Chapter 7
SEVEN
Early the next morning, with both Sennen and Thom sleeping off the plentiful wine shared alongside their late-night chatting, Rita grabbed her wicker egg basket and slung a bag of grain over her shoulder. Not used to drinking so much lately, she felt slightly nauseous.
She rarely moaned about her chores, but today, squelching across the muddy grass in her boots, as the cows over at Hawthorn Acre voiced their milking indignation, she wished she were still tucked up cosy in her warm bed.
The stench of the farmyard hit her as soon as she opened the chicken coop.
Gagging, she doubled over and unexpectedly vomited onto the grass.
With watery eyes she grabbed a tissue from her pocket and wiped her mouth.
Then, cursing the smell and her own weak constitution, she continued tending to her brood.
The four hens squawked in a chorus so loud it could probably wake the dead, or at least poor old Nigel.
She shook her head. God, she missed that hilarious cockerel.
The memory of him dying from shock at Kelly’s attempt to shut him up with a shotgun had become a running joke, even if it still stung a bit.
Rita blew out a big breath. ‘Come on, girls, Mumma’s got a hangover; quieten down a bit.’
Rita continued to scatter the feed, careful not to get pecked in the process, and laughed at the absurdity of it all.
‘Honestly, I’m not sure who’s worse, you or the goats,’ she muttered.
The hens, as if in response, squawked in unison, knowing that their Mumma would soon be happy once she put her hands on the warm eggs they had just laid for her.
The chaos subsided for a moment as the hens settled into their feeding frenzy. Rita used the lull to observe each of them and smiled.
A breeze rattled the coop, sending a flurry of straw into her hair. She smoothed it down and looked out over the orchard beyond, grey clouds hanging heavy over the fields. A swirl of smoke from the cauldron in which Zenya chose to make her nettle tea drifted into the air.
She smiled as she reached the goat pen. Camilla, her favourite and now decidedly less sprightly herd member, wandered about the pen with a dignified sort of caution. Her white fur and slightly bent horns gave her the look of a wise matriarch, the queen of the herd.
Billy Idol and Vincent van Goat, the new boys and Camilla’s probable last offspring, had slotted in surprisingly well. Rita’s eyes softened at the memory of the night Jago’s steady hands had delivered them both, a sudden, bittersweet pang stirring in her chest.
Last night, after she’d had a drink, she had felt a strange, almost hollow absence, missing how she used to sneak into his bed after a long, exhausting day on the farm.
It made her realise how familiar and comforting that routine had been.
In the cold light of day, and feeling depressed after drinking too much, Rita realised that Hilda’s comment had unnerved her.
What if he did want to play boules with Elodie and not her?
‘Calm down, Rita,’ she said aloud, taking a long, exaggerated breath in a futile attempt to quieten her restless thoughts.
It didn’t work. Jago had been adamant that he would never see Elodie again, and she had to trust him.
Had to believe that on June the fourth it would be like a scene from a romantic comedy, the pair of them realising how meant-to-be they were and finally getting their happily ever after.
What they were doing seemed like the grown-up thing to do. She did love Jago, but she also loved the idea that a little absence might make the heart grow fonder for both of them. His plan was genius, really; she just needed to keep reminding herself of that.
She’d decided she would do her best to stay away from Hawthorn Acre.
There was no reason to see him. Anything that needed doing around the farm could be managed perfectly well by Stan, Teo and Zenya.
For now, she needed Jago out of sight and out of mind, at least for a while, so they could both find some clarity about what they actually wanted.
A smile crept across her lips as her thoughts drifted to happier times with him.
She pictured his face and imagined how he’d tease her if he knew she was getting all whimsical among the goats and chickens.
Meanwhile, in true man fashion, he was probably just milking the cows, his mind already on whatever else needed doing around the farm that day.
Brushing straw from her jeans, and feeling slightly brighter, she picked the egg basket up from the floor and wandered back to the farmhouse to see what chaos her own offspring were causing.
Thom came downstairs to find Sennen at the kitchen table in a flood of tears.
‘Oi, hey.’ He slid into the seat next to her and put his arm around her shoulder. ‘Talk to me, sis. What’s wrong?’
Sennen sniffled, blinking back tears. ‘It’s Rosecliff Barns…
They’ve let me down for my first summer wedding there, and now, it’s such short notice and…
’ She gulped. ‘And Chloe, that’s the woman I’m dealing with, well, she couldn’t even tell me to my face yesterday, just cowardly sent me an email.
I don’t know what to do.’ Sennen started wailing again.
It hurt Thom to see his sister like this. The ‘twin thing’, as they’d always called it. Feeling the same things, saying the same things, sometimes even acting the same way.
‘Chloe? You don’t mean Chloe Brimble, by any chance?’
Sennen raised her eyebrows. ‘You know her?’
‘Yeah, the infamous Brimbles.’ Thom stood to make himself a coffee. ‘She worked at the solicitors’ who handled Dad’s will.’
Sennen stared at him. ‘That Chloe?’
‘The very same. Jago pushed her into doing something she knew was wrong – in Mum’s favour, I might add – and she lost her job over it. Though don’t feel too sorry for her. She did take a cash bribe.’
Sennen frowned. ‘I know all that now. I just didn’t realise it was the same Chloe. That bloody will business, I don’t get why Dad didn’t just come clean to Mum that Teo was his son and that he wanted to leave him some money. Then Jago wouldn’t have had to mess with the will and hide it from her.’
Thom sighed. ‘Jago thought he was doing right by Dad. And Dad thought he was protecting Mum. Classic male logic.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Thankfully, Mum was completely fine about it in the end.’
