Chapter 13
13
Before I could recover myself, a plump woman with a flyaway silver bob hustled over, handing Gabe a platter of raw burgers.
‘The pot sausage is all ready to go.’ She slid her arms around Pip’s waist and gave him a squeeze. ‘I’m still pinching myself that you’re home.’
‘You’d think I’d been off into space, not an hour’s flight away. I was always going to come back after two years. You know the main reason I went was to help the farm.’
‘The mainland has a habit of convincing people to change their plans. And it doesn’t matter how far you go; I can never quite settle when one of my children is off the island.’
‘Well, I’m here now, so you can relax and enjoy the party. This is Emmie, who makes the pasties. She happened to be visiting, so Lily invited her along. Emmie, this is my ma, Rosemary.’
‘I didn’t know you knew Lily.’ Rosemary gave a surprised smile as she unwound her arms from Pip and shook my hand.
I let Pip explain how I’d ended up at Sunflower Barn, Gabe’s revelation still reverberating through my head.
He’d started transferring the burgers onto the barbecue, but while I watched him, he glanced up at me, the intensity in his eyes removing any trace of doubt that I’d stumbled upon the G from the letters. I tried to recollect the photograph, and while I couldn’t be sure it was him, it certainly could be. Gabe was tall like his son, his frame wiry. His face had that tanned, craggy look resulting from a life spent outdoors in the elements. He had a thick beard, trimmed with grey, and the deep lines around his eyes implied he smiled often.
Once the burgers were sizzling away, Gabe called over to a man sitting alone at a table. ‘Richard, would you mind watching the food for a few minutes?’
That confirmed it – G had spoken about a Richard in one of the letters.
Richard shook his head in resignation, but picked up a crutch with each hand and hauled himself up. In contrast to most of the men, who wore smart shorts or cotton trousers and shirts, Richard wore tatty brown cords and a beige T-shirt. He was broader than his brother, his beard more scraggly, but had the same piercing eyes.
‘Emmie, would you like another drink?’ Gabe asked, the faintest tremble of nerves lurking behind his question.
‘Yes, please.’
‘I’ll fetch it,’ Rosemary offered.
‘No, my love. You’ve got enough to do. And my brother has far too little. Let him do this for me.’
I don’t know how I made it to the drinks table. Avoiding the alcohol, I took the nearest soft drink. Gabe grabbed a bottle of beer, but instead of returning to the barbecue, gestured with his head towards a pond in the corner of the garden.
Neither of us spoke until he’d stopped by a bench and we sat down.
‘You’re related to her, aren’t you?’ Gabe asked, his voice soft enough not to be overheard. ‘If the resemblance hadn’t given it away, your reaction would have.’
‘I’m her daughter.’ I took a sip of lemonade, hoping it might ease the nausea threatening to rise up the back of my throat.
Gabe nodded. ‘I thought you must be. Although, I’m somewhat stunned. She was always so adamant she never wanted a child. I mean… no offence. She clearly changed her mind.’
‘No, you’re right. She didn’t, really. But then, I arrived, and she was never going to shy away from her responsibility.’
‘That’s true.’ He glanced at me. ‘If I may ask… how is Nellie?’
‘She died almost two years ago.’
Gabe fell against the back of the bench, his face appearing to fold in on itself for a few seconds, before he straightened up, rubbing a hand over his beard.
‘Do you mind telling me what happened?’
‘It was sudden. A brain embolism.’
‘I’m so very sorry. That must have been tremendously difficult.’
I swallowed hard, remembering the constant ache of raw grief.
‘How did you know her? I… I found some letters. From a G.’
Gabe blinked a few times. ‘I can’t believe she kept them.’ He shook his head. ‘But yes, they were from me. They will explain better than I ever could who we were to each other.’
‘I’ve only read the first three. I won’t keep going if you’d rather I didn’t.’
He dropped his gaze to the pond, clearly deep in memories. A school of tadpoles were trying out their new legs, wriggling amongst the water weeds.
‘Did she tell you about me?’
‘She never spoke about her past, or her family. I don’t even know if she had any real friends.’
‘That must be hard, if it’s just you now.’
I nodded. ‘That’s partly why I came. Not to dig up anything, but I thought being here might help me process some of it.’
