BACK ON THE FARM
First Chapter of "Return To You"
The slowly setting sun cast a warm glow over the rolling hills. Exhausted from the long journey and blinded by the sheer brightness, Adley blinked a few times. Though really, that wasn’t the only reason: a few tears had gathered in her eyes as well.
This was it. She was back in Kirkby where she had spent her childhood and early teens, a place she had missed more than she had ever admitted, even to herself, over the past twenty years.
She had been fourteen when her parents took what they called “a unique opportunity” and emigrated from Scotland to New Zealand with her and her younger brother Bryce.
But Down Under was about as far as you could get from the Highlands, and to this day, she had never returned.
Two fat tears formed in her eyes and, darting a quick glance in the rear-view mirror at the child in the back, she let them make their way down her cheeks.
Willow was sound asleep and oblivious to her mother’s nostalgic moment.
Though “nostalgic moment” didn’t quite do justice to what she was feeling.
The sadness and the grief for her last relative in Scotland, her grandfather, ran far deeper.
After moving halfway across the globe, she had never seen him again.
The thought hurt. Her family was as bad at keeping in touch as they were good at holding a grudge.
Her father and grandfather had never got along, so emigrating to New Zealand must have felt like setting themselves free to her parents.
Not so for Adley. She had adored both her grandparents and loved the small farm in the Highlands.
A farm that now belonged to her, bequeathed to her by her grandfather in his will, as she had learned from his solicitor only last week.
Now she was here to sell it. Which was the reasonable thing to do, she reminded herself as more tears threatened to spill.
She needed the money to start over. A fresh start had topped her wish list for some time now, even if she still didn’t have the first idea what exactly that would mean. But this was something to decide later.
Right now, she was driving past the extensive paddocks of Rupert Fraser’s horse farm and a group of grazing Clydesdale horses.
A lot could change in twenty years, but she had done her homework before coming here and knew that the Frasers and their business were still around.
A mischievous smile spread across her face as she recalled happy childhood days spent in the stable with her friends and on the back of the amazingly patient creatures.
She had no idea in what condition she would find her grandfather’s farm, but that could wait.
Tonight, she and Willow would stay in the village pub, which had only recently reopened, as she had learned from Kirkby’s official online presence.
The website was fancy, and apparently the place itself had got a lot fancier too.
Back in her day, it had been nothing more than one of the sleepy villages near Loch Ness.
Not that she had ever minded that. And compared to her parents’ remote New Zealand farm, Kirkby had been a hub of activity even then, never mind the vibrant village life of today, if you believed what the internet had to say.
Which would be a pleasant change for her, at least for the time being.
She passed an expensive-looking restaurant that certainly hadn’t existed when she lived here and The Cosy Thistle.
The rather oxymoronically named B living with and caring for animals was second nature to her.
On their vast farm in New Zealand, the animals always took top priority; that’s all Willow had known from day one.
But for one night, Adley couldn’t bear to think about her family’s business, and most certainly not about ...
No, she wouldn’t even allow his name to creep up and poison her thoughts and feelings.
“The cows are taken care of,” she said firmly. “A neighbour comes over to feed them. So we’re fine to stay here tonight and check on them tomorrow morning.”
“Fine.” Willow gave in with a sigh. “Can we have dinner now? I’m staaaarving.”
“Sure, let’s go inside!”
Adley wasn’t confident she herself would be able to eat; her anxiety was through the roof. But as she stood outside the door of The Wise Pelican with her daughter on one hand and her overnight bag in the other, her stomach rumbled audibly.
“In or out?”
“What?” She wheeled around and found herself face to face with a man who smiled at her with raised eyebrows.
“Sorry, didnae mean to startle you. I just wanted to ...” He gestured to the door they were currently blocking.
“We’re going in too, aren’t we, Mummy?” Willow piped up, eyeing the man with interest. “You smell like goats,” she noted, wrinkling her nose.
“Guilty as charged,” the man admitted, lifting his hands. “My apologies. Allow me to introduce myself. Kendrick McIntosh, local veterinarian, I’ve come straight from treating some goats.”
“Are they very poorly?” Willow looked worried.
“Honey, let’s get inside. We’ve held Mr McIntosh up long enough already.” She smiled apologetically at the vet and stepped aside so he could open the door.
“No’ at all, and the goats are fine. It was just a routine check.” He nodded at them briefly and headed straight for a group of men who cheered jollily at his arrival.
Adley looked around indecisively. Nothing in this cosy pub seemed to fit with her memory of a gloomy, slightly run-down place.
Back then, it had been called The Scary Hound, and that name alone had been enough to make her avoid the place.
She wasn’t even sure she had ever been inside.
And apparently, she wasn’t the only one, because at some point it had closed down.
Today, though, the pub seemed warm and welcoming, and a lively crowd occupied most tables.
In the absence of a reception area for the rooms upstairs, she turned to the bar. “Mummy, look!” Willow called out, pointing at the huge stuffed pelican perched on a shelf above the swing doors leading to what must be the kitchen. The grim bird seemed to watch over the entire room.
“Guinness is our mascot,” a young woman from behind the bar explained, rolling her eyes. “The boss likes to claim he called the place The Wise Pelican before he got this … thing. Never mind, how can I help?”
“We have a room booked for tonight,” Adley replied, finding it hard to take her eyes off the beast. Why on earth did people feel it was okay to stuff dead animals? And to name a pub for a wise pelican? Weren’t owls the birds that represented wisdom anyway?
“Pardon?” she asked, slightly confused. She had been so lost in thought that she had not heard a word the woman had said.
“I was just asking for your name.”
“Oh, sorry. Adley MacAlpine,” she replied, forcing herself to turn away from the bird.
“MacAlpine? Like Graham MacAlpine?” The barmaid’s eyes widened with curiosity.
“My grandfather,” said Adley with a slight shrug.
“Wow, that’s amazing! I’m Ivy Richards. My parents own the farm next to yours. My da has been taking care of the cattle since ...” Eyes growing wide, her expression changed and she interrupted herself. “How inconsiderate of me! My condolences. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Oh, thank you. And I am very grateful to your father for keeping things ticking over. Willow here was worried about the cows.” Adley stroked her daughter’s head.
“We were planning on heading over in the morning to ...” She hesitated, not sure how she to finish her sentence.
To do what? The solicitor had mentioned on the phone that the Richards family were ready to make an offer for the animals but had no interest in the farm itself.
But she was just too exhausted to even think about it, let alone discuss it.
Come to think of it, Ivy was probably not the right person anyway.
“But right now we just need a bit to eat and a good night’s sleep,” she continued, and, as if in confirmation, was interrupted by a big yawn.
“Of course. Room 3 is all ready for yous.” Ivy unhooked a key from the board behind her and put it on the counter, together with a form. “I just need your signature, and I can add the rest from your online booking. And your credit card, please.”
Adley nodded, signed the check-in form and handed over her card.
“Have yous come straight from New Zealand?”