Soon both women were seated with tea and a plate of biscuits between them, Fran started on her list of questions. Mrs Brown was calm and easy to talk to. Possibly Fran had passed some sort of test, but now Mrs Brown was an ally, Fran was sure.
‘Did you make the cheese at the farm, Mrs Brown? If so, which building?’
‘Weused to make it in the dairy, but it’s been a junk store for a while now. When my sister was ill, I had to go and look after her so Amy didn’t have anyone to make the cheese. She said she didn’t have time to make it herself.’ Mrs Brown frowned. ‘She didn’t quite have the knack, truth be told. She knew what to do but it never came out quite right.’
Fran remembered what John Radcliffe had said about there being magic involved. Maybe Amy didn’t have the right spell. ‘She told me about the quarry where you used to ripen it?’
Mrs Brown laughed. ‘Oh yes. The quarry. It wasn’t just a quarry obviously. It had a roof. But it was a good place for the cheese.’
‘So where is it, exactly?’
Mrs Brown shook her head. ‘She’ll tell you herself when she wants you to know. She’s always been very secretive about it. It goes back to the War when I think they hid bits of extra food up there. She only told me where it was when she found getting up there too much for her.’ Mrs Brown paused, putting an end to the subject of the quarry. ‘So, just how much about cheesemaking do you know?’
‘Nothing really. Except what I’ve learnt from making soft cheese.’
‘Well, it’s quite simple really. What you’ll need to do is find out what sort of state the old equipment is in.’
‘You wouldn’t make the cheese for me?’
MrsBrown laughed again. ‘No, no. I’ll help you, but I won’t do it for you. When it comes down to it, cheese is mostly washing up! There’s so much equipment that has to be washed and dried, sometimes it seems that’s all you do!’ She paused and became more serious. ‘I have my sister who’s not well who I have to visit quite often. Besides, it’s important that you do things for yourself, if you’re going to take over the farm.’
‘I may not. I may not have the opportunity if I don’t make a go of it.’
Mrs Brown looked anxious for a second. ‘But you want to make a go of it? You’re not just here for a little rural holiday?’
Fran laughed. ‘Sorry, but the thought of this being anything like a holiday is hilarious. There’s no phone signal, no shower, no central heating, the bed is as old as the house and less comfortable to sleep on. This is not a holiday!’
‘So why are you still here?’
Fran took a breath. It mattered to her that both Mrs Brown and Tig should understand why she was putting up with all the difficulties, the challenges, the anxieties, for a life that was pretty foreign to her, really. She searched for the words that would make it clear. She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure,’ was what she came out with. ‘I can’t really explain but although it’s so tough here, one way and another, I do love it. It feels right for me. I love thescenery,I love the way of life, I’ll get to love the cows – I’m sure I will, when I know a bit more about them. There’s no sensible answer, really. I just really want to make a go of it.’
Mrs Brown put her hand on hers. ‘Then that’s good enough for me.’ She cleared her throat. ‘One of the reasons Amy doesn’t want the farm sold, one of the many reasons, is that it will put Tig out of his home – I own this cottage but Tig is tied to the job. Oh, I suppose the new owner might keep him on, and if him-next-door—’
‘Antony Arlingham?’
‘Yes. If he bought it he probably would let Tig go on living here even if he sold her herd – but – well, Amy would turn in her grave if Antony bought it!’ Mrs Brown suddenly realised what she’d said. ‘If she was in it, I mean,’ she added, looking embarrassed.
Fran overlooked this faux pas. ‘But why would Amy react so badly? Antony seems a really nice guy.’
‘As I told you when we first met, it goes back to his grandfather’s time and Amy doesn’t forget. Or forgive, in this case.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. None of what happened all those years ago could be Antony’s fault.’
‘It’s not only that, it’s what he’d like to do with the farm. Some people say he’d turn it into a vineyard.’
Frannodded. He had connections with the wine trade, Seb had told her. Wouldn’t he have mentioned his plans to her? Apparently not. And while a vineyard would be so much better than a motorbike scrambling centre, which was one of the other suggestions, it would still be wrong.
Mrs Brown nodded. ‘It’s got the perfect sunny slopes you need.’
Fran realised Mrs Brown was right; it was a possibility. ‘It would be dreadful for the land to be ploughed when it never has been, for the structure of the soil to be changed after hundreds of years.’ (She’d done a bit of internet searching about ancient pasture since Issi had told her how important it was.)
‘Exactly.’ They had both finished their tea and Fran felt it was time to go.
Back in her own kitchen, Fran emailed Antony thanking him for his kindness the day before. She went on:
I will come and collect the pheasants and grouse as soon as I can arrange to make the pastry etc. (I may have to buy a food processor.) As I may have mentioned, I do plan to have a supper club (when people invite strangers to dinner in their homes and they pay what they think is appropriate, just in case you’re unfamiliar with theconcept).I’ll get my friend Issi down from London to help me.
Thank you for everything,