It seemed a ridiculous coincidence that I’d stumbled across G on my first full day here. But there were three thousand people on this island, narrow that down to the right age and gender, and how many of them were farmers, and it would probably be more unlikely for me not to bump into Mum’s mystery man at some point.
‘Did you know she named her business Parsley’s?’
Gabe looked at me blankly.
‘It was the name of your bull. You mentioned it in the first letter.’
He furrowed his brow. ‘Parsley? I should remember that. It sounds about right, though. We’ve always named them after herbs and such. I’d never have guessed, given what happened.’
‘Oh?’
‘Read the letters. They should fill in some gaps. And if you call in another day, I’ll find the ones she sent in return.’
‘She wrote back?’
His mouth twitched. ‘Not half as often as I wrote to her. But there’s one or two.’
‘That’s so kind of you. Thank you.’
‘One more thing, if you’d be so kind.’ He stood up, slowly. ‘Would you mind not mentioning to anyone what you read there? Especially Rosemary or my children. This is a close community, with long memories. It wasn’t an easy time for my family, and I don’t want to dredge up old pain.’
‘Do you think anyone else will recognise who I am?’
We started slowly walking back to where people were now serving up dishes of food.
‘If my mother was much younger, then possibly, but her memory’s not so good these days. And no one else will have known Nellie’s face like I did.’
‘Do you still think about her?’
He gave me a rueful flick of his eyebrows. ‘Read the letters.’
We joined the disorderly queue loading up with food. Pot sausage, it turned out, was hot-dog sausages smothered in fried onions and peppers and a smoky home-made ketchup, topped with a layer of crispy sliced potatoes and melted cheese. I helped myself to a generous spoonful and added some salad and a piece of fish, which Gabe insisted I sample due to it having been freshly caught that morning by his neighbour.
‘Come and sit with Mammaw.’ Pip was waiting at the end of the buffet to lead me to a round table positioned in the shade of the house. Richard was there, along with a couple who introduced themselves as Iris’s fiancé, Hugh’s parents, and the ninety-one-year-old grandmother.
‘Mammaw, this is Emmie, who makes the pasties,’ Pip said. ‘Remember I told you she’s here on holiday?’
‘I certainly do remember,’ she replied, her accent so strong, I had to concentrate to decipher the words. Despite her age, she appeared at least as tall as her granddaughters, with straight shoulders beneath a woollen cardigan and a determined tilt to her pointy chin. ‘But did I forget you describing what a looker she is?’
Pip winced. ‘No, I didn’t happen to mention that.’
‘You seem familiar.’ She craned forwards to where I’d gingerly sat down beside Pip. ‘Have you been to the island before?’
‘I haven’t, no.’ I glanced over to where Gabe had found a seat with his wife.
Mammaw narrowed her hooded eyelids as she stabbed at a tiny piece of fish. She didn’t look convinced.
‘Maybe you’ve seen me at Sherwood Airport, where I run my pasty kiosk? All the island flights land there.’
‘Only time I’ve left Siskin is on a boat. And that would have been long before you were born. Is she replacing that other one, then, Philip? I thought I saw her still sniffing around.’
‘Mammaw…’ If Pip slumped any lower in his chair, he’d disappear under the table. ‘Celine is only a friend. You know that.’
‘Are you sure she knows?’ Richard said in a rough voice, his eyes on the plate in front of him.
‘Emmie is here on holiday. I’ve not brought her home to meet the family.’
‘What do you call this, then?’ Mammaw tipped her chin even higher.
Pip closed his eyes briefly, then hunched over his plate, picked up his burger with both hands and took a large bite.
‘Did he warn you about this?’ Hugh’s mum, sitting on my left side, said with a humorous twinkle. ‘Don’t mind a word Aster says; she’s a born troublemaker.’
Aster carried on eating her fish, a satisfied smirk on her face.
The table chatted about this and that, whether it would rain any time soon, Lander’s cows escaping yet again, the market price of crab. It was hard not to keep searching out Gabe. My stomach was still knotted up from discovering who G was. At one point, Celine drifted over, but when no one offered her a seat, she left again. As the sun began to sink below the house, someone started strumming a guitar, and within moments, people playing a violin and bodhran had joined them. Rosemary handed Richard an accordion, and as he played, he sang a slow sea shanty, his voice blending with others to create a haunting sound that carried us away from a lovely garden bathed in late-evening sunshine to misty coves, murky depths and foam spraying against a fishing boat’s prow as it braved the wild, blue yonder.
