Chapter 3
Saul Green swung himself out of the old Land Rover and slammed the door shut, wincing as a flake of rust dropped onto the tarmac. He should see to that before the door disintegrated completely, but he couldn’t muster any enthusiasm for the task. Maybe he would repair it in the spring, when there was less likelihood of his nuts freezing off. That barn was draughtier than the summit of Everest in a howling gale.
Narrowing his eyes at the drop in temperature, he reached into the pocket of his ancient wax jacket, pulled out a navy beanie and plonked it on his head.
‘All right, Saul? How’s your mam?’
‘Good, thanks.’ Saul smiled at Betty.
The old lady worked in Peggy’s Tea Shoppe, and she must have spotted him through the window when he’d pulled up outside and hurried out to greet him. She was dressed, somewhat bizarrely, in an ankle-length bright yellow skirt with pink wellies poking out from under its hem, a striped jumper in several different colours and a white maid’s cap on her head. Completing the outfit was a pinny with ‘Peggy’s Tea Shoppe’ emblazoned on the front.
‘Will she be at the committee meeting this evening?’ she asked. According to Saul’s mother, Betty was the most vocal member of Tanglewood’s Christmas festival committee – and Betty and the chairperson, Lady Tonbridge, constantly butted heads.
‘She wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ he told her.
‘What about you? Will you be there?’ she demanded.
‘It’s not my scene. Besides, I’ve got other plans.’
Betty raised a pair of knowing eyebrows. ‘Not another date?’
Saul couldn’t make up his mind whether her tone was one of accusation or admiration. ‘Gotta try before you buy,’ he retorted lightly. ‘That’s what dating is all about. Surely people dated in your day?’
‘In my day? Don’t be so bloody cheeky! It’s still my day.’ She struck a pose, turning her skinny body to the side and putting her hand on a thrust-out hip.
‘So it is,’ he soothed.
Betty grinned at him. ‘The way you’re rattling through the available totty, the only woman within twenty miles who hasn’t been on a date with you will be me. How about it, son? I reckon I could put you through your paces.’
Saul’s eyes widened in horror. Betty was in her mid-eighties. ‘I’ll… er… keep you in mind if this one doesn’t work out.’
‘She won’t,’ Betty replied confidently. ‘None of them ever do. But one of these days there will be a girl who will knock you for six.’
‘How do you know it’s not this one?’ His date for this evening was gorgeous: tumbling blonde hair, big blue eyes and a figure to keep a man awake at night.
Betty tapped the side of her nose. ‘I just know.’
Saul smiled nicely at her. Betty pretended to know stuff, but when it came to him, she knew nothing. Saul had already been ‘knocked for six’ years ago, and he had no intention of letting it happen again. It had taken him a long time to get over Joelle.
‘Take care, Betty,’ he said. ‘I must dash, I want to catch Leanne before she closes.’ He made his escape and headed up the street towards his sister’s flower shop.
When he got there, he took a second to admire her window display. Leanne always took great pride in it, and this one was gorgeous. Gone was the pumpkin and Halloween theme of last week; now it was full-on Christmas, with two real fir trees (albeit small ones), a little compact sleigh, which he had helped her make, and lots of natural foliage. And poinsettias. Loads of poinsettias.
‘The window is looking good,’ he said, as he stepped inside.
Leanne was crouching over a bucket of orange blooms, and she grinned up at him. ‘It is, isn’t it? I’m really pleased.’
‘What are those?’ He pointed to the flowers in the bucket.
‘Chrysanthemums.’
‘Do they signify anything?’ he asked.
Leanne straightened up. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Like, roses are for love, aren’t they? If I give someone a bunch of chrysanthemums, they won’t think it’s a declaration of love, will they?’
His sister sighed. ‘By someone , you must mean a poor unsuspecting woman. No, they don’t signify love. Orange and yellow ones are for good luck, which is appropriate because she’s going to need it.’
‘Harsh.’
