‘In other words, Mrs Flowers is a distant cousin, a couple of times removed.’
To Fran’s huge relief, Mr Addison, the solicitor, a kind, tired man in his fifties, finally summed up the complex relationship that involved different generations and marriages.
‘What do you think I should call her when we meet?’ asked Fran, who was getting nervous at the thought of meeting a woman who, although very elderly now, had apparently been formidable in her time.
‘She’lllet you know, don’t you worry about that,’ said Mr Addison. ‘Now let’s go through the finances a bit. Mrs Flowers has arranged six months of care in her home. She has set up an account with a thousand pounds in it for your use. There is a bit more money but I’d honestly prefer you didn’t encroach on it. Although Mrs Flowers is very well looked after and frail, she may need more than six months’ care, which is going to be expensive.’
‘But in an emergency?’
‘You can apply to me.’
‘And what about wages for the herdsman, and other people who work for her?’
‘There are a couple of relief milkers employed as and when they’re needed, and their wages are all arranged too. For six months.’
‘But she wants me to stay for a year? What happens after the first six months? In July?’
He shrugged. ‘I think she hopes the farm will be earning money by then.’
Fran noted his careful choice of words. ‘You mean, it’s not making money at the moment?’
Mr Addison sighed. ‘Mrs Flowers has been slowing down for a while. Things have been let slip.’
‘So I’m not taking on a going concern. Things are in a bad way?’
‘I wouldn’t say a bad way; just not a desperately profitable way.’
Whenshe’d first heard about it Fran had thought it was a romantic, dramatic idea to have been brought in to look after the family farm, but she was no longer quite so sure.
‘Is that you being tactful?’ said Fran. ‘You would tell me the truth, wouldn’t you?’
Mr Addison’s expression closed down. ‘I have to act in my client’s best interest. I’m sure you’re going to do a good job.’ He stood up. Fran realised he’d explained everything to the best of his ability but he obviously felt he could do no more.
‘What happens if it turns out I’m afraid of cows?’
He shook his head and smiled. He obviously thought Fran was making a joke. ‘I’m sure we don’t need to worry about that.’
*
When Fran arrived at the care home, she’d anticipated it taking her a while to explain why she had come. But no, everyone knew exactly who she was. And for the first time that day she wondered if she was dressed right. When she’d got up, after a night disturbed by an uncomfy mattress and strange noises, she’d just put on the clothes she’d worn the previous day, more concerned with getting down the drive, finding the solicitor and then the care home than how she looked. Now she wondered if leggings, boots and a tunic that revealed quite a lot of leg was acceptable.
Still,it was too late to worry about it now. She was following a care worker down a carpeted corridor, her boots scuffing against the pile.
The nurse stopped and opened a door. ‘Mrs Flowers? It’s your young relative.’
The room wasn’t huge but it was bright and sunny. There were pictures on the walls and the furniture would have fitted into the décor of the farmhouse. Fran went into the room, not sure what to say.
‘Hello – Aunt – Cousin – Mrs Flowers …’ She paused. The old lady was sitting on a chair, looking very neat and upright.
‘Better make it “Amy”, dear,’ she said crisply. ‘Otherwise I might die before you decide what my name is. And sit down, do.’
Fran sat and inspected her companion. Her eyes were bright and blue and shone out from a pink, slightly weathered complexion. Her thin grey hair was twisted into a knot on top of her head. She wore a long tweed skirt and a neatly ironed white blouse with a lace collar. She seemed bright, cheerful and well cared for. She had obviously chosen her care home well.
‘Hello, Amy, it’s lovely to meet you finally,’ Fran said, sensing it was important that she appeared confident, even if she was anything but. The meeting with the solicitor had turned a year learning about farming and a bit of an adventure into a huge undertaking loaded with responsibility and concern.
Amynodded, possibly with approval. ‘Well, dear, I’m very glad you came. I didn’t want my farm to go to rack and ruin while I’m in here.’
‘But you realise I don’t know very much about farming, don’t you?’ Amy obviously wasn’t the sort of person who appreciated ‘how are you’ conversations, so Fran got on with what was on her mind.
