A home from home, p.20
A Home From Home, page 20
‘We’re going to a farm,’ she told Plum, who she had dressed in her own mini country outfit: a corduroy skirt, boots and a gilet with pheasants on it.
‘Will there be a donkey?’ Plum was obsessed with donkeys.
‘I don’t think so, darling,’ said Gabriel, and her little face fell.
For a wild moment, Gabriel thought about phoning Tabitha and asking if she could find a donkey for Plum. He imagined taking her out to the orchard in the morning, holding her in his arms, telling her to look under the trees for a surprise. Tabitha seemed like the kind of person who could magic a donkey out of thin air. But it was a ridiculous idea. He never wanted Plum to be spoiled and indulged, but at the same time he wanted to give her the world.
I love you so much, thought Gabriel, looking at his daughter as he strapped her into her seat and she settled her cuddly ostrich onto her lap. Whatever we do will be because it’s right for you.
Saturday in Somerset was bright and blustery, the sky a tentative duck-egg with chunky blobs of cloud bustling here and there as the car rattled up the driveway.
‘Here we are,’ said Gabriel. ‘Dragonfly Farm. What do you think?’
He tried to see it through Lola’s eyes. She was a city girl, through and through.
‘It’s so pretty.’ Her eyes took in the orchards, the trees swaying slightly in the breeze. Some of the apples had already fallen into the soft grass below.
‘There’s a doggy!’ shouted Plum, as Poe belted round the corner to see who they were.
They drew up into the farmyard. Gabriel was conscious that all the buildings were a bit dilapidated. That the farmhouse itself was rather scruffy. The bright sunshine was highlighting its faults rather than disguising them.
Tabitha came out of the house, dressed in scruffy jeans and what looked like one of Gum’s old jumpers and a pair of wellies that had been cut down. A million miles from Lola’s designer perfection, yet somehow it didn’t matter.
‘It’s great to see you,’ she said, hugging Gabriel, then she turned to Lola with a smile. ‘You must be Lola. Welcome to Dragonfly Farm.’
‘Hi.’ Lola held out the bunch of lilies she had bought at her favourite florist: they were extravagant, tied with a large green bow.
‘Oh. Gosh. You shouldn’t have. These are beautiful. Come into the kitchen. Georgia’s making coffee. Oh, you must be Plum.’ Tabitha smiled as Gabriel lifted Plum out of her seat and popped her on the ground. ‘Now, Poe is very friendly but he forgets how strong he is, so don’t let him knock you over.’
‘Careful, darling.’ Lola hovered anxiously as Plum patted Poe and squealed with delight at his wagging tail.
Gabriel ushered his family inside, realising how nervous he was. He wanted everyone to get on, but they were all so different. He had already seen Tabitha clock Lola’s pristine boots and raise an eyebrow. He had no worries about Plum, who headed straight for the rocking horse in the kitchen and climbed into the saddle.
Georgia and Lola might have more in common, he thought. Georgia worked in media and had a more London air about her, in camouflage joggers and a sparkly jumper, her hair in a messy bun.
‘Georgia’s got some amazing news,’ said Tabitha. ‘She’s been commissioned to write six episodes of her police programme thing.’
‘Tab!’ said Georgia. ‘They don’t want to know. Coffee or tea?’
‘I’ve got water,’ said Lola, brandishing her water bottle.
‘I guess your body’s a temple,’ Tabitha grinned.
‘Not really,’ said Lola. ‘But I’m mostly off caffeine and alcohol. We’re trying for another baby.’
‘Oh,’ said Tabitha. ‘Right.’ She wasn’t quite sure what to say. ‘We might as well head to the orchard and get started. We’ve only got a few hours of daylight.’
The five pickers rambled up to the east orchard. It would be a month before all the apples were gathered in, but Tabitha was keen to make a start, especially as the weather was fine. There was nothing more miserable than apple picking in the freezing rain.
Brightly coloured tubs were put under the trees that were ready. Each variety needed to be kept separate until the time came to blend them. Gabriel and Plum were put in charge of the Somerset Redstreak, while Lola was to gather in Dabinett.