‘It’s true. Is this one serious?’
‘Why would you think that?’
‘You’re buying her flowers,’ Leanne stated. ‘You never buy any of them flowers.’
Saul hesitated. She had a point; he didn’t usually buy his dates flowers. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ he declared. ‘I don’t want her to read anything into it.’
‘Good lord, no! That wouldn’t do at all.’
‘No, it wouldn’t,’ he replied seriously, until he realised his sister was pulling his leg and scowled.
‘Is this date number four or five?’ she asked.
‘Four. Why?’
‘One more to go before you dump her.’
Saul lifted his chin. ‘I mightn’t dump her.’
‘You will.’ Her tone was confident. ‘You always do.’
Leanne was right.
He, too, had a feeling that Zara would soon fall by the wayside. They always did.
Saul was already seated at a table in the restaurant when Zara walked in, and he drew in a sharp breath. Even bundled up in an ankle-length woollen coat, she was stunning, and he was conscious that many eyes, male and female, were on her as she spotted him and made her way to their table.
When she slipped off her coat and handed it to a waiter, his breath caught again. The skin-tight red dress hugged her figure and he tried not to stare. Considering it was rather low-cut and there was an expanse of cleavage on show, he had to work hard to keep his focus on her face.
And what a lovely face it was. He would be a fool to let her slip through his fingers. But he already knew that was precisely what would happen. If he was honest, there would be no slipping involved. He would push her away, like he always did, because there was no way he intended to let any woman get close enough to break his heart again.
Saul thought about what Leanne had said. This was date number four. None of his girlfriends lasted to date number six.
Was he that predictable?
His sister thought so.
Remembering his manners, he half-rose from his chair to give Zara a hug and a quick kiss on the lips.
‘Are you having a good week?’ he asked, to break the ice.
She pulled a face. ‘We lost a patient yesterday, so not brilliant.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’ Zara was a nurse at the local hospital, which was why they were having dinner on a Wednesday evening. Her shifts tended to be rather random. He didn’t bother to tell her what he had been doing since they’d last met. Rounding up sheep for market paled into insignificance compared to what she did for a living. Working in a high-dependency unit must be tough.
They ordered their food, and while they waited for it to arrive, they chatted about inconsequential things. He described the TV series he had been binge-watching, and she told him about the new thriller author she’d discovered. Her current read was called The Nurse and he hoped she wasn’t getting any interesting ideas that she might want to use on him when he broke up with her.
‘I’m going to Hereford on Saturday with some friends,’ she said. ‘We’re staying overnight. It should be fun.’
She carried on telling him about it, not noticing the way he’d stiffened at the mention of the town’s name. He couldn’t help it. Hearing it always affected him the same way. That was where Joelle had moved, after she had broken his heart.
Thinking about his ex, even after all this time, still made his heart constrict – what was left of it. He suspected there wasn’t much, because if there had been, he wouldn’t be contemplating breaking up with Zara this evening.
No, not contemplating . He was going to do it. She was so lovely that it wasn’t fair to keep stringing her along. He had a suspicion, by the way she was flirting with him this evening, that she was more into him than he could ever be into her.
It wasn’t her fault; it was his. He was an emotionless desert and maybe it was time he stopped trying to fill the emptiness inside him by going on meaningless dates with women he could never commit to, and whom he sometimes ended up hurting. He always felt awful after he broke up with someone – even those women who hadn’t been particularly bothered, or who had only been dating him because they wanted a bit of fun. Whether he hurt their feelings or not, he still felt bad.
Later that evening, when he did the horrid deed, Zara, bless her, made it easy for him, which conversely meant he felt even worse. Ashamed of himself, Saul vowed this would be the last time.
As he drove back to the farm in his old rust bucket, he replayed the final scene of their non-relationship in his head. He had waited until they had finished the meal, had driven her home and had parked outside her neat terraced house before breaking the news.
‘I guessed as much,’ she’d said, a small smile playing about her lips. ‘You’ve got a bit of a reputation.’
