Chapter 49
Will left around mid-afternoon on the Sunday. He didn’t want to leave me but I refused to let him cancel his plans to see his mum. Returning on the evening wasn’t an option as he had some marking to do ahead of the fresh school week.
His absence gave me the time and space to listen to Marianne’s tape several times and think about all the aspects of my childhood that made so much more sense now.
I’d always wondered why my dad hated me so much and now I knew.
It had been about his negative reaction to Marianne’s pregnancy and the impact his deal with Eli Farrow had on our family, driving a wedge between them all.
I’d always believed I must have said or done something to turn him against me and it was strangely comforting finally knowing that I hadn’t.
I didn’t need to work on Monday as Milly was working the full day but I went downstairs when I heard her arrive and she enveloped me in a hug. I’d told Paulette everything and had asked her to update the others.
‘How are you doing?’ Milly asked.
‘I lost it yesterday, but I’m okay today. How’s your workload?’
‘Not too heavy today so I’m all yours if you’d like to talk between customers.’
Paulette joined us shortly after opening time and we sat by the counter with mugs of tea discussing what I’d shared with them both.
‘I can’t even begin to imagine what it must feel like to discover your sister was really your mum and your parents were your grandparents,’ Milly said. ‘Your head must be mashed.’
‘It is. Things they said at various times keep coming back to me and I understand them in a new light. There were clues but I can only see them now that I know the truth.’
‘And this Richard’s dead too?’ Paulette asked.
‘Yes. I wondered if she might have just said that to stop me going to the farm, but I found his obituary online.’
‘Might you still go to the farm, though? If he got married and had kids, they’re your half-siblings.’
‘Half-siblings?’ I stared at Paulette, wide-eyed. ‘That never even entered my head.’
‘How do you feel about that?’ Milly asked.
‘I’m not sure. I thought I was the last one standing – the end of the branch – but I’m not, am I? Oh, my God! What do I do? Do I contact them? Do I want to?’
Paulette and Milly gave me reassuring smiles.
‘There’s no need to rush into anything,’ Paulette said. ‘You’ve had plenty of shocks already. Take some time to let the dust settle and see how you feel then.’
* * *
Over the next few days, I went through the photos in the shoebox and smiled when I came across one of me as a little girl licking cake batter off a wooden spoon. That conversation at Cake & Craft Club with Veronica seemed like a lifetime ago now.
I recognised Mum’s neat handwriting on the back of most of the photos, listing names, dates and locations.
There was a well-worn photograph of a man and I gasped, not needing to turn it over to know who it was.
No wonder Marianne had found it hard to look at me.
It wasn’t just the eyes. I was the image of my father.
Sure enough, when I turned it over, I recognised the same scrawl from Marianne’s final note:
Yvonne, this is your dad, Richard Farrow, age 18.
I’d gone back and forth as to whether I wanted to visit the farm and introduce myself.
Having always felt as though I’d missed out by not having any grandparents, aunts, uncles or cousins, I loved the idea of having a big family out there but, from what Marianne had said on the tape, they knew nothing about me and I didn’t want to cause them any pain.
No matter how much I longed to connect with them, it felt kinder to them to let sleeping dogs lie.
‘You know what you could do?’ Will said.
‘You could ask for permission to scatter Marianne’s ashes on their land.
You don’t have to say why but at least it’d give you a plausible reason to meet them.
You can gauge then whether it’s best to walk away or tell them the truth.
Bear in mind that you’re assuming that discovering they’ve got a half-sister would be bad news but that’s not necessarily the case.
It wasn’t for your friends Emma and Oliver. ’
He raised a good point. It had been brilliant news for them and the half-siblings were exceptionally close.
I wasn’t sure what to do for the best, but scattering Marianne’s ashes where the shepherd’s hut had been was her final wish and I did want to respect that.
So that’s how I found myself driving up the track to Hayscroft Farm a fortnight after Amelia found Marianne dead.
‘I’m right here with you,’ Will said, taking my hand as we exited the car and headed towards the front door.
He’d been my rock this past fortnight. Most of the time, I’d felt pretty steady but, every so often, a wave of grief or anger crashed over me.
Will had let me rant and held me as I cried but I made sure it wasn’t me doing all the taking.
He still had a lot going on and I was there for him as much as he was for me.
I’d already told him that, as soon as the legalities were sorted around Marianne’s estate, I’d be giving him the money from the sale of the smallholding to pass onto Aaron.
He’d refused, of course, so I’d told him to consider it a loan until his house sale went through if that made it easier to accept.
It was obvious how great a weight that had lifted from him, knowing he could finally do something to help his friend.
‘Ready?’ Will asked as we reached the farmhouse door.
I nodded and Will knocked. A little girl – maybe aged eight or nine – answered the door, which threw me.
