Nick had taken the reins at eighteen, with Annabelle, and they’d spent over a decade and a half working together, realising the full potential of what had been a gently dying family farm.
Robert, who still missed the vast swathes of land that the family once owned, was still involved in the business, on the managerial side but, much to the relief of his wife, didn’t have the day-to-day stress of keeping things going.
What the family had lost in acres, they’d gained in quality of life, and Nick was grateful for that.
All the same, he wondered what might have been if his father hadn’t been forced to downscale the farm.
Would he, himself have taken it on by now, and would Annabelle have made different life choices?
The farm was in their blood, but she’d always harboured dreams of city life, at least for a few years.
Now they were both firmly tethered to Lower Brambleton, and it looked as though that wasn’t going to change.
Not that he minded. Much. At thirty-seven, however, he knew time was marching on, and he’d been rooted here for decades.
He’d had a few relationships over the years, but nothing that had persuaded him to take the final plunge and settle down, as Annabelle and her husband, Jamie, had.
He often joked that he was married to the business, but as time went on, that was beginning to feel like less of a joke.
The trill of the shop’s doorbell, signalling the arrival of a customer, snapped them both back to the more pressing issues of the day’s trade.
The shop was quiet for a Wednesday afternoon, and Nick was just about to head out the back to do an inventory on the non-perishable goods that he’d been putting off for about a week.
However, when he saw the figure coming through the door, he decided the back-room stuff could wait a little longer.
‘All right, but only a small one.’ The boy dashed off to the sweet treats section at the back of the shop, and Thea Ashcombe glanced after him, before approaching the counter.
Nick smiled at her, as he always did. Seeing Thea always made him feel brighter.
They’d been friends for years and had known each other since they were kids.
Although time had interceded and they didn’t spend as much time together as they had when they had been part of the same friendship group at school, Nick was fond of Thea and his day always felt as though it improved when he saw her.
‘Hi Thea,’ he remembered to say as she approached. ‘How are you?’
‘Not bad, thanks,’ Thea replied, but, to Nick, who’d known her for almost the whole of his life, the brief grin that she gave him in return seemed a little forced.
‘Lovely afternoon,’ Nick continued. ‘Not much sunshine around this time of year, and it’s always nice when it does break through.’
‘Hmm,’ Thea replied. She seemed a bit distracted.
‘So, what can I do for you?’ Nick asked. ‘Can I tempt you to a pack of mince pies? Fresh in today from our local supplier.’
Thea shook her head vigorously. ‘Er, no, thanks,’ she replied. ‘I don’t think I’m quite ready to feel the Christmas spirit just yet.’
‘Fair enough.’ Nick smiled. ‘How about a free sample, then? I was just about to open up the packet to tempt a few impulse buys!’
Thea did, at least, smile then. There was something about her expression that concerned Nick, and he found himself wanting to keep her smiling.
If a freebie mince pie was what it took, then it seemed a small price to pay.
He and Thea had been gradually renewing their friendship since she’d moved back to Lower Brambleton a couple of years ago, but their paths didn’t tend to cross much.
She was busy with school and her own children, and he was kept equally frantic with the demands of the farm shop.
Whenever he saw her, though, he felt a warm glow of pleasure.
It was always good to reconnect with people you’d grown up with.
‘Oh, go on then,’ she replied. ‘Lunch was a bit of a rush, so it’ll be a nice treat.’
‘Too busy at school?’ Nick asked. He knew how hard Thea worked at the primary school where she taught, and he always marvelled at how she had the patience.
Some of the children who came into the shop didn’t seem to have very many boundaries, and he’d often had to clean up the mess when little hands grabbed things from shelves.
He held a healthy respect for anyone who could spend their working life with children, as well as having their own.
‘It’s a hectic time of year.’ She reached for a mince pie from the packet Nick was holding, and he felt a little jolt as their fingers touched.
‘That’s amazing. Your supplier’s got a wonderful way with shortcrust pastry.
’ Nick watched the colour infuse her cheeks as she realised she was talking with her mouth full, and he felt his own cheeks flushing slightly when he realised he was looking directly at her.
Just then, Dylan approached the counter with a cellophane wrapped packet of marshmallows. ‘Can I have these, Mum?’
