Chapter 23
The following day, Hope joined us straight from taking Lola and Max to school and, by mid-afternoon, we’d finished all the painting in the café.
‘I feel guilty,’ I said to Hope as we walked back to her car. ‘I keep stealing you from Nick to help out here but I haven’t even seen him yet.’
‘He doesn’t mind me being stolen for a good cause. The kids don’t have any after-school clubs on Thursdays. Why don’t the three of you come over for tea then?’
After she left, I went up to Maddie’s room. She was lying on her bed, as usual, watching Heartstopper.
‘We’ve finished in the café and Auntie Hope has gone. Do you want to come and see it?’
‘I’m watching this.’
‘Do you want me to help in here while I’m still in my messy clothes?’
‘I’ve already done it.’
I looked at the wall. The patches with insufficient paint coverage had been filled in but she’d clearly done it with a paint-clagged brush and they looked even worse than before but there was no way I was going to point that out after yesterday’s I’m useless rant.
‘I’ll order some white paint for the ceiling,’ I said, cringing at how bad the Tipp-Ex cover-up attempt looked now that it had dried.
‘Don’t bother. You don’t have to see it and I can live with it. Can I get back to my programme?’
‘Not yet. I was worried about you yesterday. You were really down on yourself and—’
‘I was annoyed with myself but I’m fine now and, before you offer, I don’t want to talk about it.’
She picked up the remote and pressed play again.
‘We’ve been invited to…’
With a sigh she paused the TV and raised her eyebrows at me. ‘What now?’
‘We’ve been invited to Briar Stones Farm on Thursday – all of us. We haven’t seen your Uncle Nick yet and you haven’t seen your cousins.’
‘Okay.’
She set Heartstopper away again, increasing the volume as a clear signal to me to leave.
I hesitated, wondering if I should push her to talk but maybe she was telling the truth about last night.
Maybe she had been frustrated with herself and there wasn’t some deeper self-esteem issue at work.
I closed the door behind me and went to my bedroom to change.
Clemmie was sprawled across my bed in a sunny patch.
She stirred as I entered the room and, when I greeted her by name, she stretched then padded over to me.
Picking her up and stroking her tummy, I wandered over to the window.
My bedroom was at the front of the farmhouse with an uninterrupted view across the fields to the distant Cheviots.
I stared into the distance, focusing on the beautiful vista and Clemmie’s gentle purring.
While I hated the thought of my daughter having self-esteem issues, it would have offered some sort of explanation for her moods.
Now I was back to square one, with no idea why she’d turned against me.
* * *
‘I can’t believe it’s our one-week anniversary today,’ I said to Mam over breakfast the following morning. ‘It feels like we’ve been here way longer than that.’
Mam nodded. ‘Same here, although that’s probably down to all the prep we did before moving. Today’s also one week until opening day. Excited?’
‘I am, although I’m not sure what to expect. A Wednesday could be a tricky first day so I’m working on the basis of expecting no visitors and being pleasantly surprised if we have any.’
‘I’m sure we’ll have some, especially with Claire running a piece in the Northumberland News.’
Claire – a reporter for the local newspaper – was coming this afternoon to take photos and interview us about our plans.
Mam had taught Claire to ride when she was little and she’d been delighted to hear that Mam and I had taken over the running of Hazelwick Farm.
She’d promised us a feature ahead of opening day and a follow-up at the start of the school holidays next month which would hopefully help spread the word that the farm was under new management and trigger some interest. The cows would have arrived before the second article although we probably wouldn’t be ready to advertise the cuddling experiences at that point.
Hopefully Claire would be willing to do another piece when we were.
The builders had scaffolding up around The Dovecote and were making great progress with the barns.
Work would be starting on the fencing today too.
Mam had arranged for Des – an old friend of Dad’s who ran a home-and-small-business repairs service with his son – to look at it last Monday when she moved in.
He’d said that the fencing at the back of the farm was in good condition and should last several more years but the fencing round the front pastures was at the end of its life.
