how are you?’
‘Oh, you know—bored, sore, frustrated with the ceaseless inactivity …’
‘Peachy, then.’
‘Oh, utterly.’
Ben grinned and dropped into the armchair opposite. ‘Thought so. I’ve brought you a book—it’s an autobiography I’ve just finished reading. The guy was unfortunate enough to become one of my patients and he gave it to me. Nice man. I thought you might enjoy it. It’s quite funny and very touching—he used to be a farmer.’
He slid it over the coffee-table and Mike picked it up, flicked through the pictures and put it down. ‘Thanks. I’ve heard about it—if I’d thought I’d have the time, I would have bought a copy, so I’ll enjoy reading it. God knows, there’s not much else to do at the moment.’
Ben chuckled. ‘I can imagine. So when did they change your cast?’
‘Tuesday. It doesn’t seem to be swelling too much, so they were happy to do it. I have to say it looked pretty grim.’
Ben nodded. ‘I expect it’s black.’
‘Mmm—like this,’ he said, lifting up his T-shirt and making Ben wince.
‘That’s a goody. You were lucky your chest didn’t cave in. You could have had a flail segment there and it would have made it much more exciting.’
Mike groaned. ‘No, thanks. It was quite exciting enough. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve thanked you for coming to my rescue.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘Actually, I seem to remember you rang me at a rather opportune moment for that chat, and you never did say what it was about.’
‘Oh, that. It’s nothing to worry about—it’ll keep.’
‘Well, if it’s nothing to worry about, bring it on, frankly, because all I’ve had to do for the last week is sit here and worry about all the things I should be doing and can’t, and how much work this has put on everybody else, and how far behind we’ll be if I can’t get all the summer jobs done—so, please, if it’s something to think about that isn’t a worry, tell me!’
Ben laughed and sat back, studying him for a moment. ‘OK. It’s about the field in front of the house. Well, all round it, really, but especially the bit between the house and the road. It’s not huge, but when we had the christening you let us use it for parking, and it was hugely helpful. The drive’s really not big enough if we have more than one visitor, and if we had that field, we could extend the parking at the front and make a bit more of a garden on that side of the house. And if you got really carried away and wanted to sell the bit between us and the clifftop, and maybe a little strip round each side too …?’
Mike thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly. ‘It would make a lot of sense for you, but we tend to move the cattle through from one side of you to the other along that field, and if you’ve got the whole section from the cliff to the road, we’d have to move them on the lane, and we try to avoid that. And it wouldn’t help you with access to the beach—I take it you’ve found out how steep it is there? You can’t walk down.’
‘No, I know. It was just an idea. It’s the other bit, really, that’s the most significant, and Lucy’s decided she loves gardening—takes after her grandmother, I think, and she really wants to expand it. She says I only want it so I can have a little red tractor mower and drive around on it, pretending to be a farmer—’
Mike laughed out loud at that. ‘Any time you want to play at being a farmer, give us a shout and you can get up at five and do the milking.’
Ben grinned. ‘I’ll stick with the mower,’ he replied. ‘So—think about it, ask Joe what he thinks. There’s no rush, and we certainly don’t want to put any pressure on you, but if the land’s going begging, we’d be more than happy to pay you amenity rates. We’d have to get it valued to make it fair.’
Amenity rates? They doubled the price of agricultural land, sometimes more than doubled it. And the land Ben was talking about wasn’t in any way fundamental to the running of the farm. They had plenty of grazing, and certainly the area between the house and the road was only ever grazed just to keep it down. It wasn’t good enough for hay, it wasn’t big enough for crops and the most sensible thing would be to sell it to the Carters.
And, God knows, cash at the moment was tight.
‘Have you got a plan of the plot?’
‘Not here,’ Ben said. ‘I have at home. Want me to draw it up so you can see?’
‘Or I can walk over it with you.’
Ben arched a brow ironically, and Mike sighed. ‘Well, drive, then. I can get Joe to bring me up. We could all talk it over on site. I’ll speak to him and Dad first.’
‘Do that. And now I’m going to leave you in peace. Fran was cooking something that smelled really gorgeous, and I don’t want to be responsible for ruining your supper. Enjoy the book—and drop in when you’re next in the hospital. The fracture clinic’s right next to A and E, and if I’ve got time, I’ll stop for a coffee with you.’
‘I’ll do that,’ Mike promised.
Ben went out, and he could hear his voice in the kitchen, talking to Fran for a moment before the back door shut.
So Ben wanted to buy the land.
And if he did, Joe and Sarah would get enough money to refit their kitchen, which was absolutely falling apart, and he and Fran—they’d have enough money, he thought, the realisation slowly dawning, to pay for another cycle of IVF.
He swallowed. If Fran felt brave enough to go for it. And if she did, he’d have to find the strength from somewhere to support her when it all went wrong.
Assuming she even wanted a baby with him any more. Right now, he wasn’t sure she did. He didn’t know what was going on in her head, and that made life with her an absolute minefield.
And to make matters worse, Sophie was coming back on Sunday week and he still hadn’t worked out how to tell Fran that Kirsten was pregnant.
Oh, damn.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THERE was only one way to do this, Mike decided, and that was to tell Fran straight.
So he did—eventually.
She’d prepared a lovely meal—chilled watercress and tomato soup with basil and garlic croutons, a really tasty chicken dish in a creamy blue cheese sauce with shiitake mushrooms on a bed of wild rice served with the freshest, crunchiest runner beans out of their own garden, and then a fabulous fruit salad rammed with fresh summer fruits topped with a dollop of clotted cream. It was streets away from the usual food they ate, when she was up to her eyes in schoolwork and he was milking until six-thirty and then fighting with the paperwork. He didn’t care if it was geared to helping his leg mend, it was gorgeous, and he scraped the last dribble of cream off the edge of the bowl and pushed it away with a sigh of regret.
‘That was delicious, darling, thank you,’ he said with a smile, and she smiled back and took his plate.
‘You’re
