Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: Flower Farm Read online

  Just then, Adam walked across the yard and joined Jess on the edge of the top field. ‘The gig’s coming along. Where’s Will?’

  Jess rolled her eyes. ‘This is turning into a game. I should produce a book: Where’s Will?’

  ‘Hold on, that sounds like him,’ said Adam, pointing towards a figure marching from the rear of the equipment storage shed. A familiar voice carried on the air to them.

  ‘No, bloody hell. Next week? That’s all I need. You have to come sooner than that?’

  Adam grinned. ‘I think we’ve found him.’

  Will’s voice grew louder, clearly giving some unfortunate supplier the hairdryer treatment down the phone. He’d stopped outside the door of an outbuilding used by the flower picking staff for breaks. ‘I can’t wait for an engineer until then. It’ll be disastrous for my crop. You have to come out. Charter a plane if you have to …’

  ‘Yes, but where’s Gaby got to?’ Jess crossed back into the yard but Gaby had vanished. ‘Oh God, I hope she hasn’t decided to go home already.’

  Adam joined her. ‘She won’t. She’s tougher than she looks. Look, there she is.’

  Gaby emerged from behind a hedge just as Will strode across the yard, his phone clamped to one ear, the other hand gesticulating wildly.

  ‘Len!’ he bellowed, holding the phone down by his side. ‘We need to get that damn pump fixed. That’s the whole water supply to the farm!’

  ‘The bloody water pump? When did that happen?’ said Len.

  ‘About half an hour ago. Haven’t you noticed?’

  ‘I’ve only just come up here from my place. Have you tried fixing it?’

  Will threw up his hands. ‘What do you think I’ve been doing for the past half an hour? Bloody hell, why does this always happen on a sodding bank holiday?’

  Ouch. Jess cringed.

  And oh no … At the same time as ranting to the supplier and Len, Gaby had clearly come onto Will’s radar. He suddenly veered from being on course for Len to making a beeline for her. Jess quickened her pace to try and intercept them.

  ‘Hey! You!’ Will bellowed.

  Gaby stopped, frozen like a hedgehog about to be run over by a juggernaut. Will shoved the phone in his jeans pocket and homed in on Gaby.

  ‘Oh no. I’d better make the introductions or she really will leg it.’ Leaving Adam behind, Jess jogged over but it was too late. Her twin was giving Gaby the full benefit of his customer-facing charm and skills.

  She reached him to find him talking to Gaby, with his hands on his hips. ‘Can I help you? Are you a customer?’ he asked impatiently. ‘If you are, I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t be wandering around like this.’

  ‘I was just admiring your Innisidgens,’ said Gaby.

  ‘My what?’

  ‘The Innisidgens. They’re just coming into bud, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yeah, they are but …’ Will peered at her. ‘Look, this is a staff-only area and you should call in at the office if you want to buy some flowers.’

  Jess darted between them. ‘Will. This is Dr Gabriella Carter. She’s one of our new field workers.’

  Will stared at Gaby and his jaw dropped, anyone would think the queen of the fairies had landed on his farm and zapped him with her wand.

  ‘She’s a field worker?’

  ‘Yes, Gaby is a field worker. I told you she was coming. I’ve just been to pick her up from the airport. You can’t have forgotten,’ she added as if Will was a toddler to whom she had to explain everything, which was partly true. She turned to Gaby. ‘I’m sorry, I think you took Will by surprise, didn’t she, Will?’

  ‘You could say that.’ Will glared at Gaby.

  She smiled back sweetly. ‘I’m sorry for wandering off, but I was fascinated by the Innisidgens. They’re the very first variety to come out, aren’t they? I know some people loathe the scent and say it’s like cat’s pee, but to me, they always give me that “back to school” feeling. So lovely to think of them popping up while people are still basking on the beaches.’

  Will shoved his fingers through messy brown hair, lightened at the tips by a summer spent outdoors. His eyes narrowed in puzzlement and he peered at Gaby again. ‘Actually, I don’t mind the scent … Mum hates it, but I’ve always thought the Innisidgens mark the start of the season too. A fresh start and all that stuff.’

