A home from home, p.26
A Home From Home, page 26
Chris reached out and took her hand in his. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That means the world to me.’
‘And Mum – I can’t believe what you went through. And poor Tarka.’ Georgia stopped. She had questions, but they were not for now. They were for a day with just her and Nicola together. She was curious, of course she was, but she was mindful of Chris’s feelings. Today was about the three of them, not about ghosts.
Chris cleared his throat. The emotion was all a bit much for him. ‘I think I’ll get the case in from the car.’
Georgia was giving them her bed for the night and sleeping in her little study. It was too far for them to drive straight back home. She watched him as he left the room, smiling fondly at his retreating back, his rumpled clothes, his scruffy hair. Her dad.
‘Thank you for being so kind,’ said Nicola. ‘Though I knew you would be.’
Georgia frowned. ‘It’s all so complicated, isn’t it? There are so many people involved. For me, the only one who really matters is Dad. As long as he knows how much I love him.’
‘I agree, that’s the most important thing. But do you want to tell anyone else? Tab?’
Georgia put her hands behind her head, pulling her hair up and clasping her fingers together. She sat like that for a few moments while she thought.
‘It’s all or nothing,’ she said. ‘Either we tell no one, or everyone. And I’ve got a feeling it would be best to have everything out in the open. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life worrying about letting it slip by accident. And it’s not as if anyone has done anything wrong. You and Tarka were so young. It was an awful situation. No one has anything to be ashamed of.’
‘I did what I thought was right at the time. And I was so lucky to have your father. I couldn’t have managed without him. And you have brought us such joy.’
Georgia walked over to the fridge.
‘I need to think it through for a while before we make any decisions about who to tell.’
‘Of course. It’s been a secret for long enough. A little while longer won’t hurt. Though there are Tarka’s parents to consider too.’
Nicola remembered Clara, beautiful, glacial Clara, who had so clearly worshipped her son and feared for him. And her worst nightmare had come true.
‘I was saving this,’ said Georgia, pulling a bottle of champagne out of the fridge. ‘For when I finished writing my first episode, but I think we need a glass now.’
She opened the bottle and poured a glass for her mother. As Chris walked back in she handed him a glass too.
‘What are we celebrating?’ he asked.
Georgia held her own glass up.
‘I want to propose a toast. To Tarka, the father I never knew. And to my real dad. My proper one hundred per cent real father.’
Chris was openly crying now. ‘It’s happy tears,’ he said, half laughing. ‘I never cry, for heaven’s sake. I’m a scientist. I don’t get emotional.’
Nicola laughed. ‘He’s such a fibber. He bawled his eyes out the day you were born.’
The three of them clinked glasses.
And in his head, Chris did an extra little toast to Tarka, the man who had given him the centre of his universe but who’d never had a chance to meet her himself.
35
After they got back from their trip to Dragonfly Farm, Gabriel noticed a change in Lola over the next week. She was quieter than usual, more reflective. Not depressed, but she seemed weighed down by her thoughts. It was time for them to sit down and have a proper conversation. They’d avoided talking about the future of Dragonfly Farm, because in their hearts they both knew the answer. They’d had a wonderful time there. They both understood how special it was. But it was time to get real.
He sighed. ‘Let’s do one of those spreadsheets,’ he said. ‘Pros and cons. Put all the figures in.’
He pulled out a chair for her and sat down next to her at the table. She looked nervous, chewing on the side of her thumbnail.
‘What? What is it?’
‘There’s something you need to know before we start. And I know it might feel as if I’m trying to hijack the situation, but I think the one thing we both want is another baby.’
‘Yes. Of course it is.’ He’d never been in any doubt.
‘So I think we should go and see someone.’
‘See someone?’
‘Just for a consultation. I’ve had a recommendation for a fertility specialist who’s treated a few of my friends. I think it would be a good idea to have a few tests. See if there’s anything obvious.’
Gabriel nodded. ‘OK. Well, we can certainly go for a consultation. That won’t do any harm.’
‘Then if there is something wrong, we can start treatment. I know it would be expensive, but if we can get help, then why not?’
‘Let’s see what the specialist says. There might not be a problem.’
‘No, but if there is, we can start straight away.’
Gabriel nodded. It was all moving rather fast, but what could he say? She was right. If there was a problem, they could get help. It was better than this cycle of hope and disappointment, and the frustration and the worry.
‘Then there’s this.’ She pulled her iPad towards them and brought up the details of a house on the screen. ‘It’s a bit further out from here but it’s really cute. And it has a workshop. And three bedrooms. Which, if we have another baby, we’ll need.’
Gabriel looked at the details. It was the sweetest little house, with an old stone workshop at the bottom of the garden.
‘You want to move?’
‘I’ve been thinking and thinking and thinking. I loved Dragonfly Farm. Of course I did. It would be wonderful if we could keep it, as a weekend place. But we can’t afford to. This way, we get everything we want.’ Lola started to list on her fingers. ‘Another baby, hopefully. A place you can work where you’re not paying extortionate rent. We get to keep our friends nearby. Plum doesn’t have to change nurseries and the baby can go there too. I can still work, but I won’t have to take every job that comes along …’
Gabriel started to nod. If she had outlined this scenario to him a couple of months ago, he would have jumped at it.
