His eyebrows raised into his grey hair. ‘Oh, big farm then?’
‘Little Willow is the biggest in the south,’ she said proudly. ‘We’re arable as well, and diversified into different revenue streams.’
He looked confused. ‘I thought Fletcher’s Farm was the biggest in the south? I haven’t heard of that one.’
‘Well…’ Was that embarrassment flushing up her neck? Embarrassment for commercialising her farm? ‘We rebranded to a more family friendly name.’
‘Are you Bill Fletcher’s girl? I met him once at a show. Nice man,’ Stapleton said.
Laurel broke into a grin.
‘I am Bill Fletcher’s girl, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr Stapleton.’ She held out her hand and the old farmer shook it heartily.
‘John, please,’ he said. ‘We had to parcel the land and sell it off. My kids didn’t want anything to do with farming. Can’t say I blame them. It’s a tough business, so much paperwork and not much help anymore. Your dad has done the right thing, with all that diversification.’
She snorted.
‘Oh, I had to fight tooth and nail. If Dad and my brother Jack had their way, the farm would be dying now,’ Laurel hesitated. ‘They don’t like it. I’m not sure I like it, but the bottom line is that we need it.’
Stapleton nodded wisely.
‘Laurel, come and see the pregnant cow.’ Benji tugged at her hand, and she followed the boy into one of the side pens.
‘The rest of the herd is over with our neighbouring farm now, but this young man here wanted to keep a few, so I sold his dad my favourites.’ Stapleton ruffled Benji’s hair. ‘This is Penelope.’
‘I call her Bessie the Cow,’ Benji whispered loudly, and Stapleton smiled sadly.
Laurel ran her hand down the side of the cow.
‘She’s ready.’
‘Won’t be until tomorrow afternoon,’ Stapleton said gruffly, obviously not liking the perceived challenge.
‘Gosh, it’s big,’ she said. ‘Do you have a history of calves this big in this herd?’
‘No, this is unusual.’ He ran a loving hand across the cow’s neck.
As they were crowded around the pregnant cow in the cow house, Benji started saying about how he had renamed Stapleton’s favourite cows, and Nate realised that this entire situation must be incredibly sad for Stapleton. To come in to work every day to his farm that he had to sell off because he couldn’t make it work, to see the house that he probably brought up his children in turned into something else, his favourite animals having their names changed.
It must have been heartbreaking for him.
‘Come on, you,’ Jess said, grabbing for Benji’s arm. ‘Time for bed.’
It had gotten darker since they’d been in the cow house and after saying their goodbyes to Stapleton, who wandered off across the fields to wherever he now lived, they headed back to the seating area. The barbeque had long since been forgotten (as it always was) and Owen put the meat in the oven, making sure that everyone had wine or beer.
Jess reappeared sometime later with food, and flicked on the festoon lighting that encircled the seating area.
‘Oh, these lights remind me of when I was working on the Bakoni Ruins of Machadodorp in Mpumalanga,’ said Lucia, ‘That’s in South Africa,’ she added for Laurel’s benefit. ‘We stayed at the Incwala Lodge, and they were so good to us.’
‘Oh, yes?’ Laurel said, and Lucia launched into some ridiculous story.
She droned on, but Nate tuned her out again. He pulled his phone out to see if his mother or Anwar had tried to get hold of him.
‘I’m sorry. Am I boring you?’ Lucia snapped, forcing his attention back to her.
‘Lucia,’ he sighed, ‘we’ve heard it all before. How you helped the good people of Incwara Lodge with their irrigation system, the terraces that you helped excavate in lower Zimbabwe.’
There was a heavy silence in the garden as Lucia just looked at him, that ridiculous nose ring glinting in the festoon light.