  ‘Oh, absolutely and my apologies, Mr Godrevy, I hadn’t meant to cross any boundaries.’ Gaby extended her slender fingers. ‘I look forward to working with you.’

  Will stared at her dainty hand in surprise.

  He must think she’s waiting for him to kiss it, thought Jess with a mix of delight and dismay.

  ‘Um, hi,’ he said before turning to Jess and snapping out of his temporary trance. ‘All hell’s broken loose. The water pump’s packed in and you know what that means. We’ve no water for irrigation for the farmhouse or the staff house …’ He glanced back at Gaby. ‘So, you have my apologies if I haven’t put up the bunting and made some iced buns today, Miss Carter, I’ve been a tad busy.’

  ‘Oh, no apology needed. Bunting and buns won’t be necessary, however appealing they sound. A nice cup of Earl Grey and a slice of sponge cake would be a perfectly acceptable alternative. Gluten-free of course.’

  Will’s jaw dropped again and he stared at Gaby.

  Adam had joined them. He’d obviously heard most of the recent exchanges, judging by the gleeful squeeze Jess felt on her hand. She distinctly felt his body shake as he tried not to laugh. Jess stifled a snigger too.

  ‘Would you like me to make some cucumber sandwiches as well?’ Will said smoothly.

  Gaby licked her lips. ‘Yum. That sounds delicious. Where’s the staff tea room?’

  Will couldn’t take his eyes off Gaby. She smiled innocently back, but Jess could tell Gaby was teasing and could actually feel the crackle of tension between the two of them. It was like pitting a bear and a viper against each other. How would they ever survive the next six months together?

  Jess let out a strained laugh. ‘Gaby is joking. She knows we all muck in here.’

  ‘Of course I do. So, shall we start again?’ She held out her hand once more and this time, to Jess’s amazement, Will took it, shaking it firmly but carefully with his grimy paw.

  ‘Welcome to the flower farm, Gaby,’ he said, still unable to tear his eyes from her face.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Godrevy. You seem to have a very professional operation here.’

  ‘Thanks. And er … please call me Will. We don’t stand on ceremony here.’

  ‘Thank you, Will. I look forward to working with you and possibly tasting your buns.’

  Will opened his mouth but seemed to choke on his reply.

  ‘Have you tried the trip switch on the pump?’ Jess cut in, trying to divert Will. ‘That was the problem last time.’

  His attention snapped back to Jess. ‘Of course I’ve tried the trip switch, but you can have a look if you like. Anything’s better than leaving the farm without water until the technician can come out.’

  ‘Where is the pump?’ Gaby asked.

  ‘In the shed over there above the well.’ Will flipped a thumb in the direction of the other side of the yard. ‘It supplies all the water for the farm and business.’

  ‘You’re getting a tour of the farm anyway, so you may as well see everything now, not that you’ll ever need to go in the pump house,’ said Jess. She could feel Adam beside her, saying nothing but obviously enjoying every word of the exchange. He’d be bound to take the piss out of Will about ‘his buns’ as soon as he got the chance but Jess was only concerned with keeping the peace.

  With Will forging ahead, Adam, Jess and Gaby followed him over to a small wooden shed on the far side of the yard. The goats stopped chewing long enough to watch them trudge past, as if to wonder what the fuss was all about.

  The door was open and Jess joined Will, who was staring at the control panel above the blue pump, while Adam and Gaby waited outside the cramped shed
. Jess flicked the trip switch up and down, and the pump stopped, then shuddered and rattled in an alarming way.

  ‘I do hope you don’t think I’m interfering, but could it possibly be an airlock in the pipework?’

  They all turned at the small voice from behind them. Gaby gazed at them both with innocent eyes.

  ‘We used to have a similar problem at the nursery where I worked out in the Fens. It’s a long shot, but you never know.’

  Will scratched his head and pushed out his bottom lip. ‘It’s making a lot of noise, but there’s no actual water coming through.’

  ‘As Gaby said, it could be an airlock,’ said Jess.

  ‘It’s never had one before,’ Will muttered.

  ‘But it could be,’ said Jess.

  Gaby stepped forward and opened the hinged wooden cover concealing the blue pipework. ‘It looks very similar to the pump we had at the nursery. Is it worth letting the air out of this vent on the back of the pipework?’

