As they set off up the drive to the house (remarkably smooth, she noted) she said, ‘What are Caroline and Julian like? Will I get on with them?’
‘I hardly know you well enough to be able to tell but they are fairly relaxed. And it’s only going to be a very small dinner. Eight at the most,’ Antony said.
‘Quite a lot of cars, for eight people,’ said Fran as they arrived.
‘Hm,’ said Antony, finding possibly the last space. ‘I didn’t think we were late, either. We must be the last to arrive.’
Thedoor was opened by a woman wearing a flour-covered apron and a brave smile. She did not look relaxed at all. Her husband appeared seconds later.
‘Hi, Antony,’ said the woman, who Fran assumed was Caroline. ‘And you must be Fran. Do come in! Let me take your coats. You’re safe to take them off – we’ve had the wood burner going all day.’ She embraced them both.
‘It’s very kind of you to invite me,’ said Fran. ‘I’ve brought a little gift – it’s in this cool box.’
‘It can’t be that little then,’ said Julian. ‘That’s a big box.’
‘But it’s a small present,’ said Fran firmly, ‘and please don’t look at it now. Put it in the kitchen for later. It’s edible.’
‘Fran was a chef in her previous life,’ explained Antony.
‘I’m a farmer now,’ she said, giving him a dark look.
‘Well, come in and have a drink before you die of thirst,’ said Julian. ‘Here, just sling your coats with the others on that sofa.’
The pile of coats represented far more that eight guests, Fran couldn’t help thinking, even if Caroline and Julian kept their coats there too.
They were ushered into a room full of people. Fran’s heart sank slightly. Obviously all the locals had persuaded Caroline and Julian to let them have a look at the girl from London who was taking over old Amy Flowers’ farm.
‘OhGod, Julian, can you do the introductions?’ said Caroline, sounding harassed. ‘I’ll forget everyone’s names and I’m needed in the kitchen.’
Fran would have loved to be able to follow Caroline; in the kitchen she could be useful. Here she was just going to be stared at.
Julian did well with the introductions, not forgetting anyone’s name, and then said, ‘More important than this lot – what would you like to drink?’
‘Julian makes a fabulous gin and tonic if you’re not driving,’ suggested one woman who Fran remembered was called Poppy.
‘I’m not driving,’ Fran said. ‘A G and T would be lovely.’
When she’d been given her drink, which, the first sip told her, was indeed fabulous, and pretty strong, Poppy led the way to a group of women.
‘You must think we’re all complete ghouls,’ said Poppy, ‘all desperate to get a look at you, but we’re so intrigued to meet you.’
‘We don’t get much entertainment in the country,’ said a woman who was a bit older than Poppy, possibly in her forties. ‘I’m Erica, in case you’ve forgotten. I would have. I think people should wear name badges on all occasions.’
Fran laughed and felt less anxious. ‘That would make life easier, but at least the gin is helping.’
‘A bit of alcohol does make it all seem less daunting,’ agreed Erica. ‘I don’t think Caroline has let herself havemorethan a sip of wine though. She’s not used to catering for so many. She should have said no to us, when we all begged to be invited to meet the new girl.’
‘I feel I should go and help,’ said Fran. ‘At least I know how to cook, even if I’m very new to farming. I might be quite useful.’
Poppy shook her head. ‘She wouldn’t want a trained professional seeing the state her kitchen is in. She’s not a tidy cook.’
‘I completely understand,’ said Fran.
‘And not only are you an object of interest because you’ve come from London to live on a derelict farm,’ said one woman, a bit younger and noticeably more fashionably dressed than the others, ‘but because you’ve come with Antony, our only Mr Darcy-alike!’
‘But, Megan, you are the only one who’s single,’ said Erica. She sounded a bit irritated. ‘So there’s not massive competition for him.’
‘Unless we’ve all been misinformed, Fran is single too,’ said Megan.