It would be easier and more effective to replace the whole lot rather than attempt some replacements and sporadic repairs.
We’d given him the go-ahead, thinking it would also create a more positive first impression for our visitors.
On the agenda for Mam and me today was to print and laminate the menus for the café now that we had our logo.
Much as we’d have loved to launch with a full menu, the risk of excessive food waste was too great so we were planning a reduced offering of scones, sandwiches and traybakes, although we’d have a wide drinks range.
If everything went well, we’d roll out a full menu at the start of the school holidays and get it professionally printed.
The Garstangs had put up various laminated signs around the farm ranging from directions to the toilets to the importance of hand washing.
They were way past their best so I’d printed fresh signage with our new logo, laminated it and needed to put it up today.
Once we were happy we had the right signs in the right places, we’d enlist the services of a sign-maker to create sturdier, more professional-looking signs.
It would cost more than our homemade ones but Mam and I had both agreed that we were running a visitor experience on a farm rather than running a farm that had a visitor experience tagged on and therefore those small details were important in creating a positive impression and hopefully return business and recommendations to others.
Des arrived mid-morning in a flatbed truck loaded with sturdy fence posts. He introduced his apprentice, Hunter, who looked about Maddie’s age.
‘I came on a school trip here,’ Hunter said, looking around him. ‘Do you still have the big horses?’
‘We do. We’ve moved them to the pastures out the back so they aren’t spooked by you working here but you’re welcome to say hello when you have a break. They’re very gentle. Just don’t feed them anything, even if they ask.’
It was probably a joke a child would have liked but it still made him laugh and I appreciated the politeness.
Watching Hunter working hard across the day and eagerly lapping up Des’s guidance it struck me that, just like Lindon, he’d make a much more suitable boyfriend for Maddie than Alfie ever had.
Not that Maddie would ever know that because she never left her bedroom except to spend time with the guinea pigs.
I couldn’t believe we’d been here a week already and she still hadn’t taken a tour round the farm.
I’d give her until the weekend and, if she still hadn’t done so, I was going to have to do something drastic like confiscate her television and phone and refuse to return them until she’d explored.
* * *
The next day, Mam and I stopped working in time for a quick change before going to Briar Stones Farm.
‘Are you ready?’ I asked, knocking on Maddie’s door.
‘For what?’
I pushed her door open and my heart sank at the sight of her lounging on her bed, still in her pyjamas, watching Heartstopper.
‘For seeing your cousins.’
‘Is that today?’
‘Yes! So get yourself sorted pronto. We’re leaving in ten minutes.’
‘You’d better go without me. I don’t feel right.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Before she could stop me, I’d knelt on the bed and pressed the back of my hand to her forehead. ‘You don’t feel hot.’
‘It’s just a headache.’
‘Have you taken anything?’
‘Some paracetamol. It’ll probably go soon.’
I stood up. ‘Then you’ll be okay to come with us. Should be gone by the time we get there.’
‘I’m not coming.’
‘But they’re your family.’
‘Which means they’ll get it if I’m not feeling well and don’t go. Okay?’
‘No, it’s not okay, Maddie. It’s rude. You fell asleep and missed them all on Saturday, you barely spoke to Hope on Monday and Tuesday and now you’re refusing to see them when they’ve invited us – all of us – round for tea.
Headaches are annoying but they’re hardly a reason to cancel so get yourself washed and dressed and be ready to go in ten minutes. ’
‘You’re not the boss of me!’
‘While you’re living under my roof and contributing nothing, I think you’ll find I am. Get ready.’
‘No!’
I grabbed the remote control and switched the television off. ‘Get. Ready. Now.’
Maddie clambered across the bed and lunged for the control but I held it high out of reach.
‘Give it back!’ she cried.
‘Not until you drop the attitude and start behaving like a member of this family. Clock’s ticking.’