She looked over at him. ‘Please don’t think I’m being controlling or manipulative. I’m trying to stand back from it all and get us the life we really want. I know you’ll feel that you’re letting Tabitha and Georgia down, but this is your inheritance, to do what you want with.’
‘I know you’re right,’ said Gabriel. ‘But it breaks my heart a little bit.’
‘I know, baby. But you know what? Those girls are smart. They’ll figure it out. Maybe they’ll be able to get a mortgage? They have loads of equity in that farm. They’ll have to make it work for them.’ She scrolled through the house details on the iPad. ‘I know I sound hard, but I haven’t got where I am without having to fight and make tough choices.’
She looked at him and he saw she was about to cry.
‘And I can’t take much more of the hoping and the waiting. I need to do something. I’m not leaving it to chance.’
He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. It was because he didn’t want her to see his own tears. They were there for all sorts of reasons. Sadness that he hadn’t yet been able to give her what she wanted so much: another baby. Regret that he was going to turn his back on people he felt drawn to. Frustration that Dragonfly Farm was going to slip through his fingers when he had seen so much potential. Shame that they were going to get everything they wanted, perhaps at the expense of Tabitha and Georgia.
But he knew Lola was right. And he knew that if he dug his heels in and fought for something different, they might fall apart. And he didn’t want that.
He put his hand over hers. He didn’t want her to feel as if she was forcing him into something he didn’t want to do.
‘You’re totally right,’ he said. ‘Book a viewing. Book the consultant. And let’s get this on the market. I’ll tell the Melchiors.’
He walked away before he could change his mind.
It was with a heavy heart that he arranged to go down to Somerset a few days later for a meeting with Thomas Bickleigh and Tabitha, to sign the paperwork for the impending probate that was edging its way towards completion. The farm had been valued – the best of three valuations from local estate agents – and he was surprised at its worth. But he felt sick that the high value meant Tabitha and Georgia couldn’t afford to buy him out. They would probably have to sell.
The drive down to Somerset was gloomy and grey. A persistent rain had set in, making visibility on the motorway poor, and the little roads that led to Rushbrook were shrouded in mizzle. He had arranged to pick Tabitha up from Dragonfly Farm so they could go in together. He felt like a traitor as he turned into the drive.
For a moment, he felt furious with Gum. Why had he embroiled him in this? Gabriel would never have known, would have carried on in blissful ignorance, if he’d left him out of the will and left the farm to Tabitha and Georgia to share. Gum might have salved his conscience, or repaid some lifelong debt with his gesture, but it was causing more trouble than if he hadn’t bothered. They still hadn’t solved the mystery, but there was little point now.
The farm looked different from the last time he had been. The branches were bare of fruit now. Spindly and grey, they reached up into an even greyer sky. The wind whipped across from the east, malicious, causing doors to bang shut unexpectedly.
November had arrived to extinguish the optimism of October: those bright days made for squirreling and gathering and storing. November reminded you to make repairs and batten down the hatches. November was Eeyore, gloomy and dreary and doom-laden.
Poe was barking at everything in a fit of uncharacteristic bad temper. The hens wouldn’t come out of their coop. Zorro was nowhere to be seen. Every creature with any sense was snuggled up keeping warm.
Except Tabitha. Tabitha was in the orchard, trying to get on with the arduous task of pruning now the last of the harvest was finished. She knew this was the optimum time to get the trees into shape, to cut out the clutter to let in the light so the sun could touch the fruit next year. But it was hard work, in the wind and the cold. She had wrapped up as warmly as she could, but she found it impossible to prune wearing gloves.
As Gabriel arrived her fingers were starting to go numb, so she threw the last of the branches she had snipped down to the ground and climbed down the ladder to greet him.
‘It’s bloody Baltic,’ she said.
He should be helping her, he thought. He wanted to help her. He loved the idea of removing any dead or damaged wood to keep the trees healthy; learning how they grew and helping them to maximise their crop. He so much wanted to be part of this process.
But the orchards would be nothing to do with him now. He was going to cut himself off from the dream. Melchior Cider was heading into his past as quickly as it had arrived.
Tabitha took one look at his face and frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘I’m really sorry, Tabitha.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground. ‘Lola and I have had to make a difficult decision.’
‘You want your share of Dragonfly Farm.’ Tabitha’s voice was flat.
‘I’m so sorry. I’d give anything to hold on to it and be part of Melchior Cider with you. But we’ve been trying for another baby for nearly a year now.’ He paused, struggling to find the right words. ‘We’re going to a specialist. If we do need treatment, it will be expensive. We don’t know how many attempts we might need.’
He felt like a traitor. He felt as if he was using emotional blackmail to explain his decision, for how could Tabitha object to his argument without looking like a monster? It was all true though, he reminded himself. He wasn’t making it up.
Tabitha looked back down at the orchard. At the trees she was nurturing. She knew how each of them grew, every twisted trunk, the thickness of every branch.