Sennen shook her head. ‘Yes, but it’s all still a mess from every angle…’
Thom leaned back, eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘I agree. But, you know… she’s quite hot for a tattooed hillbilly. Chloe, I mean.’
Sennen’s mouth flew open. ‘Thomas!’
He threw his hands up, laughing. ‘Relax! I’m just saying. And come on, let’s think, there must be a way to sort this.’
Sennen rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide a little grin. Thom’s grin broadened, satisfied he’d lightened the mood.
Rita pushed open the door and put her boots next to the Aga. A curled-up Henry didn’t stir from his bed. ‘What’s so funny?’ She then noticed Sennen’s tear-stained face. ‘Oh my God, darling, what’s the matter?’
‘I’ve told her there will be a solution,’ Thom replied coolly, sipping from a black coffee without looking up from his phone. ‘Anyway, have you got any bacon? I’m in need of one of Mumsie Jory’s special fry-ups.’
Rita washed her hands and moved to the kitchen table. ‘Let’s sort your sister out first, shall we?’ She knelt beside Sennen, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. ‘Take a deep breath. Your brother’s right. Whatever it is, there’s always a way.’
Thom stepped in. ‘Rosecliff Barns have pulled the plug on the wedding she’s been planning.’
He began to clatter about in the cupboard for a frying pan.
‘Thomas!’ Rita shouted in annoyance. ‘Leave that for a second, can you?’ She grabbed herself a glass of tap water. ‘Sorry, sorry, darling. I don’t feel so great myself, but can you just wait five minutes, please.’
‘I told you, you should have been taking more water with your wine last night.’ Thom smirked, standing up and squeezing his mum’s shoulder lovingly.
‘Stop being such a dick.’ Sennen blew her nose loudly on the tissue Rita had offered her.
Thom had a sudden thought. ‘Wait a second… we can do it here, can’t we?
The setting is wedding perfect, in fact.
’ He gestured towards the outside. ‘The barn’s big enough for a whole bunch of stuff.
They could have the ceremony under the Singing Tree, even.
That view up at High Meadow is the best in Seahaven Bay.
We could decorate it with fairy lights, make it feel just as special.
If not more so. Rosecliff Barns who, I say. We’ll show them, Sen.’
Sennen looked at her brother incredulously, still sniffling. ‘It’s a thought, I guess.’
‘It’s a complete win in my eyes, sis.’ Thom thickly buttered a slice of fresh bread and ate it hungrily. ‘You know who owns that place, don’t you, Mum? The Brimbles.’
‘Oh.’ Rita grimaced.
‘Yeah, old Seth Brimble converted their biggest barn and renamed the place Rosecliff Barns.’ Thom thought back to his dad moaning about the not-so-straight Seahaven Bay family and how they never did anything by the book.
‘He’s been dodging planning officers for years.
One minute it was full of sheep, next minute it had fairy lights, a dance floor and a bar.
Nobody’s quite sure how it ever got signed off.
’ He shrugged. ‘Jago reckons backhanders to a council officer, but nothing you could ever prove.’
‘Maybe you’re better off out of it, then.’ Rita bit her lip anxiously. ‘When is the wedding, darling?’
‘June the fourth.’
Rita nodded slowly. ‘Ah. OK.’
Sennen’s voice rose again. ‘No, no, so we can’t have it here. That’s your birthday. It’s not fair.’
‘You jolly well can,’ Rita said firmly. ‘We’ll steal the champagne, if there’s any left at the end of the night.’ She flicked on the kettle and reached into the fridge for bacon and sausages.
‘What about the summer retreat you’ve got coming up?’ Sennen quizzed.
‘It’s in July, so that’s fine,’ Rita reassured. ‘And it’s just a day, isn’t it?’
‘And a set-up day the day before,’ Sennen said, but her voice softened. ‘It… it could work. Really nicely. Maybe even better than Rosecliff.’ She shot Thom a grateful look. ‘You always know the sensible answer, don’t you?’
Thom shrugged. ‘See, Dad drilled it into us, there’s always a solution.’
Sennen’s eyes widened again, a fresh panic bubbling up. ‘But… what about the wedding licence?’
Rita took her hands. ‘Darling, that’s just paperwork. We can sort it.’
Thom was scrolling. ‘OK, I’ve got it here. We need to get a move on if we are going ahead with it. It says eight weeks minimum to sort a licence. Jago may well have to use his charm as I know he’s had dealings with one or two at the council offices before. It will cost as well, Sen.’
Sennen took a breath to settle herself. ‘That’s fine. I’ve got money in my business account.’
Thom leaned back, thinking. ‘And imagine the publicity. Say “I do” with the best view on earth. It’ll have couples lining up to book weddings here, whatever the season.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Rita said. She took another sip of water and Thom noticed she was looking a bit peaky.
‘It’s going to be all right, isn’t it?’ Sennen said, smiling now.
Rita nodded. ‘Of course it is, darling.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Right! The only hurdle is hoping that your bride is up for this venue change.’
‘She’ll be fine,’ Sennen dismissed. ‘I haven’t actually met her yet, but she told me she’s just turned sixty, so I expect she’s grateful to be getting married.’
‘Sennen! Don’t be so ageist.’ Rita shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’ve clearly raised monsters here.’
‘Yes, and hungry ones at that,’ Thom groaned.
Rita hit her son on the head gently with the empty frying pan. ‘OK, OK, a farmhouse special breakfast coming up.’
‘At last.’ Thom smirked. ‘It’s nearly bloody lunchtime!’