‘Once thisvery specific and wise and lovely personstarts advocating for reconciliation, all those other people who secretly want it too, who know full well that it’s in the interests of everyone, once that person speaks up, other people have the courage to join them.’
‘No.’ She leant back, whipped her towel over her shoulder and went to serve more drinks.
Okay, stealth attack it was then.
* * *
After briefly contemplating walking home, wading across the river where it wound around the edge of the farm, I decided to save that escapade for warmer times, instead calling Daniel and offering him a cinnamon apple crumble in exchange for a lift home.
While I waited for him to arrive, I posted an event on each of the Ferrington Facebook groups. I’d been invited to enough events over the past few years to understand what motivated people to turn up to them. The difficulty in this case had been finding a suitable location. While admiring the impressive range of fruit ciders behind the Boatman bar, I’d had an idea that hit every base with one genius stroke, if I did say so myself.
Cider tasting in the orchard barn! Damson wine! Damson and apple pies! Cakes! Tarts! Crumbles! Jams and chutneys!
Next Sunday evening, a time that my rigorous research into Ferrington goings-on revealed had absolutely nothing going on whatsoever. Even the takeaway vendors were shut. Both pubs were open, but they were always open, and neither of them were offering free drinks.
Underneath the giant font pronouncing THREE FREE SAMPLES PER PERSON, I added, in much smaller font, that there would be a ‘short talk from a local about Ferrington’s glorious farming history’. There. Now, no one could boo me when I gave a presentation that would of course mention Ferrington’s pre-mining history, before perhaps then dropping a hint or two about how this could inform a potentially glorious future.
In order to cover all bases, I adapted the posts into real A4 posters, and printed out a pile of copies while Daniel was bathing Hope, ready to pin to every spare lamp post and available noticeboard the next day.
All I had to do now was use my nationally acclaimed writing skills to pen a speech so convincing in its brilliance that everyone who heard it would be too enthralled to either shout me down, run me out of town or wallop me over the head with a bottle of cider. And, immediately after that we could get on with raising the funds to build the Ferrington peace bridge.
You’re welcome.
19
On Tuesday, after a morning sanding the hall floor, which Hope decided was alternately hilarious and terrifying, I realised with a jolt that it was review day. I couldn’t resist peeking at Nora Sharp’s social media accounts, just to check Lucy was safe and well, of course. Safe, well and loving every minute of it, it would appear: #GoingGlobal #FlyingHigh #BetterThanEver. I then stuffed Hope into her snowsuit and we walked to the shops to buy bananas, a large slab of chocolate and, while I was there, I thought I might as well chuck in a newspaper.
The latest review was for an exclusive spa resort off the coast of Italy. I spent a few minutes scanning images and wondering why I’d never thought of #GoingGlobal, and then I read the actual review and decided that wreaking havoc and destruction in one country had been more than enough. Nora Sharp was an ill-placed comma away from getting sued. Or fired.
‘Anything interesting?’ Daniel asked, suddenly looming over my shoulder as I hunched at the kitchen table.
‘Not really.’ I twisted myself round to face him, plastering on a casual smile as I splayed myself across the open pages. ‘Just, you know, thought I’d see what was going on back in London.’
‘Missing the big city?’ Twin worry lines appeared at the top of his nose.
‘No!’ I replied, letting out a derisive laugh verging on a cackle. I took a moment to breathe. ‘I’m really not. I love it here. If anything, I’m looking to congratulate myself on making my best decision in years.’
I’d straightened up in my efforts to appear honest – which shouldn’t have been that difficult, considering I was telling the truth. Daniel leaned closer, and while momentarily distracted by the proximity of his broad shoulder, accompanied by his now all-too-familiar scent and delicious warmth…
While I may have been closing my eyes and enjoying a shiver of loveliness, Daniel spied the review.
‘Ugh!’ he snorted, causing my eyes to snap back open. ‘I can’t stand that woman. What kind of moral vacuum must she have crawled out of to be able to not only live with herself, but act like she’sproudof making a career from being unpleasant? I can’t understand why anyone would give her the time of day, let alone read that poison.’
I flipped over the page, and tried to ignore the secret that thrashed in my guts.
* * *
A couple of days later, firmly refocused on the future, I persuaded Becky to help me clear out a space in the barn that stood closest to the orchard. After swinging open the double doors and shining Daniel’s farmer-sized torch into the far corners, we agreed that a more professional opinion was required before venturing inside.
‘I’ve already called Luke,’ Daniel said, once we retreated back into the warmth of the farmhouse to ask Daniel. ‘He’ll pop by in an hour or so.’
‘It’s your barn,’ Becky squeaked. ‘You’re a fourth-generation farmer! Surely you don’t need Luke to check it out for you!’
He grinned. ‘I’m a transmissions and distribution forecasting manager, and I wouldn’t risk setting foot in that barn without Luke’s go-ahead. Whatever you two are planning, I doubt it’s worth endangering lives over.’
According to my research, using the barn was going to save lives, not endanger them, but I wasn’t about to argue against a visit from Luke.
While we waited for him to arrive, Becky distracted herself from the urge to hide in the cellar by prodding me further about the event.