Gripping the remote control so hard that my hand hurt, I ran down the stairs. Mam was in the lounge with Nova and Skye.
‘I heard the raised voices.’
I shook my head. ‘I can’t even… She wasn’t dressed! Said she hadn’t realised it was today.’
‘That’s ridiculous. We talked about it over tea last night.’
‘I’ve taken this off her and ordered her to get ready but I know she’s going to defy me.’
I opened a drawer at the bottom of an empty shelving unit and dropped the remote control into it. Nova nudged at my hand and I stroked her head. Skye joined her and I sat on the floor, feeling calmer after focusing my attention on them and feeling their unconditional love in return.
‘You two love it here, don’t you?’ I said.
‘I think it’s a dream home for them,’ Mam said, her voice gentle. ‘And for you and me.’
‘And for Maddie?’ I asked.
‘That’s up to her. You can lead a horse to water…’
‘But you can’t make it drink,’ we said together, exchanging weak smiles.
When the time arrived to leave there was, predictably, no sign of Maddie. I reluctantly rose and went back upstairs, my steps slow. I knocked on her door and eased it open when she didn’t answer. She’d now clambered under her duvet and had her back to the door.
‘We’re going. I expect you to message Auntie Hope and apologise for your absence.’
‘Can I have my remote back?’
‘No. I’m leaving the dogs with you so you’ll need to feed them later and let them out for a wee. Promise me you’ll do that.’
‘I promise. I need to check on the guinea pigs anyway.’
‘And make sure you don’t let Clemmie out.’
‘How many times are you going to tell me that?’
‘Every single time because it seems you don’t listen to a word I say.’
‘I do!’
‘Really? Like you listened to me saying you need to put dust sheets down when you paint? Like you listened to me telling you repeatedly that we were going to Auntie Hope’s for tea? Like—’
‘Yeah, yeah, I get the point. I won’t let your stupid, skanky cat out.’
I drew in a sharp intake of breath.
‘My stupid, skanky cat? Is that what you really think of her?’
I was so hurt that I couldn’t keep the emotion out of my voice and evidently Maddie realised she’d stepped over a line as she turned round to face me, her expression stricken.
‘I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. I’ve got a headache.’
‘That does not justify what you just said. What happened to you, Maddie? Where did this nastiness come from?’
They were rhetorical questions but I paused in case she had an explanation. When she looked down at her duvet, I continued.
‘I’ve put up with it for nearly two years, hoping it was a phase you’d pass through, but I will not tolerate you taking out your frustrations on any of our animals when all they’ve ever given us is unconditional love.
You used to be besotted with Clemmie and now you barely look at her.
I’m bewildered by the change in you but can you imagine how much more confusing it must have been for her to be so loved by you one minute and cast aside the next? ’
My voice cracked and I blinked back the tears.
Maddie’s hair had covered her dipped face so I couldn’t see her expression but her body was shaking as if she was crying.
My natural instinct was to sit on the bed and gather her in my arms. No matter how much I was hurting, she was clearly in pain too.
As I took a step closer to her bed, the floorboard creaked and she turned over in bed to face away from me.
‘Shut the door on your way out,’ she murmured.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling drained and not sure I could face the inevitable rejection, but battling with the need to comfort her and make things better.
‘And I want my remote back,’ she added in a stronger tone. ‘Now!’
That decided it for me. With a sigh, I turned towards the door.
‘I’ll see you later. I hope the headache clears.’
Mam was waiting in the hall and, as I descended the last few stairs, I shook my head to indicate that Maddie wasn’t coming. She held her arms out and I gratefully stepped into her embrace. As though knowing I’d just been defending her, Clemmie appeared and weaved around my legs, purring.
Stepping out of Mam’s hold, I picked Clemmie up and kissed her head. ‘I promise I’ll always love you and never call you names,’ I said.
Mam shot me a questioning look.
‘I’ll tell you in the car,’ I said, putting Clemmie back down. ‘The latest instalment in Maddie Does Mardy.’