‘They’ve all got different qualities,’ Tabitha told them. ‘Yours are both bittersweet, while mine is bitter-sharp. And Georgia’s picking the sweetest variety – Ashmead’s Kernel.’
They all set to work. As the sun rose higher, the long grass dried and the scent of apple became stronger. It was immensely soothing and satisfying, grubbing about for waxy-skinned fruit. Plum ran from tree to tree, helping different people, carefully picking up the apples from the ground and plonking them in the right bucket.
‘Have you got a donkey?’ Plum asked Tabitha, never one to give up.
‘A donkey?’ Tabitha knelt down beside her. ‘Do you know, I haven’t, but I think a donkey would be a fabulous idea. Do you like donkeys?’
Plum nodded. ‘I want one.’
‘Me too,’ said Tabitha. She looked out at the orchard and imagined a long-eared grey donkey meandering about. It was just what the place needed, a living creature to liven things up. Horses were too high-maintenance, goats were a nuisance, but a donkey would be sweet. She felt a little burst of something in her heart. Hope? Excitement?
Then she reminded herself she couldn’t make plans. Certainly not ones involving a commitment like a donkey. The future of Dragonfly Farm was precarious. She had a long way to go before she could start indulging her fantasies.
Tabitha parked up Jimmy O’Gowan’s Defender. As the tubs filled they were put into the back of the truck, and when the back was full she bounced over the tussocks to the farmyard and unloaded the buckets into the barn before coming back with more empty receptacles.
At lunchtime they piled into the kitchen. Tabitha had made soup and sausage rolls, and they all sat around the table until every last morsel had been devoured. She’d even made Plum her own soup without cream and gave her a little plate of sausage and apple sauce, as Gabriel had forewarned her of Plum’s allergies.
She slipped away at one point, after she had eaten. She felt overwhelmed by the situation, not least because she was so uncertain about what was to happen. In some ways she felt as if she was putting on a performance, trying to convince Gabriel that Dragonfly Farm was a dream come true, yet it felt so right, all of them sitting around the table, and everyone seemed to accept that she was mistress of the house. Not that she wanted to be in charge, necessarily, but it suddenly felt good, to summon people to the table and feed them, to make sure they were happy.
For a moment, she laughed at herself. She was going soft in her old age. She wasn’t the welcoming, nurturing type, like Joy had been. Or was she? Had she simply needed to wait for the right time to assume that role?
She looked across the valley and wondered about asking Dash to come and join them for dinner. It was a hospitable and kind thing to do: he would probably be alone. And he would get on with Georgia and Gabriel. She frowned as she thought about how he would respond to Lola. She had a feeling shimmering, glamorous Lola would be Dash’s type. She didn’t particularly want to be in Lola’s shadow.
And then there would be the whole Culbone question. Perhaps she needed to be a little more certain of the connections between them all before she invited Dash over.
‘Come on, everyone,’ she said, walking back into the kitchen. ‘Let’s get pressing while it’s still daylight.’
In the big open-fronted barn adjacent to the house was all the cider-making equipment. Some of it had been here for centuries; some had been added to by Joy who had often lugged things back from auctions or farm sales. The apples were tipped into a big old cast-iron bath – the plug had been blocked up with cement – and hosed clean.
‘Don’t worry too much,’ said Tabitha. ‘Pull out any big twigs and leaves, obviously. But the alcohol will kill anything dodgy.’
Then the cleaned apples were thrown into a big crusher. It made a tremendous noise as it chewed up each apple then spat out a glutinous pulp. A powerful scent rose up, the air filled with a sweet pungency, rich and fruity.
‘Now, this is the fun bit,’ said Tabitha, taking a bucket of pulp over to the press. Gabriel ran his hands over the ancient oak, wondering about who had made it and the tree it had come from, admiring its simplicity. A layer of pulp was spread onto a pressing plate then wrapped in cloth. When a few of the plates had been piled up, a weight was placed on top and the giant metal screw was turned until the pulp began to release its juice. Amber-gold liquid poured into the bucket from a tap at the bottom.
