‘Well, there is that.’ She waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Bah. They’ll have virtually forgotten about it in a week or two. One thing to know about the Feud of Ferrington: these days it is largely bark and no bite. All talk and no trouser, as my father would say.’
‘How old were you when you moved here? Did you have family who worked in the mines?’
‘I was only a child when we moved here, but my father was a GP, like me. It took a while for the village to accept him, but once they’d embraced him as one of their own he gave his heart to this place, looking after the people of Ferrington and the surrounding farms for over thirty years. He died in 1979. A heart attack. Which I can’t help thinking was perhaps a blessing. He’d have been devastated to have witnessed what happened.’
‘Becky mentioned that you lost your father-in-law during the strike. Does that mean you’d be against any sort of reconciliation?’
Ziva sat and thought about that for such a long time, I began to think she was deliberately ignoring me. Then she shook her head as if coming back to the present, and rested her chin in both hands.
‘It was a very difficult time for our family. When John, Becky’s dad, lost his father, it was heart-breaking. His mother never recovered. They were so angry, and so very sad. And some of his best friends – the boys he’d grown up with, worked in the mine with for decades – they didn’t even come to his funeral. They’ve all passed on now, of course. And their children, grandchildren – should they be held accountable for what happened back then? Maybe, some of them. Some have said and done things since which were very, very painful. But does there come a time when these things must be forgiven? Of course.
‘I meant it about your speech. It has disturbed me, in the best possible sense. One thing in particular has lodged in my heart and doesn’t want to leave: how long are we going to be defined by what we are not? That’s what got me thinking of my father. He was so proud to be welcomed as a Ferring. Like I said, it would have broken him to see what happened. Maybe I’m not the only one disturbed. Maybe now is the time for some honest dialogue. Some searching questions. To allow these old wounds to begin to heal. But I’m not sure you’re the one to do it.’
‘Could you be the one to do it?’
Ziva pulled a wry smile, pulling herself to her feet with an ‘oomph’. ‘Maybe twenty years ago. I may still appear to be full of vigour, but I’m not far off an old woman. And I have to think about John. While he may be open to change, his Israeli wife being the one to spearhead it would be another matter.’ She reached out, her face animated again as she took hold of Hope’s gloved hand. ‘Now, I must let you get on with your walk, and you must let me get back to the F boys! What will Felix and Finlay think if I keep them waiting?’
We each turned our separate ways, her back to the boys, Hope and I to the river. I had so much to think about, my body felt stuffed with so many different emotions, jostling about demanding attention, I kept on walking, and walking, pounding out the questions and the frustration as we crossed the muddy meadow, strode along the side of the Maddon, all the way to Old Main Street.
Gathering my courage about me, I even braved a stroll around the mini-market. One man gave me the dead-eye from the end of an aisle, shaking his head in contempt when I ignored the evil stare. The young girl behind the check-out widened her eyes when she saw me approaching, but after a brief hesitation she ran my pack of bagels and bananas through the till, and even managed a tiny smidgen of a smile when I looked her in the eye, said thank you and wished her a nice rest of the day.
The proprietor of the disco-off-licence and cheapest vapes on the Old Side lingered in his doorway as I walked past.
‘Yer barred!’ he sneered, once I had clearly passed him. ‘The baby ’n’ all!’
Part of me wanted to swing around and demand to know why. The other, wiser me knew that he was dying for me to ask so that he could reel off all the reasons he’d come up with. Instead, I stuck my chin in the air and walked right on home.
* * *
Daniel emerged from his study once we arrived back at the farm. ‘You need to call this number.’ He handed me a piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it.
‘Why? Who is it?’ I asked, dread filling me instantly.
He smiled. ‘Nothing to look so worried about. Trust me. You want to call them.’
Maybe so, but I decided I needed a mug of tea and a piece of flapjack first.
‘Hello? This is Eleanor Sharpley. I got a message asking me to call you?’
‘Eleanor from Damson Farm?’
‘Um, yes.’ I supposed I was.
‘Oh wow! Amazing! Thank youso muchfor getting back to me, like so totally quickly? I know you must be completelyinundated, which is why it’s such a totalquestto track you down? Oh my gols, I still like, can’t even believe it? Oh, hang on, there’s Tamarind. Hey, Tammers! You’ll never guess who it is! Like, totally? It’s her, now, on the phone. Eleanor! No – can you believe it,shecalledme! I know! I know! … Iknow!’
‘Um, did you want something?’ I asked, because the caller might know, but I certainly didn’t.
‘Well, I know this is like probably a total hashtag fail already, but we’d be so happy just to go on the waiting list, if you ever have a cancellation – I mean, not likely, right? But stranger things have happened. So, could we put our names down? For like, four of us?’
‘Your names down?’
‘I know! I know! I’m cringing at myself even asking, but it took usso longto find the number of your assistant chappie, and you can’t have bookings indefinitely, like they must come to an end at some point? So, whenever that date is, put us down. The full retreat.’
‘The full retreat?’ Slow, I know, but my brain was still catching up with my ears.
‘Yeah, like the lifestyle reconfiguration one? Saskia said it totally changed her world! Like, that’s why she resigned from Hardman and Hanes and rebranded as an apple guru? Whatever she did, we want that one.’
‘Right.’So wrong it’s right?‘First of all, let me take some details, then I’ll figure out when we can squeeze you in.’