  Jess stood by as Will peered at the pipework. ‘Yeah. S’pose it could be that. Like I say, we’ve never had an issue with it before …’

  He turned the vent and after a few rattles and clangs, the pump tone speeded up to its normal smooth hum.

  ‘Certainly sounds healthier,’ said Jess.

  Gaby pointed to the control panel. ‘The current’s running through it again. I think that’s a good sign.’

  Len poked his head round the door. ‘Hey! The water’s on again. I don’t know what you did, but it’s worked.’

  Len vanished as fast as he’d appeared and Will closed the cover on the pipework.

  ‘Thanks,’ he muttered.

  ‘A pleasure. Now if you’ll show me to my accommodation, I can settle in and leave you to get on with your work.’ She threw a smile at Will. ‘I can see you’re obviously terribly busy …’

  *

  Half an hour later, Jess had completed the tour of the farm and showed Gaby into the staff accommodation. The farm was very fortunate to have a staff house, the glorified name for the converted farm building used by the seasonal workers. The house was divided into individual bedrooms served by communal bathroom and kitchen facilities. While most of the workers were local, some came from mainland Cornwall to work the winter narcissi season, and a handful hailed from Europe.

  Jess had introduced Gaby to Anna, who had looked her up and down as if she was a pest that had landed on the narcissi, before grudgingly shaking hands and saying, ‘Welcome to St Saviour’s.’

  Jess and Will loved their mother, but even they had to admit that she wasn’t the easiest woman to live with. When their dad had finally left after all attempts to patch up their marriage had failed, she’d been landed with the responsibility of an ailing business and two young adults who’d had to step up and help her run it at an age when they might have been going out with friends or travelling further afield before settling down. The farm had been a poisoned chalice to start with. The shock of her husband’s affair combined with the long hours and financial worries had aged her not only physically but given her a hard shell that could look like callousness to strangers.

  Jess knew that Gaby should get a warmer reception from the rest of the team. Even crusty old Len had a sense of humour sometimes and the rest of the field, packing and office workers were a friendly bunch who worked hard and played harder.

  She took Gaby through to the rear of the staff house where a handful of workers were sitting in a small garden area, enjoying a beer and sunbathing. Normally at this time of year there were around a dozen field and packing shed staff around, while a separate small team worked in the office who Gaby would get to meet soon enough. The sunbathers greeted Gaby with smiles and set about the banter straight away, telling her horror stories about the weather and Len cracking the whip.

  Jess watched Gaby carefully, but was pretty sure she was taking everything with a large pinch of salt. Anyway, judging by the way she’d handled Will, she could give at least as good as she got.

  Jess heaved a sigh of relief as she walked past the pump house and heard it chugging away. They had running water, a new staff member, and she could finally enjoy the rest of the day with Adam and find out in detail the surprise he had in store for her. She had a feeling it was going to be a memorable one.

  Chapter 3

  With a sigh, Gaby dumped her bag on the floor of her new quarters. OK … so it wasn’t the Ritz. Not even the BudgetLodge, actually. After eight years of student life, she didn’t expect comfort, let alone luxury, but the staff house still came as something of a shock.

  Her bedroom was spotlessly clean but tiny compared to the relatively spacious rooms she’d had in her college at university. It had a single bed, a chair, the kind of cupboard her granny liked to call a ‘tallboy’ and a curtained-off alcove that Gaby assumed was the wardrobe. Not that she’d brought much to hang in it. A small table with spindly legs, one of which was propped up with a pile of beer mats, served as a desk, complete with a candlestick lamp with the kind of tasselled shade that even her granny would have rejected as old-fashioned these days. Still, she knew she was incredibly lucky to have a place to stay at all. Jess had explained that staff houses were as rare as hen’s teeth and not everyone who worked at the farm got to live there. Some of the temporary workers had to rent out-of-season holiday lets or get rooms in guesthouses, while the younger permanent staff still lived with their families.

  Like most people her age, she couldn’t envisage ever being able to afford a place of her own and definitely not on a poetry expert and flower picker’s wage. But she wasn’t here for the money: she was here to enjoy the view, smell the sea and the scents – and have some solitude.

