‘And maybe it’s stacking the bales that…’
Tasha felt her breath stall.
‘What?’ Granny had said, shifting Hercules closer to her. ‘You think stacking a few bales of hay hastened his demise?’
‘No, no, of course not.’
Dad had gone white. Will was studying his astronomy book with such intensity that Tasha was sure he wasn’t really reading it.
‘It was doing things around the farm that kept him going. It was making sure that things were done properly, the way they always had been, which gave him a purpose. You mark my words, we’d have lost him long before if he hadn’t had that.’
Tasha watched under lowered lashes as Granny ferreted in her cardigan pocket for a handkerchief.
‘It’s not as if you have to haul the bales up there by hand like we used to when I was a girl,’ Rita huffed. ‘You’ve got that all-singing, all-dancing tractor now although goodness knows how we’re going to afford the payments.’
‘Well, maybe if Dad had invested more money in the machinery over the years, I wouldn’t have had to…’
Rita stood stock still. Tasha was sure all of the air had been sucked out of the room.
‘Don’t you dare criticise your father like that,’ she roared. ‘If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have a farm to run or a house to live in.’
‘A rather small house,’ Christabel muttered, ‘for a family of four.’
Granny looked as if she was about to spontaneously combust. Tasha stood up, her legs as wobbly as a newborn calf’s.
‘Stop it!’ she shouted at her parents. ‘Stop it. Leave Granny alone. This is her house, her farm.’
‘You would take her side,’ Christabel scolded.
She turned to Rita.
‘You have turned my daughter against me. I should stop her coming here. I should make her stay in our poky little bungalow which you and George actually built for yourselves, not that there’s any sign of you wanting to move in,’ Christabel said cuttingly. ‘Then you’d only be able to see Tasha through the window when she crosses the farmyard to do her chores.’
Rita sank heavily onto one of the chairs. Instantly Tasha had gone and draped her arms around Granny’s shoulders.
‘She will not do that, Granny. I won’t let her,’ she whispered.
Tasha stared directly over the top of Granny’s head towards her mother.
‘You will never, ever do that,’ she said. ‘And if you try, I’ll leave home.’
Now she sat in the loft and leaned her head back against a pillow of hay thankful for a few more moments of calm. People thought happiness was found in shiny new things or excitement. For Tasha the closest thing to happiness, apart from spending time with Erin at The Pottery or being wrapped in one of Granny’s loving hugs, was the peace she found up here. The woman in the cottage looked frail and drawn, but she hadn’t given her away. She could have. Most people would have done. Tasha couldn’t thank her enough.
FOUR
‘I’ve picked up some extra provisions,’ Carrie said, when she returned. ‘I’d done a food shop, but it was mainly enough for just you to start with.’
Jules sat at the kitchen table and watched Carrie unpack.
‘I’m sorry. I’m being such a nuisance.’
‘Of course you’re not,’ Carrie replied, placing a packet of risotto rice on the counter.
‘I bet Guy thinks that I am. You’ve only just moved in together and I’m here being pathetic and not wanting to spend a night on my own.’
‘You are not being pathetic, and he doesn’t mind. He’s going to have supper with his gran. They’re very close. She virtually brought him up.’
‘I remember you saying.’