‘I have?’
She’d nodded. ‘I was warned about you, so I’m not surprised.’
‘I’m sorry—’ he began, but she stopped him by putting a hand on his arm.
‘It’s not true what they say. I don’t believe you’re a playboy. I think you are damaged goods.’
Saul blustered, ‘I’m not—’
‘You are ,’ Zara insisted. ‘I’ve seen enough broken people in my time to know you’re one of them. I wish I could help, but your kind of pain doesn’t respond to intravenous medication. Take care, Saul. I hope you find what you’re looking for.’ And with that, she had got out of the car.
He had watched her until she reached her front door, and waved back when she gave him a little goodbye flutter of her fingers. She hadn’t seemed upset, and he was thankful for that, but he still felt terrible.
It was only as he was rattling into the farmyard, the Land Rover juddering over the potholes, that he wondered what Zara had meant when she’d said she hoped he found what he was looking for.
What was he looking for?
He wasn’t sure, but one thing he did know was that it wasn’t love. He had found that once and lost it. Now look at the state he was in.
He had to try to patch himself back together first, before he could learn to love again. If he ever did. Or if he even wanted to…
Saul had an awful feeling that his heart was beyond repair.
‘You know the saying that old farmers never die, they just get ploughed under?’ Saul’s father said, the following morning.
Saul paused to rub the sleeve of his scruffy old jumper across his face. He and his dad were repairing a drystone wall in the topmost field and it was back-breaking work. Saul couldn’t tell whether it had tumbled down naturally or whether something had knocked the upper stones out. However it had happened, it needed fixing before the sheep were brought down from the hills for the winter. Some farmers left them to graze on the mountains all year round, but Saul’s dad preferred to have them contained during the worst of the weather because he reckoned they were easier to keep an eye on. Saul was all for that. Although he loved the wildness of the mountains and enjoyed being up on the hills, trying to find a flock of sheep in driving sleet, when the cloud was so low that he couldn’t see the valley floor, wasn’t his idea of fun.
‘Never heard of it,’ he said.
‘Well, that’s what they say,’ Geoff persisted. ‘Anyway, I’m not planning on popping my clogs, but I do think I need to take a back seat. Let you and your brother run the farm.’
Saul snorted. ‘That’s never going to happen. You wouldn’t be able to take a back seat if your chair was on the moon.’
‘I’m serious, Saul. I want to step back a bit. I’m getting too old for this.’
‘You’re only sixty-five. You’re definitely not too old.’
‘I’m not saying I’ll give up farming altogether, but I think you pair should take over the day-to-day running.’
Saul froze. Him and Murray take over? Run it together? Yeah, right…
Saul wasn’t the eldest, but he had worked on the farm since he could toddle. It was all he knew. All five Green kids had helped out when they were growing up – it had been expected of them – but only he and Murray had stayed on to work the place.
The oldest, Martin, and his wife, Janine, were tenant farmers near Usk; Stuart, the second oldest, had quit farming entirely and was working for a logistics company moving lorries around the country. It hadn’t come as a surprise, as he’d always liked playing with toy trucks as a nipper.
The fifth and youngest of the five, and the only girl, was Leanne. She hadn’t wanted to farm either, opening a flower shop in the heart of the village instead. Which just left Saul and Murray.
Murray was younger than him by two-and-a-half years and was currently living in a converted barn down the lane which he had originally shared with Saul, but it was now the sole domain of Murray and his new wife, Ashley.
For the past few years, the farm’s structure had remained stable: Dad in charge and having the final say, with active (and often vociferous) input from Saul and Murray.
Now it seemed that was about to change, and not for the better, as far as Saul was concerned. There couldn’t be two hands on the tiller – someone had to make the decisions, and considering how often he and Murray butted heads, Saul feared that they would constantly be at loggerheads.