‘Hi, erm… I’m looking for…’ I realised too late that I didn’t actually know the name of Richard’s wife.
‘Nanna!’ the girl shouted. ‘There’s some people at the door.’
‘What have I told you about answering the door to strangers?’ a woman called, appearing in the porch and shooing the girl into the room she’d emerged from.
She looked up and I placed her in her mid-seventies so hopefully this was the right person.
‘Are you Richard Farrow’s wife?’ I asked.
‘Yes. Who’s asking?’
‘My name’s Yvonne. I used to live at number four…’ I pointed in the direction of the lane, ‘and I was…’
I tailed off as her eyes widened and she clapped her hand to her chest. ‘Oh, my goodness, you look just like him.’
‘You know who I am?’ I asked, shocked by her reaction.
She nodded. ‘Richard’s daughter. I heard that Marianne had passed and I wondered if you’d visit. Come in.’
‘You’re sure?’ I’d never in a million years have predicted a reaction like this.
She gave me a warm smile. ‘It’s what Richard would have wanted.’
May had been full of unexpected moments and my visit to Hayscroft Farm was yet another of them.
Richard’s wife, Rosalind, had known about me for years.
She maintained the farm’s accounts so there was no way Richard could have bought the smallholding without her noticing.
Therefore, when Marianne presented him with the ultimatum, he decided to come clean himself.
She’d always known he was harbouring an enormous secret and figured he’d let her in on it one day.
It was Rosalind who’d suggested a payment over and above what the land was worth as some sort of recompense for what had happened.
Rosalind wasn’t a jealous woman. She trusted her husband implicitly and knew he loved her in his own way, even if Marianne was the one who’d always held his heart.
She was aware that Marianne and Richard had talked occasionally and that the feelings were still there along with a lot of regret, but she’d known that nothing would come of it. Their time had passed.
Richard and Rosalind’s three children – a girl and two boys – didn’t know anything about me but, with my agreement, Rosalind wanted to tell them and let them decide whether they wanted to meet me or not.
I hadn’t thought beyond half-siblings so another surprise was discovering that Richard and Rosalind had seven grandchildren aged twenty-four down to five and that the eldest of those had a two-year-old daughter.
My brain hurt working out their relationship to me – half-nephews, half-nieces and a great-half-niece?
I gave Rosalind permission to tell them all when she was ready and assured her I wouldn’t try to force a relationship if they didn’t want one. I’d had plenty of practice at that!
Before Will and I left, Rosalind gave us permission to scatter Marianne’s ashes where the shepherd’s hut had been and confirmed that Richard’s had been scattered there.
I came away in awe of what a strong woman she was, understanding and accepting that her husband’s heart belonged to another but the love he had for her was enough to make their marriage work.
A few days later, on a beautiful May Tuesday, Marianne was cremated.
We’d considered closing Created With Love for the day so that Milly, Paulette and Christian could attend the service but, with it being the half-term holiday, trade was busy so closing wasn’t ideal.
Kelly adjusted the rota at The White Willow so that Saffy could work in the shop and Autumn kindly offered to help her.
Veronica and Laughlin were now in Germany and fully aware of the situation.
They’d offered to fly back but I wouldn’t hear of it.
I knew they were thinking of me and that was enough.
Will was by my side, of course, and so was Fen who I adored.
Marianne’s neighbour Amelia came with her family and I noticed Rosalind slipping into the back of the room and slipping out again before the service ended.
Will and I collected Marianne’s ashes on the Thursday to scatter on Hayscroft Farm.
Rosalind had given me directions to the correct field, just in case I couldn’t remember the way, and had told me she’d leave a flag where the hut had been, which I really appreciated because, without the shepherd’s hut, it looked like any other field to me.
Standing beside the flag, I didn’t know what to say.
I had no speech prepared and to make something up felt hypocritical.
Through repeated listens to the tape, I felt like I understood Marianne better but I still didn’t know her. She’d never given me that chance.
I lifted the lid from the box. ‘Hope you’re finally reunited with Richard,’ I said as I emptied the contents.
I turned to Will, feeling panicky. ‘I don’t know what else to say.’
‘Then don’t say anything.’
‘But I feel like I’ve let her down.’
He put his arm around me, drew me to his side and kissed the top of my head. ‘All she wanted was for you to scatter her ashes here and that’s what you’ve done. You don’t need to do anything else.’
Feeling reassured, I looked up at the clouds. Wherever Marianne was, I hope she’d found peace, love and happiness at last. I wished things had been different between us and it was comforting to know from the tape that she’d wished the same.
Will pointed to a cloud. ‘That looks like a lily pad.’
And it did. I smiled as ‘Clair de Lune’ played in my head. ‘If Marianne’s up there, I think Mum’s with her too.’