When they upped the tempo, a few people got up and began a whirling sort of jig including plenty of kicks reminiscent of Irish dancing.
‘Aren’t you going to invite your guest to dance?’ Aster asked, her knuckles tapping out the rhythm on the tabletop.
Pip looked at me with a shy smile, his eyebrows raised in question.
‘I wouldn’t know what to do,’ I said. Even the younger children were seamlessly spinning amongst the adults, flicking their shins up in near perfect time.
‘I can lead you.’ Pip held out his hand.
The only time I ever danced in public was when Blessing dragged me onto the dance floor at the airport Christmas party. I usually lasted for about three excruciating pop classics before pretending I needed a wee.
But that was the old Emmie, who stuck to the recipes and always arrived at work on time. Who allowed a stifling combination of fear and duty to control her every move.
I wondered if the evening’s bombshells could have blown old Emmie to smithereens.
Could I do it? Could I dance? Risk making a fool of myself in front of Pip, his family and the woman determined to win his hand?
But right now, that hand was being offered to me. How could I resist it?
We slid into the wide circle of dancers, me gripping onto Pip as if my life depended on it. Feeling someone else take my other hand, I turned to find Gabe beside me. It made sense that Pip would position me next to someone I’d already met, but it didn’t help in my attempts not to stumble. As the bodhran thumped a furious beat, we stomped and spun, I was passed from one hand to another, around and in and out of the circle but always returning to Pip’s flushed cheeks, glowing gaze and firm grip.
‘Okay?’ he asked as the tune came to an end with a final flourish, the circle breaking apart to clap and cheer and bend over with hands on hips, gasping for breath.
I nodded, my own lungs heaving, but as the band struck up the opening notes of the next reel, Pip leant close to my ear and suggested we take a break, asking if I’d like to see more of the farm.
We had to move well away from the raucous dance floor before it was quiet enough to ask if it was okay for him to abandon the party.
He scanned the garden, those guests not dancing all deep in conversation, or, in the case of Iris and Hugh, entwined in a hammock, rocking gently beneath the emerging stars.
‘No one will miss me.’
I didn’t think that was completely true. Celine was talking to Lily and Violet, but her head was twisted in our direction. For obvious reasons, I wasn’t about to point that out.
Pip led me across the lawn to the pond, winding around the side to a gate leading into a meadow beyond.
‘Are we going to need a torch?’ I asked, aware of the lengthening shadows. ‘You know where you’re going, but I’m only a mainlander, remember?’
Opening the gate, Pip waited for me to walk through then came alongside me. ‘It’s fine; we’re following a proper path.’ He then paused. ‘But I hadn’t thought about you feeling uncomfortable going for a walk with me if it gets dark… We could see if anyone else wants to come?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ I replied, quickly. Any nervousness at being alone in the deepening dusk with Pip had nothing to do with feeling unsafe. ‘As long as I don’t accidentally step off the edge of the cliff and drown.’
‘Nah,’ Pip said, with a playful grin. ‘You’d smash to bits on the rocks before you had a chance to drown.’
‘That’s okay, then.’
His smile softened. ‘I’ll keep you safe, don’t worry.’
I absolutely believed he would. But, for all sorts of reasons, that made it impossible to relax.
We wandered along the edge of the meadow, on a dry, dusty path sloping gradually downwards towards the coast. Pip showed me the neighbouring fields where the cows and Basil the bull lived, weather permitting.
‘They’re grass-fed, so need more space, but the produce is worth it.’
‘You use the calves for beef?’
‘We do.’
‘Do you eat it yourself?’
He frowned. ‘I’m a farmer, Emmie. I wouldn’t raise cattle if I wasn’t prepared to consume the products. Although…’ he ducked his head, sheepish ‘…that doesn’t mean I don’t take myself off for a wee cry every time we send them to the abattoir, mind.’
‘What else do you farm?’
