Sennen glanced at her brother. ‘Already did.’
Later, when the cake was half eaten, the sun slipping into the horizon, and the Prosecco bottles mostly empty, Rita found Thom standing at the edge of the orchard, facing the fields and the wide shimmering stretch of sea beyond.
She walked towards him quietly. ‘Did you get some cake?’
He nodded, not turning. Just stared out over the trees now promising their crops of apples, pears and plums. A lone gull passed overhead, reminding them they were very much in the moment.
‘I’m sorry,’ Thom said eventually, his voice low. ‘I’ve been a bit of a mess since… everything. And I can’t even imagine how much I’ve hurt you.’
Rita breathed in slowly. ‘Let’s sit.’
They sat on the bench seat at the end of the orchard. Thom took a visible breath. ‘I’ve avoided the farm because it reminded me too much of Dad.’
‘I understand.’ Rita reached for his hands across the table, and he let her hold them.
‘I didn’t know how to talk about him orJago. The will. Any of it. And then after me sending that letter to you… and Sennen letting me know about Teo… well, even with your message to come today… it was just… easier not to call.’
Rita looked at him, properly looked, and saw the little boy he used to be, wild-haired, fiercely loyal, and now pouring out a heart that had always seemed too big for his chest. Her Thomas was back.
‘Thom, it’s OK,’ Rita soothed.
‘No. It’s not, Mum, let me finish. I knew too much. A few years ago, I overheard a conversation between Dad and another man. Dad had his phone on speaker… he was in the barn… he didn’t know I was outside… and I listened… and I wish I hadn’t. And I didn’t really understand what it was about, until Dad died and then I realised that someone else may be getting some of our share – mine and Sennen’s, and I didn’t think it fair. And I so appreciate you emailing me the will, to put it straight and…’
Rita sighed deeply. This wasn’t the time to tell Thomas that he had another uncle in Jago and that he had been the other man at the end of the phone. ‘And when you saw Jago that time I spotted you… was it really that the sheep had escaped?’
‘Yes, yes, that was all true. Jago didn’t say a word to me. Nobody is planning to take the farm from under you. I’ve ended all the solicitor representation. I’m such a twat!’
‘It broke me.’ Rita couldn’t help it. ‘To know my son was trying to oust me out of my own house.’
‘Please don’t,’ Thom begged. ‘I realise now I didn’t really want the money, or for you to sell. I just didn’t want a complete stranger getting something, especially as I realised that you probably knew nothing about it. I just want to know that you’re OK. That we’re OK. I love you, Mum, and I’m going to come and see you more. I promise.’
‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’ Rita was more measured now.
‘I haven’t been the best son, I know that. I’m driven, my job is important and when Dad went… I couldn’t face it here. I miss him so much, so I can’t even imagine what it’s like for you.’
Rita thought of not being able to walk into the big lounge for nine months. ‘I get it. I really do. And we’re OK. Even when we’re messy. You’re my son, for God’s sake.’
Thomas hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small jewellery box. He held it out to her, voice thick. ‘I… I know it’s silly, but I wanted you to have this.’
Rita blinked, confused. He opened it, revealing a delicate necklace sparkling in the fading light, an exact replica of the one Archie had given her for her thirtieth birthday, lost in the mud months ago. Her throat tightened.
‘Dad would have done the same,’ Thom said, voice breaking, eyes glistening. ‘I just… I wanted you to have it.’
Rita felt tears sting, warm and sudden. She took the box and pressed it to her chest. ‘Oh, Thom… We will never forget him, love. He will always be part of us.’
Thom got up, lifted his mum off the bench seat, then surprised them both by pulling her into a tight bear hug. A hug that didn’t ask for anything other than his mother’s love.
FIFTY
It was just after ten the next day when Stan turned up at the farm, unannounced as ever, in his usual uniform of sun-faded cords and an old jumper, despite it being twenty-five degrees. He stood in the kitchen doorway with a paper bag in hand. Everyone else was still in bed, he assumed, since the celebrations hadn’t finished until the early hours.
‘Mrs Jory. I’ve brought you a slice of Mrs Bodkin’s bread and butter pudding and a nudge, as I’m thinking you might need both this morning.’
Rita stopped loading the dishwasher and laughed. ‘You’re so right. Far too much fun was had by all. And what do you mean by a nudge?’
He stepped inside and set the bag on the table. ‘Might be worth taking a walk up to the Singing Tree, that’s all I’m saying.’
Her heart did a tiny somersault. ‘Why?’