He could understand why Dad had made the decision to let him and Murray run the farm between them, because they put an equal amount of work into the business, but as the eldest of the two, Saul had hoped that when the time came for their dad to step down, he would be the one in charge.
If he was honest, he felt a bit put out, even though he was ashamed of himself for feeling that way. It must have been a difficult decision to make, and with Murray having to support a wife, and with Saul having no responsibilities in that department, he kind of understood.
It didn’t make it any easier to stomach, though.
Not for the first time, Saul wondered whether he should leave the farm. Strike out on his own, maybe? Do what Martin had done and become a tenant farmer. He would be his own boss, answerable to himself and no one else. It was an option that many farmers’ sons took, as a way to secure a farm of their own.
The only issue was the start-up costs, but his parents had helped Martin with his, and they had also financed Leanne when she had opened her flower shop, so maybe they would consider giving him a helping hand. It would be in the form of a loan, as it had been for the others, but it was better than going cap in hand to a bank.
There was also another thing to consider; Saul had moved back into the main house when Murray and his girlfriend had got married, so in effect, he was still living with his parents. It had never bothered him much – and it certainly hadn’t affected his ability to attract a girlfriend, although he didn’t broadcast that he still lived at home. A place of his own would mean he would have to do his own cooking and laundry (his mother refused to let him anywhere near the kitchen or her washing machine – which he was relieved about) but if he was lucky enough to secure a tenancy, he would consider it a small price to pay.
It was definitely time for a change, and maybe his dad’s decision to step back might be the kick up the backside he needed.
Saul read the same sentence for the third time, then gave up and closed the book. It had a good write-up, and an enticing cover and description, but he couldn’t get into it. He was about halfway through, and until today he had been enjoying it, but since his father’s announcement earlier, he seemed to have lost his appetite for reading.
Picking up his phone, he scrolled through the list of farms available to rent. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t changed since he’d looked at it half an hour ago. He had been disappointed that nothing had taken his fancy (too big, too small, too far away) but he was probably approaching it from the wrong direction. He shouldn’t be looking at farms to rent as a starting point – he should be getting his finances sorted and a business plan in place first.
He was too tired to think about it now, though. Creating a business plan called for a clear head, not one that had been subjected to a steady westerly wind for the best part of the day. His ears were still cold, despite the beanie hat he had worn, and having been indoors for the past couple of hours.
Saul reached for the novel again, but his attention continued to wander.
When he thought about it (which he tried not to do too often), what did he have to show for the decade and a half since he’d left college?
Not a lot.
He didn’t even own a decent vehicle, as the Land Rover was almost as old as he was. He had a gaming chair and a desk, plus an assortment of electronics which he hardly ever used, a selection of clothes and a handful of books. It wasn’t much, was it?
Discontent washed over him. This wasn’t how he’d imagined his life would be like. When he’d been at school, he had thought he would have had a house of his own by now, and possibly a steady job. Or one that paid a decent wage. He most definitely thought he would be riding around in a nice car. Something with cruise control and four-wheel drive. Something that would turn girls’ heads.
The only heads he turned when he drove the elderly Land Rover were those belonging to the mechanics in the garage on the outskirts of Tanglewood, as they took bets on how soon it would be before he’d need to bring it in to them to be repaired. It was a wonder he could get a date at all with wheels like that, let alone the number he got through in a year.
Had got through, he amended. His days of playing the field were over. Which was just as well, because taking an endless succession of women on dates was costing him a fortune – money that he would be better off saving for his new venture into tenant farming. But saving a pound or two on a meal out wasn’t going to get him far. He would have to think of a way to earn some extra money, in addition to the loan he might get from his parents. He had always been good with his hands; maybe he could hire himself out as a handyman? He was happy to have a go at most things – apart from electrics, after an incident involving a bolt cutter and a blown fuse, but the less said about that, the better.
That’s what he would do, he decided: he would put the word out in the village and wait to see if anything came of it.
Feeling more optimistic, Saul returned to his book. And this time, when he read the words on the page, most of them sunk in.