‘There we are,’ said Tabitha. ‘One hundred per cent pure.’
She dipped an old mug into the juice and passed it round for everyone to taste. They all laughed at Plum screwing her face up as it was more tart than the juice she was used to.
‘Don’t drink too much,’ warned Tabitha. ‘You’ll get bellyache.’
They spent all afternoon pressing until everything they had picked was juiced and poured into plastic barrels ready to be stored in a warm place while it fermented.
‘I love this,’ said Gabriel to Lola. ‘It’s nature doing her thing, with no real intervention from us. It’s bloody amazing.’
‘This barn’s beautiful.’ Lola looked up at the rafters. ‘It would make a great house.’
‘Tabitha’s hoping to start making sparkling cider. Like an alternative to prosecco or cava.’
‘An affordable celebration,’ added Tabitha. ‘I think it could really catch on, if we market it well. It would come in a proper champagne-style bottle.’
Gabriel was touched by Tabitha’s enthusiasm. She wasn’t by nature an effusive person, but he could see she was eager for Lola’s reaction, hoping for approval.
‘That sounds great,’ said Lola. ‘Like the countryside in a bottle.’
‘Exactly. Though we’d have to get investors. There’s loads of things we’d need. It’s a different method from normal cider, so there’s equipment we’d have to buy. And we’d need a big marketing budget.’
‘It’s a marketing dream, this place,’ said Lola. ‘It’s like Instagram heaven. Everybody loves heritage products, especially if there’s a family behind it. You could have great fun.’
Gabriel realised that Lola would be the perfect person to get behind the idea. She had such a good gut when it came to visuals. She understood branding. She could even be the face behind the campaign. He could see it already: a photograph of Lola in a flouncy off-the-shoulder maxi dress and cowboy boots, sitting on the back of a tractor, holding a bottle of sparkling cider.
But a warning bell told Gabriel not to get in too deep. He didn’t want to compromise his relationship with Tabitha by getting overexcited, or let Lola think he was manipulating her.
‘It could be a very quick way of losing a lot of money,’ he said. ‘Trust me – it’s tough, setting up artisan businesses. It takes a long time for the profit to show. You have to be able to ride that out.’
He saw a pained expression flitter across Tabitha’s face. She looked as disappointed as Plum on discovering there was no donkey. She wasn’t very good at hiding her feelings, he realised. He should tread carefully. It was a very attractive proposition on the surface, but he knew enough about running a business to know that there were endless pitfalls and potential expenses and the market would be a very competitive one.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lola picking up Plum, whose little lips were starting to turn blue.
‘Plum’s getting tired and cold,’ Lola said to Gabriel. ‘I think I’ll take her inside.’
He saw Tabitha’s lips tighten as she turned away. He’d love to help make her dream come true, he thought, but he shouldn’t give her false hope. He knew he held the key to the future of Dragonfly Farm, and it was a big responsibility. Everyone’s future, everyone’s dream. He felt for his phone in this pocket, the email he’d received yesterday afternoon. It hadn’t helped him at all.
Dusk had fallen over the farm, a gentle grey cloak that darkened to navy blue. Gabriel looked up at the stars, which seemed to shine more brightly here: thousands of tiny pinpricks spread across the sky.
‘Wow!’ he said. ‘In London the sky is grey sludge. We’re lucky if we can see the moon.’
‘We don’t have any light pollution,’ said Tabitha. ‘It’s one of the best places in the world to see stars. They’re not competing with anything.’
He remembered the constellations from when he was a young boy and felt excited as he started to identify them. ‘The Plough’ he said, pointing upwards. ‘And is that Orion’s Belt?’
‘Full marks,’ teased Tabitha. ‘We’ll make an astronomer of you yet.’
They wandered back into the kitchen. Lola was snuggled up in the old red chair with Plum and was reading to her from the collection of ‘Flower Fairies’ books Georgia had found her: they had been in the house for as long as anyone could remember.
‘We’re trying to see if there is a Plum fairy,’ said Lola. ‘But we haven’t found her yet. There’s an Apple Blossom fairy, though. And Rosehip. And Acorn.’
