Chapter 4
‘Why am I feeling so nervous?’ I said to Mam as we drove up the track to Hazelwick Farm the following morning.
‘Because it’s exciting. What happens next could change everything for both of us.’
It certainly could. As soon as we arrived back at Parsley Meadows yesterday afternoon, we’d scrolled through the photos on Mam’s computer, eager to see them on a larger screen, before phoning the estate agent to book a viewing.
I’d wanted to get Maddie involved but her reaction had been a familiar one.
‘We’re not moving house.’
She’d said that when I told her I was putting our Twyford home on the market because her dad wanted his share of the sale proceeds to buy himself a new house.
She’d repeated it each time I told her we had a viewing and again on Friday when I told her Laurie and I had accepted the offer.
Burying her head in the sand wasn’t going to change things.
The house was selling and, as soon as she finished her A level exams, we’d be moving. We had no choice.
‘I wish Maddie had changed her mind and joined us,’ I said to Mam.
‘She probably doesn’t think we’re serious. If we like what we see today and decide to make an offer, perhaps we can convince her to join us for a second viewing before you leave on Sunday.’
There were fields either side of the farm track and a myriad of outbuildings ahead of us.
Following the estate agent’s instructions, we drove through an open gateway and took the track to the right, past the farmyard and various barns.
After passing a sign marked ‘private’, we entered the accommodation part of the farm.
The farmhouse was directly ahead of us but side on to give uninterrupted views from the front across the countryside. There was a sizeable porch facing us – a boot and cloakroom according to the sales particulars. As we were parking, the door opened and a blonde-haired woman stepped out.
‘Mrs Garstang?’ I asked as I exited the car. She looked like she might be in her early sixties, a few years younger than Mam.
‘Anna, please,’ she said.
‘I’m Grace and this is my mam, Frances.’
As Anna shook our hands, a tan-coloured dog with a black back came tearing out of the farmhouse and circled our legs.
I recognised him as a Lakeland terrier – small, short-haired and originally bred in the Lake District as a working dog.
He was clearly very affectionate, his tail wagging as I stroked his ears.
‘Scampi! Inside!’ Anna instructed, and he obediently ran back to the farmhouse.
‘What would you like to see first?’ Anna asked. ‘Farm, café or house?’
‘Farm,’ I said, as Mam answered, ‘Café.’
Anna laughed. ‘How about we imagine you’re day visitors and I take you round the farm the way they’d see it?’
We followed her to the farmyard. She pointed out the visitor parking spaces and explained that the entrance to the farm was through the café where customers paid their admission fee.
‘This is the café,’ Anna said once we were inside. ‘My little slice of heaven.’
It was beautifully fitted out with sturdy oak tables and comfortable-looking chairs. The serving area was spacious with cake display fridges beneath an oak counter, a state-of-the-art coffee machine and several top-quality drinks fridges.
‘It all looks good as new,’ Mam said.
‘No expense spared and I take great pride in my workplace.’ That was obvious from the shine in her eyes and the smile on her face.
She led us into the kitchen and told us we were welcome to open the drawers and cupboards.
‘All the equipment is included in the sale,’ she said. ‘My husband, Doug, and I are retiring to Spain. No point moving it all there.’
I gazed around me, taking in a pair of industrial ovens, an enormous fridge-freezer, a restaurant-standard dishwasher and several stainless-steel food preparation areas.
‘Wow!’ Mam mouthed to me as we opened a wide door, revealing a sizeable pantry with sturdy racking on three sides.
It was extremely impressive. If we went for it, Mam would be in her element baking in here.
‘From the café, visitors can either turn right into the heavy horse museum or go left which takes them through the stables and out into the farm,’ Anna said.
‘I’ll show you the museum first. Again, everything you see in there is part of the sale.
It’s a bit dusty, mind – hasn’t been updated for a while. ’
The museum was a large converted barn in which the centrepiece was an old brewery cart complete with beer barrels. There were various small pieces of old agricultural equipment at the end of the barn and harnesses, horseshoes and brasses displayed on the walls alongside several information boards.
We retraced our steps past the café and into the rear of the stables. Pausing at the top of a gentle slope, I could see that there’d been no expense spared in the stables either. There were eight stalls down each side separated by an extra-wide aisle, perfect for manoeuvrability of heavy horses.
Anna took us down the ramp and through some double doors at the back of the stables.
‘Storage and tack room,’ she said. We opened a few doors before returning to the stables.
‘It’s been mild and dry recently so the horses are all turned out,’ she said, ‘but if you have any questions about them, I’m afraid I’m no expert.
My daughter, Shelley, runs that side and I’m in charge of the café.
I’d have introduced you to her but, with us closing to the public over winter, she’s on holiday at the moment. ’
Anna paused by the large sliding doors at the front and smiled. ‘I think you’ll like this view.’
After she pushed one of the doors aside, Mam and I stepped outside and my heart soared. All I could see stretching out for miles was beautiful countryside.
‘You can see the Cheviots in the distance,’ Mam exclaimed.
Straddling the Anglo-Scottish border, the rolling range of the Cheviot Hills was approximately thirty-five miles long.
Most of the peaks were fairly low and the range was extremely popular with hikers.
I’d been on several school trips to the hills, valleys and waterfalls and had summited Cheviot – the highest peak – several times in my youth.
I breathed in several deep, slow lungfuls of cool, crisp fresh air and smiled as, beside me, Mam did exactly the same. There was something special about this place. I could feel it in my bones.
‘I’m getting a bit chilly,’ Anna said, rubbing her hands together.
‘Can’t believe I didn’t think to grab a coat.
Why don’t you wander round on your own for a bit?
The horses are in the back fields and the goats are in one of the barns off the farmyard.
Knock on the farmhouse door when you’re done and I’ll show you around inside. ’
The horses were turned out across three different fields behind the stables and my heart soared once more as we approached them.
‘Look at them, Mam! Aren’t they gorgeous?’
The first field we reached appeared to be the largest and home to five heavy horse mares.
I recognised two magnificent Shires – one grey and one brown – and a Clydesdale as, having worked with those two breeds, I knew them well.
I wasn’t certain about the other two. The grey Shire approached the metal barred gate and I stroked her neck, my heart overflowing with joy to be in the presence of horses once more.
It had only been four days since I left Langley Lodge but there’d been such an ache inside of me.
The Shire was joined by one of the unfamiliar breeds – a smaller chestnut horse with a liver mane and tail who playfully butted Mam’s shoulder to get some attention.
Mam and I looked at each other and smiled and I knew what she was thinking. This was the place.
In the next field were the male heavy horses – a black Shire, a black-roan Clydesdale and a shorter, stockier chestnut-coloured horse I recognised as a Suffolk Punch. A third field contained two geldings and a pony, all of them brown.
‘What do you think, Mam?’ I asked as we stroked the pony.
‘It’s wonderful. I can picture us here and I don’t even need to see inside the farmhouse to do that. It feels like home.’
‘I agree.’
There was something about Hazelwick Farm that moved me. I had an overwhelming sensation that all the recent heartache had been leading me here and I’d now arrived at the place I was always destined to be. I felt as though I’d been here before, even though I knew I hadn’t.
‘Maddie could work here over the summer,’ Mam said. ‘Imagine that! Three generations of women working together in a magical place like this.’
Magical. That was the perfect word for it.
I smiled at her. ‘I’m in! Let’s make it happen.’