‘Not today, darling. How about a packet of crisps instead?’
‘I want something sweet,’ Dylan insisted. ‘Pleeeease…?’
Nick watched Thea suppress a sigh. ‘Oh, all right then. But you’ll have to share them with your sister.’
‘Thanks, Mum!’ Dylan gave a gap-toothed grin.
Thea finished the mince pie and turned back to the counter. She looked a little unsure of herself again, and Nick wondered why.
‘Is there something else I can help you with?’ he asked.
‘Well, yes, actually,’ Thea replied. ‘I, er, I haven’t done this before, but there’s this app… Too Good To Throw? You guys have just registered on it, and I’ve reserved a Throw Bag?’
Nick tried to hide his surprise. Thea hadn’t ever struck him as the penny-pinching type. Then, he checked himself – just because someone took advantage of a good offer on an app, didn’t give him the right to judge.
‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Bear with me – we put the bags together about an hour ago and they’re just out the back.
I’ll pop and get you one.’ He hurried out to the area beyond the shop floor where there were six Saints’ Farm carrier bags already assembled and being kept cool in one of the fridges.
He’d put them together himself, and all had a selection of chilled and baked goods that were expiring today.
Glancing inside the bags, he looked for the one that had an extra Chelsea Bun in it – there’d been one spare, and rather than pinch it himself for after dinner, he’d shoved it into a bag.
There were three in the bag in total, as well as a bottle of milk, a loaf of bread and a couple of swedes, again from a local organic farm.
On impulse, he grabbed a box of the mince pies and popped them in, too.
His dad wouldn’t approve of the freebie, but he wanted to give Thea another reason to smile.
She looked as though she needed one. As he brought the bag back through to the counter, he wondered what was on her mind.
‘Here you go,’ Nick said, putting the bag with the marshmallows.
As he rung up the discounted price, he noticed the pint of milk Thea had nipped off and got while she’d been waiting.
‘No need for that, unless you’re going to be using a lot over the next couple of days,’ he added.
‘There’s a four-pint bottle in the bag.’
‘Oh, that’s lucky.’ Thea smiled more convincingly this time. ‘I, er, I only popped in for milk, really, but the Throw Bag seemed like a great idea.’
‘Well, I hope you can make use of what’s in there,’ Nick replied. ‘I hope you like swede!’
Thea grinned. ‘Funnily enough, I suspected there might be one in the bag. I’ll have to look up some recipes.’
‘Well, let me know how it turns out.’ Nick smiled back at her. ‘See you soon.’
As Thea turned to leave, Dylan was already reaching for the marshmallows, and Nick couldn’t resist another grin. He remembered how his mother used to tell him he ate the family out of house and home when he was that age, and it seemed as though Dylan was going through the same stage.
‘I’m going to start bringing in the baskets from the front,’ he called to Annabelle as he caught sight of her out the back. ‘It’s already getting dark.’
‘OK,’ Annabelle called back.
Nick sauntered to the front door and towards the baskets of fruit and veg on the far left of the shop’s generous frontage.
It was a job that kept him fit, bringing them out and then back in again every evening, so he couldn’t really complain about it.
And if anyone needed an emergency sack of spuds before closing, they were just inside the front door.
The car park was empty apart from Thea’s Volvo, and Nick found his eyes drawn to her as she put the shopping in the boot and then slid into the driver’s seat.
Hefting a basket of carrots off the wooden units that sat outside the shop, he brought it inside and then walked briskly back to collect the next one.
He noticed that Thea was still sitting in the car but assumed that she was talking to Dylan.
He grabbed the next basket of veg and stacked it carefully on top of the first one.
On his third trip outside, he looked briefly towards Thea’s car again.
She still hadn’t moved. Perhaps she was checking her phone before she left?
By the fourth trip to the front of the shop, he wasn’t so sure.
When he chanced another glance towards her, he noticed a look of upset and frustration on her face and watched as she hit the steering wheel with her right hand.
Shaking her head at Dylan, she appeared to be trying to turn the ignition key, but the Volvo’s engine just spluttered and died, rather than firing into life.
As she got back out of the car, he could clearly see how worried she looked.