  Not that there would be much of that. The sound of people arguing about a football match was clear and the thick partition walls shook when a door slammed. Jess had shown her the shared shower rooms and the communal staffroom/kitchen area with a large TV where most people congregated after work.

  The communal room had been furnished with cast-offs too, probably from the Godrevy farmhouse. The stuffing was escaping from a mismatched sofa. The dining table was surrounded by an eclectic mix of chairs ranging from an oak carver to a deckchair. It was a far cry from the MCR at her college, but actually, Gaby thought with a smile, it wasn’t that different to home: her parents’ place, a ramshackle thatched cottage in a village on the unfashionable side of the city. Hardly anything got thrown out there either.

  She unpacked the one small case that she’d been allowed to take on the tiny plane here. If she wanted any more of her stuff, it would have to be shipped over on the ferry. For now, her clothes took all of five minutes to put away and she’d miraculously managed to compress a whole cupboard’s worth of make-up and toiletries into one bag. Judging by the state of Len’s fingernails, she thought the varnish was going to be superfluous, but even if there were no clubs, there had to be some opportunity for glamming up, even if it was only to watch an episode of Countryfile.

  At the bottom of the case, wrapped inside a jumper, she found her two most precious treasures. She set one on the table: it was a photo of her with her parents, her older sister Carly and Steven – Stevie – her younger brother. The three siblings had all squeezed onto an old garden swing behind the cottage, with their parents piled in behind. A friend of Gaby’s had taken the photo on Stevie’s twenty-first birthday not long after he’d taken delivery of his motorbike. He’d always been a daredevil, spending all his spare time climbing, or mountain biking, surfing and trying out extreme sports. He was working as a courier while he saved enough to travel the world, and unlike Gaby had no desire to go to uni or to join the rat race like Carly. He lived for the moment …

  Since his death, every photo with the bike in had been deleted or destroyed, but the memory of his special birthday would be treasured forever. Besides, everyone had been smiling in the photo, no one had their eyes closed or ‘looked fat’, so it had been deemed a suitable memento of the occasion, printed off multiple
times and framed before being given as gifts to numerous members of the Carter clan.

  Shortly after that photo took place, Stevie had taken a corner too fast, been thrown off the bike and struck an oak tree at the entrance to the village. He’d survived, technically, but the brain damage had been so extensive that he hadn’t been able to breathe on his own. Even worse, all the tests had shown no brain activity at all and they had been told there was no prospect of recovery. A month after the accident, the Carters had made the most heartbreaking decision any family could ever face and in March, Stevie was taken off life support.

  Gaby stared at the photo. That dreadful moment had been almost half a year ago now. How could that be? How fast time flew, even though recently, some days had felt as if she was walking uphill in the darkness against a wind so strong and merciless she thought she might be blown off her feet and never get up again.

  The late afternoon sun streamed through her window. Gaby pushed it open and let the cool breeze air the room. Could she smell the sea on it? Possibly not but she could imagine it. She’d made it here and Stevie would be proud of her. He’d be cheering now, just as he would have at her PhD graduation in June.

  Gaby had managed to fund her doctorate with the help of several jobs, and scrimping and saving, plus being fed by her parents from time to time. She’d completed her thesis even during the darkest hours. She’d written up the last few pages, sitting by Stevie’s hospital bed.

  Shortly after he’d died a minor miracle had happened – her college had offered her a junior fellowship that enabled her to teach the undergraduates and would have covered some of her accommodation and living expenses. The opportunity was as rare as rocking horse poo, and there were very few jobs that required a PhD in poetry, but it wasn’t the miracle Gaby had really wished for. She wasn’t going to get her brother back. And so, with him in mind, she had turned down the offer to pursue a job that combined the two passions in her life – poetry and flowers – and decided she would work on a flower farm.

  She’d been in academia – at school, at university – for almost all of her twenty-seven years. She couldn’t see herself in another twenty-seven, a crusty academic, rarely having been outside Cambridge. She’d thought long and hard about her future as she sat by her brother’s side. He’d never be able to pursue all the things he wanted to do: travel the world, work abroad, enjoy life to the full but she could.