Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Exceedingly early the next morning, up at High Meadow, the sky blushed with the first streaks of dawn.
A light mist still clung to the lower fields, and the dew on the grass soaked through Rita’s trainers as she twisted her hair into a knot and secured it with an old elastic band she’d found in her jeans pocket.
She really must get to the hairdresser’s but there was just too much to do at the moment and despite Hilda’s ‘danger money’, she still classed having her hair done as a luxury item.
Birdsong drifted lazily from the Singing Tree, and somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnied. The girls and the chickens had been delighted at their early feed. After a quick walk, Henry had gone back to his bed in front of the Aga, where Rita had left him snoring.
Stan ambled into view, a roll of guy ropes slung over one shoulder like a reluctant Scout leader. His face was already pink from the short walk from his Land Rover.
‘Jago can’t make it today,’ he puffed.
Rita stifled a yawn and tried not to let the disappointment show, but it landed anyway. ‘Oh,’ she muttered, keeping her eyes on the mallet she’d just picked up. ‘Well, we’ll just have to manage, the pair of us, Stan, won’t we?’
She looked ahead to the work they had achieved the day before, willing herself to focus. She had always hated the manual side of the farm work, in fact, rarely did it. But the resort was her baby, and she wanted it to succeed, not just for financial purposes but for own sense of purpose too.
Just then, the thud of footsteps on damp earth caught her ear, and she glanced up to see Teo jogging over the crest of the hill, grinning, a half-eaten banana in one hand.
He wore a sleeveless T-shirt and his well-fitted European shorts again.
His tanned skin glistened with the fresh sheen of effort.
‘Today, we conquer the roof circles, no?’ he declared, arms raised in mock triumph as he approached.
Rita blinked in surprise. ‘Teo? I didn’t expect you here this morning.’
He grinned, taking another bite of banana. ‘Well, nobody brought me breakfast. And I said I would work for that.’ He actioned a theatrical shrug. ‘And the secret to happiness, amiga, is low expectations, so we are all happy, sí?’
He laughed at his own joke with such good-natured charm that even Stan, who rarely smiled before 9 a.m., let out a quiet chuckle.
Rita shook her head, but a reluctant smile tugged at her lips, too. Teo was already worth his weight in gold. Perhaps with him and Zenya now on the payroll she really could manage after all.
By lunchtime, Rita was in the Jimny ready to take lunch supplies to the High Meadow when Zenya, barefoot and muddy-kneed, waved and beckoned her over to the vegetable patch where she’d spent the morning digging and planting.
Rita stood at the edge, hands on hips, her face agog as she squinted slightly in the midday sun. The air was rich with the scent of freshly turned soil and mint. ‘Wow! I can’t believe what you’ve achieved in such a short time.’
Zenya’s face lit up with pride. She brushed a loose curl from her forehead, leaving a smudge of earth on her cheek.
‘I’ve enjoyed every second. We’ve got courgettes, cucumbers, and tomatoes in the greenhouse, and beetroot, lettuce, and radishes in the ground.
I thought a herb garden would be sweet, too, nothing fancy, just the basics.
Plus, I love green beans. And runner beans.
I just need to find some sticks for these. ’
‘Look in Archie’s workroom, blue door.’ Rita pointed towards the courtyard. ‘You’ll probably find everything you need in there. That’s where the tools were, right?’
‘Yep. Brilliant, thanks! We need to find a piece of glass from somewhere and I’ll fix the pane in the greenhouse too.’ Zenya wiped her hands on her jeans and glanced towards the far end of the meadow. ‘And are you sure you don’t need any help up there with the yurts?’
‘No, honestly, you doing this is more than enough.’ Rita smiled and leaned against the fence. ‘I’ll introduce you properly to Teo later too. He seems like such a good lad.’
Zenya raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t you go trying to set me up, Rita Jory. I’m not exactly in the habit of letting anyone in these days, in fact, ever. I’m happy on my own. And aside me not ever having had sexual relations with a man shorter than me, he looks about twelve.’
Rita laughed. ‘Calm down, he’s twenty-five and likes Manuels not Marias, so you’re safe there.’
‘Oh.’ Zenya grinned.
‘Right, onwards and upwards.’ Rita walked towards the Jimny, then turned back. ‘I’m so happy we met, Zenya. I really mean that. And I’m so grateful for what you’ve done here, already; it’s a miracle.’
If it weren’t for the beating sunlight, she was sure that she could see tears in Zenya’s eyes.