Chapter 19

19

On Tuesday, after a morning sanding the hall floor, which Hope decided was alternately hilarious and terrifying, I realised with a jolt that it was review day. I couldn’t resist peeking at Nora Sharp’s social media accounts, just to check Lucy was safe and well, of course. Safe, well and loving every minute of it, it would appear: #GoingGlobal #FlyingHigh #BetterThanEver. I then stuffed Hope into her snowsuit and we walked to the shops to buy bananas, a large slab of chocolate and, while I was there, I thought I might as well chuck in a newspaper.

     The latest review was for an exclusive spa resort off the coast of Italy. I spent a few minutes scanning images and wondering why I’d never thought of #GoingGlobal, and then I read the actual review and decided that wreaking havoc and destruction in one country had been more than enough. Nora Sharp was an ill-placed comma away from getting sued. Or fired.

     ‘Anything interesting?’ Daniel asked, suddenly looming over my shoulder as I hunched at the kitchen table.

     ‘Not really.’ I twisted myself round to face him, plastering on a casual smile as I splayed myself across the open pages. ‘Just, you know, thought I’d see what was going on back in London.’

     ‘Missing the big city?’ Twin worry lines appeared at the top of his nose.

     ‘No!’ I replied, letting out a derisive laugh verging on a cackle. I took a moment to breathe. ‘I’m really not. I love it here. If anything, I’m looking to congratulate myself on making my best decision in years.’

     I’d straightened up in my efforts to appear honest – which shouldn’t have been that difficult, considering I was telling the truth. Daniel leaned closer, and while momentarily distracted by the proximity of his broad shoulder, accompanied by his now all-too-familiar scent and delicious warmth…

     While I may have been closing my eyes and enjoying a shiver of loveliness, Daniel spied the review.

     ‘Ugh!’ he snorted, causing my eyes to snap back open. ‘I can’t stand that woman. What kind of moral vacuum must she have crawled out of to be able to not only live with herself, but act like she’s proud of making a career from being unpleasant? I can’t understand why anyone would give her the time of day, let alone read that poison.’

     I flipped over the page, and tried to ignore the secret that thrashed in my guts.

A couple of days later, firmly refocused on the future, I persuaded Becky to help me clear out a space in the barn that stood closest to the orchard. After swinging open the double doors and shining Daniel’s farmer-sized torch into the far corners, we agreed that a more professional opinion was required before venturing inside.

     ‘I’ve already called Luke,’ Daniel said, once we retreated back into the warmth of the farmhouse to ask Daniel. ‘He’ll pop by in an hour or so.’

     ‘It’s your barn,’ Becky squeaked. ‘You’re a fourth-generation farmer! Surely you don’t need Luke to check it out for you!’

     He grinned. ‘I’m a transmissions and distribution forecasting manager, and I wouldn’t risk setting foot in that barn without Luke’s go-ahead. Whatever you two are planning, I doubt it’s worth endangering lives over.’

     According to my research, using the barn was going to save lives, not endanger them, but I wasn’t about to argue against a visit from Luke.

     While we waited for him to arrive, Becky distracted herself from the urge to hide in the cellar by prodding me further about the event.

     ‘I think it’s a lovely idea, could be a great evening, and those are in short supply around here, but what exactly is the point? Usually these things are done to raise money for something. This is free.’

     I shrugged. ‘I thought it might be a nice way to get to know some people, and try out some ideas for the retreat, test some new recipes. If the space works, we could think about hiring it out as a venue for parties, or weddings. Even corporate events.’

     ‘Wow.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’ve moved way beyond a retreat already.’

     ‘The event space is just an idea. Really, I wanted to put on a free party in the hope I might make a couple more friends.’

     ‘Or check out the local talent?’

     ‘Yes! That’s a good idea. We’ll be needing more help once we—’

     I realised by the look on her face that she was talking about a different sort of talent.

     ‘Well, maybe Luke will come along, so you can be the ones checking each other out across the cider barrels.’

     ‘Oh my goodness!’ Becky burst out laughing. ‘Can you imagine him turning up to an Old Side event. He’d be lynched!’ Her laugh grew to what I considered to be completely out of proportion to the supposed joke. ‘Or… or imagine if you’d decided to carry out some sneaky scheme to get both sides together, and then a load of people turned up from across the river! It’d be a full-on riot!’ She snorted a few times, trying to get her next words out. ‘You’d have to flee the country! Daniel could never show his face in the village again. I mean, the reality would not be funny, but the idea of you thinking it might work is hilarious.’

     ‘I don’t think you give the people of Ferrington anywhere near enough credit,’ I huffed, ignoring a prickle of apprehension. ‘You and Alice didn’t take much convincing to work together. And when I was in the pub last week, Alice pointed out loads of people who’d sneaked over to the Old Side for one reason or another. I think this feud has become far more show than substance, only no one’s brave enough to say it.’

     Becky looked at me then, all trace of amusement vanished. ‘Eleanor, promise you won’t do something stupid. At least not without talking to me about it first.’

     Before I could garble a jumbled lie (or confess the truth), Luke appeared.

     After a rigorous inspection, he declared the barn to be solid enough. ‘It’s mostly surface damage, nothing that’ll put anyone at risk. Although that ivy could be the only thing holding the back wall together, so be careful with that.’

     ‘I don’t suppose you’d have time to help us empty it?’ I asked. ‘I’d pay you for your time, of course.’

     Luke flicked his gaze across to Becky, loitering a few metres away in the shadow of an oak tree.

