‘You’ll have to ask her that, but I think it was during the war. My grandfather was something to do with the Ministry of Agriculture. Amy accused him of telling people about the farm. Had things gonedifferentlyAmy and her husband would have had to plough their pasture to grow vegetables, or other crops.’
‘But that didn’t happen?’
‘No. I think the fields were too small and steep.’
‘So why the grudge?’
Antony shot Fran a look she couldn’t interpret. ‘I think Amy and my grandfather may have had a bit of a thing for each other.’
‘But they were both married!’ Fran was shocked.
‘No, no, long before that. I don’t know who broke up with whom but it obviously wasn’t great.’
Fran smiled. ‘Maybe Amy preferred her husband’s farm to your grandfather’s?’
Antony shrugged. ‘Anyway, it’s water long under the bridge. We just have to hope that Amy won’t slap my face and refuse to get into the car.’
The thought of tiny Amy, leaping the couple of feet necessary to reach Antony’s face, or possibly climbing on a stool, made Fran smile.
Amy was in a wheelchair, waiting, when they arrived. She was excited but also a little frosty. Fran, wanting to avoid any awkwardness, hurried to greet her.
‘Hello, Amy. Are you prepared for this?’
‘I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss. I’m only going home for a day,’ she said crisply.
‘But I explained about the quad bike? It’s so you can see the fields and things. Antony is going to drive you. Let me introduce him to you—’
‘I know who he is, thank you.’
Antony,who had followed Fran more slowly, said, ‘I am very pleased to see you again, Mrs Flowers. It’s been a long time since we last met.’
Amy gave him a stiff little nod.
It took a while and a lot of patience to get Amy into the car. Fran held on to her stick, her handbag and her walker and eventually Amy was in the front seat. The walker went into the capacious boot. Then Fran got in the back of the car and Antony set off.
Fran’s instinct was to make polite conversation but she sensed Amy was not in the mood for small talk. Antony took them the scenic route, which he had obviously thought Amy would appreciate. But no. In contrary mood (which made Fran’s heart sink a bit) she said, ‘Why are you going this way? It’s far quicker up the main road.’
‘True,’ said Antony calmly. ‘I just thought you’d like a bit of scenery on your way. This way you can see the bluebells in Winfield Wood.’
‘I’ve seen more than enough bluebells in my life, thank you. I just want to get home.’
Fran began to fret. Supposing Amy was horrified by the changes she’d made to the house? Knocking out the fireplace? Putting away a lot of the ornaments and photographs? She and Issi had put back a few of the best photos but had agreed that Amy wouldn’t mind a bit of decluttering. Now Fran wondered if she’d got it all wrong and Amy would be devastated to see her old home so altered.
Ithad been decided that Amy should come into the house and have a light lunch before setting off across the fields.
Antony and Fran got her into the wheelchair and trundled her through the yard towards the back door.
‘Wait!’ she said. ‘Let me look at everything!’
After a little while Fran realised that Amy was nervous too. She didn’t know what she was going to find and her beloved farm could have fallen into disrepair. She put the brake on the chair and let Amy look about her.
Tig emerged from the cowshed and came over. ‘All right, Amy?’
‘Tig,’ Amy replied.
‘Shall I bring you Flora’s calf to have a look at?’ he said. He looked at Fran. ‘She’s the mother of the calf you saw being born.’
‘That would be nice,’ said Amy.
