Chapter 4 #2
Gemma nodded. She didn’t want to show it but she was very relieved to find out this wasn’t where she might be living.
As it turned out, despite the building’s semi-derelict nature, the rooms were full of equipment, and all of it exceptionally well-ordered – the walls hanging with gleaming tools: spades, forks, shears and all manner of things, quite a few of which Gemma couldn’t even name.
‘First rule of smallholding,’ said Willow.
‘Never, ever throw anything away. Whatever we aren’t using immediately gets put in here, along with anything we don’t think we do need, because you never know when it’ll come in handy.
You’d be amazed how many times a raid on this room has saved our bacon. ’
Gemma raised her umbrella as they walked back out into the rain. ‘So how long have you been here?’ she asked.
‘We’ve owned the land just under two and a half years, but have only been living on-site full-time for about eight months.
It took a while to get planning permission and then build somewhere to live – we’ve got a friend helping us with that, but he isn’t here all the time and the dreadful weather last year slowed us down.
Like I said, it’s a work in progress.’ She rolled her eyes.
‘Like pretty much everything else, but it’s coming along.
’ She pointed ahead of her. ‘We’ll go this way first, and I can show you what we’re working on at the moment. ’
The next forty minutes passed in a blur of words and explanations, most of which meant nothing to Gemma – reed beds, water recovery, boreholes – and although she fought the feeling, the words she did understand filled her with trepidation.
That there was a lot going on here was never in doubt, but Gemma had no idea how she could help with any of it, and the reality of what some lifting and manual labour entailed was beginning to make itself very clear.
She’d glossed over that bit when she’d first read the advert, but Gemma wasn’t exactly in the first flush of youth, and a sedentary job coupled with too little time had meant that exercise had been non-existent.
She’d never tested how fit she was but she suspected she knew the answer.
Long gone were the days when she used to walk for miles.
‘It’s a lot to take in, I know,’ said Willow, looking anxiously at her expression.
‘But none of the work is difficult and you’d be with me most of the time, so I’d show you what to do.
Rowan does all the technical stuff, leaving me to look after the crops.
It’s just gardening really… on a slightly bigger scale. ’
Gemma smiled. ‘Deadheading roses I can do. In fact, I was quite a keen gardener in my younger years. It was my mum’s thing really but I helped her on a regular basis. She taught me everything I know, but something tells me there’s a lot more to what you’re doing here than that.’
‘Oh…’ Willow paused. ‘We don’t have any roses, but you could grow some.
There’s a garden behind the old farmhouse…
we think. It’s a bit overgrown at the moment.
’ She pulled a face. ‘I’m concentrating on fruit and vegetables for now, but a proper garden would be lovely.
Perhaps that’s something you might like to do?
Something you can make your own?’ She gazed out over the higgledy-piggledy area in front of them, real pride in her eyes.
Gemma appreciated her passion, but it was hard for her to see how it might ever be pretty.
‘Come and see the house,’ said Willow, touching her arm lightly. ‘I can show you your room. At least see that before you make up your mind.’
The rain was beginning to ease as they walked past a stand of apple trees and back towards the old farmhouse.
Gemma lowered her umbrella to peer ahead.
A patch of blue sky had gained mastery over the gloom and was showing itself through the gaps in the trees, flashing off of something which— Gemma stopped dead as they reached the clearing beyond.
It was the last thing she expected to see.
‘The rooms are hexagons,’ said Willow, with a wide grin. ‘All butted together so the whole lot looks a bit like a honeycomb. Isn’t it fabulous?’
‘It’s incredible,’ replied Gemma. ‘I don’t think I’ve seen anything like it.’
A huge pane of glass faced her, encased by a metal frame so slender it was almost invisible.
Another panel joined it, this time covered in what looked like wooden tiles, one overlapping the other.
Set at an angle to the first, this second panel slanted away from them, and as they neared, Gemma could see a third panel, again made of glass, and again at the same angle from its neighbour.
She tipped her head to one side, trying to make sense of the building in front of her. It really was like a honeycomb.
‘We didn’t want to compromise on our home,’ said Willow. ‘Our work is tough at times and this place… it’s a haven. It’s also, believe it or not, exceptionally ecologically sound. It has one of the lightest footprints we could find.’
Gemma followed Willow inside, her mouth virtually hanging open the whole way.
The front door opened straight into the kitchen, a large, airy room which was flooded with light from above.
It still wasn’t anything like you’d find within the pages of Homes and Gardens but it had been touched by Willow’s personality, with a joyous yet calming simplicity, and Gemma could see it would be a natural space to gravitate to.
It was also, she realised, open to two other rooms – one a cosy living room, and the other some sort of study or workroom.
The other rooms weren’t large, neither were they particularly glamorous, but after the relative chaos of the space outside, Gemma could see that the word haven which Willow had used to describe them was well chosen.
They were clean, bright and airy, and far beyond Gemma’s expectations.
‘The bathroom is through there,’ said Willow, pointing.
‘And the bedrooms are this way.’ She walked towards a door at the rear of the kitchen which opened to reveal a short corridor.
‘I hope the sky is still blue,’ she added with a mysterious smile.
‘It will make all the difference.’ She pushed open a door at the end, standing back to allow Gemma to pass.
Gemma could see immediately that the sky was still blue because, as she entered the room, she found herself facing another wall of glass.
She took in the simple furnishings as she moved forward: a double bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a large rug which covered most of the floor – all things she might have expected to find – but they stayed in her focus no longer than a second, displaced by what the blue sky had revealed.
Her feet drew her towards the window, where she stood, hand resting lightly against the glass, in open awe at the view in front of her. She was forty-two years old and in all those years she’d never seen one like it.