Plum was staring intently at the book, turning the pages, leaning into her mum, resting her head on her arm. She looked very much at home. Gabriel felt his heart swell with pride at the two of them: Lola looked the most relaxed he had seen her in a long time. In the lamplight her sharp bone structure looked softer; there was a slight curve to her cheekbones; her dark hair, usually pulled up into an elaborate bun, was falling around her face and onto her shoulders.
This was a happy place, he thought, looking about him at the glorious chaos, breathing in the smell of cooking, feeling the warmth of the wood-burning stove, listening to Jacques Brel trickling out of the radio on the kitchen top.
No one dressed for dinner. They were all in slippers and big socks and sloppy jumpers. There was no standing on ceremony. Tabitha pulled a side of beef out of the oven and left it on the side to rest, then lit all the candles on the table. Gabriel offered to carve, using the knife they now knew Matthew had ordered from him, and he felt a connection to the man as the slices of pink meat fell away onto the platter.
Over dinner, Lola sang for her supper, regaling Tabitha and Georgia with behind-the-scenes stories and snippets of indiscreet scandal which they lapped up, wide-eyed. She was at her best tonight, thought Gabriel.
Before she had time to finish her crumble, Plum’s lashes became heavy. She was almost asleep in her pudding.
‘She’s done amazingly,’ said Georgia, stroking the back of her head.
‘I’ll take her up to bed and tuck her in,’ said Lola.
But after twenty minutes she still hadn’t come down. Gabriel went upstairs to find her. She was tucked up in bed with Plum, her arms wrapped round her, fast asleep.
He put a gentle hand on her shoulder to wake her up.
‘Hey,’ he whispered. ‘Come back down. I’m going to tell them about Max.’
‘Oh God, sorry. It’s all that fresh air.’ She clambered out of the bed. ‘It’s very special, this place,’ she said to him as she tucked Plum’s ostrich under the little girl’s arm.
‘I know,’ he said.
They looked at each other. Then Lola shrugged. ‘But it’s like a holiday. It’s not real. It doesn’t fit into our lives. Does it?’
‘Not really,’ said Gabriel. Of course it didn’t. But could it?
Downstairs, Tabitha had put a big piece of Somerset brie out with a pot of pear chutney. Gabriel poured himself half an inch of golden cider brandy.
‘I got the DNA test back,’ he told Tabitha and Georgia, pulling up the email on his phone. He’d paid for the premium service: the one that promised results in forty-eight hours. ‘The results show the chances of me and Max Culbone being related are so small he can’t possibly be my grandfather.’
Tabitha and Georgia looked at the graph showing Gabriel and Max’s DNA.
‘So do you think that means … maybe Gum is?’ Tabitha managed at last.
Gabriel nodded. ‘Diana and Max were married at Rushbrook Church. And my mother was born not long after. A couple of years before Gum and Joy were married.’
‘So you think Gum and Diana might have had a fling? While she was engaged to Max?’
‘There’s something else that made me think it’s possible.’ Gabriel took out his phone. ‘My grandmother had this in her jewellery box.’
He passed them a photograph of the brooch, pinned to Diana’s sweater.
‘A dragonfly,’ said Georgia. ‘It can’t just be a coincidence, can it?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t think it’s worth much, but it was with all her valuable jewellery, so it must mean a lot to her.’
‘So Gum might have been involved with a Culbone. That’s scandalous!’ Tabitha’s eyes were wide with outrage. ‘No wonder he didn’t tell us.’
‘But how do we find out the truth?’ said Georgia. ‘None of this is actual proof and there’s no one left to ask.’
‘It’s obvious,’ said Lola. ‘Why don’t the three of you do a DNA test? They can tell if you’re cousins.’
Georgia frowned. ‘But is that what we’d be? It’s making my brain ache.’
‘Me too,’ said Tabitha.
‘Second cousins,’ said Gabriel. ‘If Gum was my grandfather and your great-uncle, then we’d share a great-grandfather. Which would make us second cousins.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve done some research which is how I’ve been able to figure it out. I’m not an expert on these things usually.’
Georgia and Tabitha looked at each other.