     ‘We’d both really appreciate the help, even if it’s just half an hour.’

     ‘I heard you make cakes.’

     I smiled. ‘I’m sure I could rustle something up. Why don’t you two get started and I’ll put the kettle on?’

     I returned with tea and a decent chunk of carrot cake to see Luke and Becky lifting either end of a rusty water trough as they carried it out of the barn. Becky’s face was glowing with exertion, her curls springing out beneath her bobble hat, and she looked positively gorgeous. I made a concerted effort to spend the next hour hefting the items small enough to carry by myself, leaving the larger ones for the two of them. It was working – Becky was keeping her composure, and even managed to stutter a coherent answer when Luke asked how the bees were doing.

     ‘I could bring a couple of jars of honey over, if you wanted any,’ she said, fiddling with her hat.

     Luke raised one eyebrow in reply.

     ‘I mean, I could bring them here! So you can pick them up when you come to install the bathroom.’

     He gave a curt nod. ‘Thanks.’

     ‘Ever thought of moving out of the village, Luke?’ I asked, dumping a crate of screws in the growing pile outside the barn doors.

     He moved back inside to grab an old-fashioned roller lawnmower. ‘Got no reason to move.’

     ‘Well, then, Becky could drop her honey round to your house without it being a problem.’

     Becky glared at me, mouth hanging open, making frantic tiny slashing motions across her neck.

     ‘It’s not a problem for me now.’ He strolled past, swinging the mower as if it was made of cotton wool, not iron.

     ‘It’s a problem for Becky, given the response she might get from your neighbours.’

     He paused, mower perched on his shoulder. Becky looked as though she might faint, whether from the topic of conversation or how rugged and manly he looked, I wasn’t sure. Probably both. ‘As tasty as Ziva’s honey is, I’m not sure it’s worth me moving house for, given that we’ve agreed Becky’ll drop some at the farm.’

     I resisted the urge to explain that honey was not quite the point.

     Luke removed his gloves, pulled off his beanie hat to run a hand over his buzz-cut hair, then tugged it back on again. ‘Time I headed off.’

     ‘Well, thanks for all your help. Do you want me to pay now, or will you email an invoice?’

     He took three strides over to where the remains of the cake sat on a crate, grabbed the lot and took a giant bite. ‘Consider it paid!’ he called, words distorted by a full mouth. Then he shot Becky a wink, jumped in his van and left her swooning in the spray from his wet tyres.

I spent that night twisting myself up in the duvet, imagining the various ways that the Ferrington mob might react to my idea. Then remembering how Becky had guffawed at the very thought of me inviting both sides to my stupid cider tasting, and spiralling into panic.

     I lugged myself down for breakfast as soon as I heard Hope wake up, opting for coffee and a square of apple cake. My housemates were already enjoying their eggy soldiers.

     After a fortifying gulp of coffee, I decided to go for it. I needed to be open about what I was planning. Given the risk – albeit surely a small one – of anything kicking off, Daniel had the right to know in advance, given that it was his farm.

     ‘So… one of the reasons I’m clearing out the barn is because I’m planning a low-key type thing.’

     Daniel looked up at me from under his brow.

     ‘This Sunday evening.’

     He waited, a blob of egg dripping off the end of his sourdough soldier.

     ‘Like, with, cider tasting and food samples and, um, a short presentation.’

     Daniel nodded, stuffing in the soldier in one bite. ‘I was wondering when you were going to tell me about it.’

     ‘You know already?’

     One corner of his mouth tweaked up. ‘I might not go on social media, but I do go into the village from time to time. Even if it wasn’t plastered up and down Old Main Street, this is a village. I couldn’t take three steps without someone asking if I was really giving away free alcohol in my barn.’ He took a spoon and scooped out the last piece of Hope’s egg for her. ‘I’m presuming it’s some sort of publicity thing. Not that I’m sure how many of the random Ferrings who’ll respond to the offer of free booze are the sort of clientele prepared to pay hundreds for a lifestyle reconfiguration retreat.’ He handed Hope her last piece of toast. ‘You might get some future cake orders, though.’

     ‘It’s not totally for publicity.’

     ‘Oh?’ He looked at me, the creases sharpening across his brow. ‘The short talk from a local?’ He sat back, eyes widening as he pressed a finger against his scar. ‘I’m not the local, am I?’

     ‘No!’ I gripped my hands together, took a deep breath. ‘I am.’

     You’re giving a talk about Ferrington’s farming history?’

     ‘Um, sort of?’

     And then, because I couldn’t bear to keep another secret from this man, who made me feel like it might be worth being myself – plus, I was genuinely starting to worry that I might be about to incite a mass brawl on his property – I told him precisely what I was planning on talking about.

     ‘Okay.’

     ‘That’s all you’re going to say? You aren’t going to tell me I’m crazy or that I’m going to be responsible for instigating the Great War of Ferrington? Or at least that it’s a total waste of time and effort.’

     He smiled. ‘How can trying to do a good thing be a waste of time? And as much as people might enjoy perpetuating the feud, very few of them would resort to violence, these days. Most likely people’ll simply turn around as soon as they get there and realise both sides are invited. Some might decide to stay and heckle, start some aggro, but I’ll deal with that. And you never know, one or two might even listen to what you have to say. In which case, it’s a start. One tiny step closer to your peace bridge.’

     Right then and there, I fell in love with Daniel Perry.

     ‘Maybe keep the cider samples small ones, though. At least until you’ve finished your talk.’