‘Free-range chickens, we’ve a small pear orchard that goes to Siskin cider, and a few different vegetables and grain depending on the season, crop rotation, that kind of thing. Oh, and the sunflowers for the tourists. We do pick your own through August and most of September. It’s humiliating how much profit that makes compared to the crops we harvest ourselves.’
We reached a stile at the end of the field, and he took my hand to help me down, as the far side was swathed in shadow. To my secret delight, as we began descending a steep path made up of broad, sandy steps, he didn’t let go.
‘We hear a lot about farmers struggling to make ends meet. Is it the same on the island?’
‘For some. Most are coming up with ways to make it work, though, like with the sunflowers. We’ll have more breathing room once the bed and breakfast is running. Lily will pay the farm a share of the profits, instead of taking out a mortgage. Intensive farming has never been an option here, so it’s always been a careful balance between a business that’s viable now and sustainable long-term.’
He chatted for a while about some of the ideas he’d picked up from his master’s course about Smart Agriculture, occasionally breaking off to point out a landmark, a nearby dwelling or a wild animal enjoying the dusk.
Even with my limited understanding, it was clear that farming was fraught with difficult choices, further complicated by the whims of Irish Sea weather, and mainland food fads.
What was also clear was how deeply engrained this life was in Pip, and how passionately he cared about ensuring his family legacy survived for generations to come. I understood how a family business was about so much more than earning a living.
‘You must have missed it while you were studying.’
He laughed. ‘I didn’t miss the early starts or the long days. I was also happy to forgo the biting winds and endless autumn drizzle. But when I walk across our land, knowing that all of it has been built by my ancestors’ hands. Glancing up at the sky and instinctively interpreting the shade of blue or smear of grey. The song of the sea and looking out across 40,000 square miles of open water. Aye. I missed it. Here.’
We went through another, small wooden gate, beyond which the path turned sharply to the right, and there, only a dozen broad steps below us, was a tiny cove, inky waves lapping against the pale crescent of sand.
‘Is this part of the farm?’ I asked, slowing down to take it in. The sun had disappeared below the horizon while we walked, leaving fading streaks of rose-gold above the furthest stretches of water. To one side, rockpools glinted. Directly overhead, more stars had begun to appear.
We slipped our shoes off, sinking into sand that was cool and damp. Pip opened a storage box tucked against the rocks and brought out a picnic blanket, a bottle of Hawkins perry cider and two plastic glasses.
‘Did you plan this?’ I blurted, my heart accelerating. ‘Is it something you do with all the mainlander women?’
Pip looked at me in mock horror. ‘What, offer them a tour of the farm and then lure them down here, ply them with cider and then… and then I don’t know what, because you’re the first mainlander I’ve brought here. Any island woman knows full well what lies at the end of the path.’
‘A bottle of cider and a blanket?’
‘Usually a bonfire, or a cricket match. Maybe some crabbing in the rockpools. Ma and Da generally keep a stash here this time of year. If we’d been lucky, there’d have been crisps or biscuits too.’ He smiled. ‘If I’d planned it, there’d have been strawberries and fine wine, not farm leftovers.’
We settled on the blanket and Pip poured the cider. A gust of wind off the water made me shiver, so he slipped off his shirt and draped it around my shoulders, leaving him in a short-sleeved, white T-shirt.
‘Now you’ll be cold,’ I said, taking a sip.
‘Nah. Once you’ve slept out here in March, a June breeze is nothing.’
We sat for a while, admiring the picture-perfect view. Beside me, Pip’s forearms rested on his bent knees, his glass catching the shimmer from the half-moon now sailing above our heads. It was wonderfully still, yet my body was far from peaceful, due to being deliciously, painfully aware of the proximity of the man next to me, close enough to feel his body heat and catch the faint tang of barbecue smoke.
It was undoubtedly the most beautiful, thrilling, nerve-jangling moment of my life.
After a while, I found the courage to sneak a glance to the side, and found him gazing at me.
‘Sorry.’ He jerked his head forwards, blinking rapidly as he shifted on the blanket. ‘I still can’t believe you’re actually here.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘Any idea when you’ll be heading back home?’
‘There’ll be a hefty fine if Parsley’s isn’t open next Sunday, unless I get permission from the big boss, which isn’t likely considering my only excuse is a stunning view and great company.’
I didn’t add that the fine was starting to seem worth it.