‘You know this means we’ll probably have to sell. Neither me nor Georgia have got the money to buy you out. Not even close.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ Gabriel didn’t know what to say. ‘Honestly, if we could afford to keep it, we would. I love it here. I’d love to get involved with the cider making. All your ideas are wonderful. We’d have made a great team. But …’
He shrugged helplessly. Tabitha looked at him.
‘Family comes first,’ she said.
‘Yes,’ said Gabriel, relieved she understood.
‘I guess that’s what Gum was thinking when he left you your share. That he was doing what was best for his family. Though we’ll never know now. There’s not much point in doing a DNA test, as it doesn’t seem to matter. Our side of the family doesn’t seem to count for anything.’
Her words cut him more than she could possibly know. She walked past him, her pruning knife still in her hand. Poe slunk past him too, looking up reproachfully.
‘You better see Mr Bickleigh on your own. I’ll sign the paperwork another time.’
And she walked away without even saying goodbye.
Gabriel was left standing in the orchard. He felt gutted. He had effectively ruined Tabitha and Georgia’s future, while securing his own. What sort of a person did that?
He didn’t want to think about the lucky people who would end up with Dragonfly Farm. Probably a couple like him and Lola who would renovate it lovingly. Maybe they’d even go into business making cider and make a small fortune. He would see a feature on them in the weekend papers and think That could have been us.
He walked back up to the yard. The wind whipped into his face, vicious, bringing tears to his eyes. He wiped them away with his sleeve and climbed into the car. He drove back down the drive without looking back.
36
Tabitha hid in the house until Gabriel had gone. She couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. He was a traitor. He’d played her like a fool, pretending to be interested in all her ideas, encouraging her, making her believe in herself and the farm’s future.
After she heard his car pull away, she went back out into the yard, walking into the barn. She’d pictured the farm in two years’ time, the new orchard coming into fruit, new machinery installed, gleaming bottles of sparkling cider waiting to complete their fermentation before being sent off to weddings, landmark birthdays, anniversaries …
Joy would have become synonymous with celebration and happiness. Now her dream was never going to see the light of day. Someone else would realise it. It was all there, waiting for someone to make it happen.
Form an orderly queue, she thought wryly. In a few weeks’ time no doubt there would be potential buyers traipsing through the house and grounds while she looked on. She saw Zorro peering down at her. Tears blinded her. What would happen to Zorro when someone bought this place? Would whoever bought it tear down all the old farm buildings? They were pretty ramshackle, though she could imagine some sort of expensive renovation job done on them, all glass and exposed beams. Either way, it wouldn’t stay how it had been for the past century
She felt a surge of anger. This place had been her sanctuary. It had saved her. She was in no doubt she would have come to a sticky end if Gum and Joy hadn’t taken her in. She had been wild and out of control. She had thought she would be safe for ever here. Now she was going to be cast out onto the street, she thought melodramatically. Yes, she’d get some money from the sale, but she guessed it would only be enough to buy a small flat in Nettleford, some anonymous little dwelling on the outskirts. She wouldn’t wake up to the view over the orchards any more. She walked over to the fence and leaned on it, gazing at the trees she had nurtured, that Joy had nurtured, that her ancestors had nurtured. Joseph Melchior had probably planted the first one when he had arrived. What would he think if he saw it now?
She could see, over the tops of the trees, a murmuration of starlings gather. This was the first she had seen this year. They began to swoop in, hovering over the reed beds in the distance, thousands and thousands of black specks peppering the sky. She watched as they swirled in a graceful torrent, ebbing and flowing in tune with some hidden piper, an extraordinary feat of nature. More and more joined the cluster, choreographed with precision, each single bird focused on its own trajectory, gliding in and out, never seeming to collide.
She began to feel calmer. It was a lesson in life, this display. A lesson that while everything changed it nevertheless stayed the same; that everyone was on their own path but had to take into account what was around them.
She shivered as the sky grew dark and the birds seemed to melt away, though no doubt they were roosting in the trees below, ready to start another day.
‘Hey.’
She nearly jumped out of her skin as Dash came up behind her.
‘You scared me!’
‘Sorry. I did call but you didn’t answer.’
‘Oh – I haven’t got my phone on me.’
‘Did you see the birds?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Amazing. I’ve never seen anything like that before.’
‘Oh. It’s a thing down here. People come for miles to watch.’
‘They do?’
‘The murmurations …’
‘Sounds like a band name.’
She tried to smile at his joke. He frowned.
‘What’s up?’
She thought she probably shouldn’t be divulging her business when she hadn’t even had time to discuss it with Georgia yet. But she hadn’t the heart to call her cousin yet. She wanted to feel robust when they spoke, not crushed.
‘So,’ she said, ‘it turns out that Gabriel – your great-uncle’s interloping descendant – has decided he wants his money out.’ As soon as she spoke, she knew she sounded bitter. Well, she was bitter. ‘Where am I supposed to get that kind of money from? Because although the farm’s tumbling down around our ears, it turns out to be worth quite a bit. Just the kind of doer-upper that every bloody artisan hipster in London wants to flee to. Except Gabriel Culbone.’
