‘We’re not going unless we’re paid,’ said one of them. ‘In cash. As agreed.’
‘Doyou think one of us should go and see what Roy is doing?’ said Issi, standing as close to Tig as she could.
‘No,’ said Fran. ‘He’ll either find what he’s looking for or he’ll have to come and tell us he hasn’t found it.’
A pair of buzzards mewed high in the sky and tugged at Fran’s already damaged heart. How would she feel if she had to leave here? More to the point, how would Tig feel?
At last Roy came out of the house with a piece of paper in his hand. He thrust it at Fran. ‘Here. Have a read of that.’
It took her a few seconds to realise she was looking at a letter from Amy. It had been sent at the same time as the letter she had received when Amy was looking for someone to leave the farm to. She read it as quickly as she could given the faded ink and Amy’s handwriting.
Roy snatched the letter back before she’d quite finished reading it. ‘I’ll tell you what it says and I’ll read this bit aloud: …but because you are male, and I feel strongly that property should pass down the male line, I will leave the farm to you unless you turn out to be quite unsuitable.’
No one spoke.
‘Well, you are quite unsuitable,’ said Issi at last. ‘You don’t love the farm like Fran does. Amy would be mad to leave it to you. You’d sell your oldgrandmother,let alone some land in a country you don’t even want to live in.’
Roy gave her fake smile. ‘Amy never knew that. She was convinced I’d shed my last drop of blood to look after the place. It’s mine.’
‘But you still can’t sell the assets before we know for sure,’ said Fran. ‘And there’s probate to consider.’
‘And even if you could,’ said Tig, ‘I won’t give you the paperwork to move these beasts.’
‘You’ll have to, after the will has been read,’ said Roy.
‘It doesn’t change anything,’ said Fran, who was now feeling sick. ‘You can’t sell the cows now. I suggest you pay off the drivers and learn to be patient. It’s not long now until you’ll know for certain. Just don’t count your chickens – or should I say cows – until they’re hatched.’
Then she walked back into the house, her back straight, her guts churning, knowing her days on the farm she had come to really love were numbered.
ChapterTwenty-Five
A week had passed, and it was the morning of the funeral, and in spite of the sadness of the occasion that was to come and the possible – probable even – ghastly outcome to follow, Fran felt oddly positive.
She found Issi in the kitchen, making tea, looking anxious. Fran realised all over again that Issi had far more to lose than she did. Fran would be devastated to lose the farm but she had Antony, who had a house of his own. But Issi and Tig would be really stuck if it all went the wrong way.
‘How are you feeling, Is? And what about Tig?’
‘You know him; he’s not saying much but he’s worried. I don’t think he’s even worried for him – us – it’s the cows. They’re like family, almost. He knows them all, who their mothers and grandmothers were.’
Franput a quick hand on Issi’s arm. ‘I know Antony will find something for Tig – maybe even start a herd of cows himself. It’ll be all right.’
‘I know. But it won’t be the same.’
Fran smiled. ‘You never know. Perhaps Antony will buy the herd and Tig will keep his family.’
‘That would be good.’ Issi looked curiously at Fran. ‘I must say, I was expecting you to be much more gloomy about it all. I mean it’s great that you’re not, but why?’
‘It’s the hard cheese. Making it last week with Mary and Erica was so brilliant.’ Fran paused. ‘Apart from it being so satisfying and interesting, it was healing, us three women, working together, crying sometimes. And then we all walked up to the quarry together and put it in to mature.’
‘I’d forgotten when you did that,’ said Issi. ‘I was doing something with Tig, but that sounds lovely.’
‘It was. And it’s a sort of two fingers up to Roy. It’s there, in the quarry, waiting to mature, and he may never know about it. It should be turned every day for three weeks and if Roy’s still here in a year, I’ll come back in the dead of night and steal it.’
‘And I’ll come with you.’ Issi took out some bread. ‘Do you want toast? I had breakfast with Tig but I wanted to get dressed here with you. I have a selection of suitably gloomy items to choose from.’ She cut a slice of bread and put it in the toaster.‘Amyis very old-fashioned, not saying anything like “no black please”.’
‘She is – was – very old-fashioned in many ways. Wanting to leave the farm to a man, for example. But in other ways she was a trailblazer! Many women would have given up the farm when their husband died, or found another husband to run it for them.’ She sighed.
‘Did you get your eulogy written?’ asked Issi.
