‘Oh,I’ll just wrap up the rest and you can take it with you,’ said Fran, running to the kitchen before Mrs Brown could decline the offer. She felt she needed to keep Mrs Brown on side.
After Mrs Brown’s outer garments and boots had been returned to her and she had been ushered out with as much gushing as Fran thought they could all cope with, Fran looked at Issi. ‘Let’s put on our wellies and inspect the farm. I need to know what I’m facing. Although I know it’s still raining.’
‘Are you feeling a bit overwhelmed?’ asked Issi.
‘Mmm. I’m determined to do it but it is a big thing.’
‘It’s a massive thing,’ Issi agreed. ‘But if anyone can do it, you can.’
Fran handed Issi her parka. ‘Thanks, Is. It would be a lot easier if you didn’t have to go home tomorrow, but your faith in me makes it seem possible. Now pass me my boots, there’s a love.’
As they went out of the back door Issi said, ‘I don’t expect this yard has seen Cath Kidston wellies before.’
Fran looked at her feet. ‘Maybe I’d better get some proper farmer boots.’
‘Not until those are worn out,’ said Issi.
‘True. I’ve only got that thousand pounds from Amy to live on, and run the farm. Apart from a bit of money of my own that’s all there is.’
Theywalked out of the small enclosed yard that Fran had already furnished with flowers and decorative items in her head. Now she could properly inspect the outbuildings. They peered through the dirty windows.
‘The buildings seem in fairly good order,’ commented Issi. ‘But nothing’s happened in them for years.’
Fran tried a door and found it opened. ‘Absolutely full of stuff,’ she said after a few seconds. ‘And I bet if I did gussy up the farmyard, I’d find everything I’d want as decorative items right here.’
‘What’s that?’ asked Issi, pointing to something that looked like a press of some kind. ‘Do you think it’s for cider?’
‘If it is it explains why it hasn’t been used for years,’ said Fran. ‘The nurse in the care home told me Amy was a strict teetotaller.’
‘Look at those wonderful scales!’ said Issi. ‘This is fascinating.’
‘Let’s not get sidetracked,’ said Fran. ‘I really want to see Tig before he disappears off somewhere.’
‘Let’s do that,’ said Issi. ‘This stuff will wait, after all.’
They went through the gate out of the yard and into the short lane that led to the cow byre. Fran looked for Tig, keen to introduce herself, but there was no one about, only the cows.
‘We’ve missed him,’ said Fran.
‘Wemight find him later,’ said Issi. ‘In the meantime, there are the special, aristocratic cows with the wonderful pedigree.’
Fran looked at them dubiously. They were in a large, chilly barn and they were chewing and looking at her. They were very large and had horns.
‘No prizes for guessing what they’re thinking,’ said Fran. ‘That we’re two right old townies wearing really silly wellies.’
‘They’re very handsome though, aren’t they?’ said Issi. ‘I love the way the red and the white mingle. Would you call that that “dappled”?’
‘They’re Dairy Shorthorns,’ said Fran. ‘Amy told me. I must google them, when we get back in, see what I can find out.’
‘That might be a bit difficult,’ said Issi. ‘There doesn’t seem to be an internet connection at the farm. I tried when you were visiting your old lady.’
The thought of being without an internet connection gave Fran a nasty pang. ‘Oh God, well, I’ll have to sort that out. But let’s carry on round. I think the rain is easing off a bit.’
‘Really?’ said Issi, obviously not convinced.
They had walked for half an hour and were standing at the top of a field that swept down to a stream. Beyond the field was a row of trees, more trees and hills past that, and then the river, and beyond that the mountains of Wales.
‘Iknow I’m sounding boring now,’ said Issi, ‘but I think this is the most beautiful spot on earth. The view is great from the farmhouse but up here, it’s even better.’
