the time to come across. I know Maisy loved seeing you.’
‘It’s no problem. She’s a great kid. And hey, you’ve done a brilliant job here, Rachel. The barn, everything. She’ll have had a real special day.’ His hand rested on her shoulder for a brief second. It felt reassuring, warm.
‘Thanks.’
Tom then set off back to work at the farm next door. It was so nice that he’d made the effort to call. And, Rachel smiled to herself, it had certainly cheered up Eve’s day by the soppy look on her face.
The party was wrapping up for another year, and after a flurry of farewells, a few tired tears, happy hugs and party bags distributed, it was finally time for home. Quiet – phew.
Back at the house, Maisy crashed out on the old armchair by the Aga – Granny Ruth’s favourite seat. It had most likely been there when she and her husband, Grandad Ken, had lived in the farmhouse themselves with Rachel’s dad growing up as a little boy. There were so many memories over the generations in this farm, and there was a sense of history and comfort from that. Rachel placed a cosy blanket over Maisy, giving her tired daughter a kiss on her forehead, and set about doing the last of the washing-up in the kitchen.
Jill arrived back from dropping off Granny Ruth, and Rachel poured out two glasses of left-over fizz as they collapsed at the kitchen table, with Maisy now sound asleep in the chair. A wave of fatigue hit Rachel.
‘Well, I’d say that was a success,’ pronounced Jill.
‘Yes.’ Rachel stifled a yawn. ‘Thanks Mum, for all your help. I couldn’t have pulled that off without you. All the food was just brilliant, and the second round of Sleeping Lions out in the garden was a triumph.’ In fact, two of the children had actually gone off to sleep.
‘The old games are the best.’ Jill winked.
Rachel glanced over to check that Maisy was still sleeping, before lowering her voice. ‘Mum, I’m a bit worried about Maisy, lately.’
‘Oh … why’s that, pet?’
‘She’s been asking about her dad, and why he’s not around. I think the other kids at school have been asking questions and teasing her.’
‘Oh dear … bless her.’ Jill sighed. ‘It’s a tricky one, isn’t it. I don’t suppose you heard a thing back from him about her birthday, either?’
‘Now then … what do you think?’ Rachel asked, ironically.
‘Well, we can only be honest with her, Rachel. Be there to field her questions. She’s growing up, she’s bound to be curious.’
‘Yes … I think she’s missing him. Well, missing a father figure anyway. Especially with Dad …’ Rachel couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
‘Yes, I know, I know, love. We’ve just got to be strong for her. Be her mum, dad, grandparents … everything. Families come in all shapes and sizes, especially these days.’
‘You’re right. Thanks, Mum. We can only do our best, can’t we.’
‘Indeed. And, today was a pretty good shot at a super birthday party for her.’
‘It was. Well then, I don’t think I’ll need any help getting off to sleep tonight.’ Rachel gave in to another yawn.
‘Nor me.’
They spent a few quiet moments sat in the kitchen, Rachel looking out of the window at the view; the fields with their white woolly sheep dotted about and the valley below – all green and lush, and rather beautiful. The gentle foothills of the Cheviots which cradled their lovely farmhouse. Rachel gave a tired, yet contented sigh. It was lovely to stop for a second and take in the scene – sometimes you were so busy you forgot to look.
Later that evening, Rachel carried Maisy upstairs and, after a nice warm bath, they started reading Tom’s birthday book, all about magical adventures at a fairy glen – a good choice.
Maisy’s head was heavy on the pillow.
‘Night, night, Maisy. Happy birthday, my love.’
‘Night, Mummy.’ Maisy went quiet for a second and looked thoughtful. ‘Mummy … do you think … maybe Tom could be my daddy?’ she said sleepily.
‘Oh, Maisy. It doesn’t quite work like that, sweetheart.’ Rachel kissed her little girl gently on the forehead. ‘Night, night, petal. Sweet dreams.’
If only life was that simple.
COFFEE, CHAT AND CHOCOLATE BROWNIES
A few days after the party, reality was hitting home all too hard for Rachel. With lambing over and birthday dreams delivered, the cold hard facts of the farm’s ever deepening financial woes were impossible to avoid. Rachel could no longer shield Jill from the truth, as leaving their heads in the sand any longer would lead to far bigger issues – and the chance that they might lose the farm altogether. That was one thing Rachel could not risk.
The time had come to face the music. Maisy was at school, Rachel had done the morning’s farm checks and she and Jill were pottering around in the farmhouse kitchen.
Rachel took a deep breath. ‘Mum, we need to talk.’
‘Okay, right. What about … you sound awfully serious?’
‘Well, it is.’
‘Does it warrant a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, I think maybe a gin actually.’
‘Ah …’
Jill quickly put the kettle on and set about making a pot of tea, placing a small milk jug and two cups in the centre of the pine table.
‘It’s the farm. We’re struggling, Mum.’ Rachel found herself all choked up just saying the words aloud. Yes, she’d known it herself for some time, but telling her mum made it all much more real. She was incredibly worried about how it would affect her.
‘Oh … Well, it’s always been a bit of a juggling act, love. Even years back.’ Mum’s tone was light.
Rachel realised that she’d not quite grasped the seriousness of the situation. How very wrong it had all gone since Dad’s death.
‘It’s getting harder and harder to earn a living, Mum. I didn’t want to have to involve you, I hoped we might see a turnaround, but the prices for sheep aren’t looking too good for when we come to market, and our costs are forever rising. We are already struggling with an overdraft now and if things carry on the way they are, in a few months’ time we’ll hit rock bottom – the farm’s subsidy payment for this year is already nearly used up.’ Most of it had disappeared into the black hole of the farm’s overdraft straight away.
‘It’s gone
