Page 18 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘And you’ve never thought of moving back?’
‘No,’ I say, and a whole load of emotions stir inside me. ‘No, I haven’t. I have my job, my life. It’s never been on the cards.’
We walk side by side down the stony driveway, thegrassy edges crunching under our feet. My pink wellingtons are cracking because they’ve sat too long in the porch.
‘So, what about you? What brings you to Hollybush Farm?’ I say, my lungs filling with fresh air. I can feel my cheeks turning pink. It’s so different from my job, where I never see the light of day. I’m either in air-conditioned or centrally heated spaces, with a coffee in one hand and an iPad in the other. Right now, I’m just here, in the moment. A robin darts in front of us, the red of his breast vibrant against the white of the grasses and brambles in the mist. I feel as if I’m in a Christmas card, but I’m here, at home, and I wish I’d come back more, done more of this. It took Dad becoming ill to make me realize. I remember how I felt when I left, with Dad’s encouragement, to see the world. I was homesick, but thought I was making him proud as I worked my way up the corporate ladder.
‘Gramps said that if ever I felt homesick I should look up at the stars and know that he, Nan and Dad would be looking up at the same stars. To find the brightest one and know we would all be looking at it together.’
‘That must have been comforting.’
‘It was. To start with, I hated being away. And you?’
‘Left school as soon as I could,’ he says. ‘I didn’t like classrooms. I did my learning outside, on the rugby field. I moved on pretty quick.’
‘Dad didn’t want me to feel trapped here,’ I say, as we walk. I see a listing fence post in Bertie and Harriet’s field and walk towards it. I straighten it, and Llew steps forward to hold it.
‘You sure?’ I say.
‘Yes. All good. Go for it! I’m used to feeling the fear!’ He puts his shoulder to the stake as I swing the long-handled mallet several times to make sure it’s firmly in and straight. Then I test it. Hopefully Bertie and Harriet are safely penned in now.
‘So your dad wanted you to go? To leave here?’
I hit the stake once more with the mallet for good measure. ‘Yup,’ I say, out of puff. ‘He never wanted to be anywhere else. But for Mum, it was like a prison sentence. She wanted out. And she found her way. He never wanted me to feel like that.’
We walk on.
‘Here, I can help,’ he says, as I take hold of another loose fence post.
‘Are you sure?’
He gives a little shrug. ‘Bit stiff still but this is helping,’ he says. ‘Just being out and about.’
‘So, what about you? You weren’t brought up on a farm, then?’ I ask, as he holds the post and I hit it into the hard ground, making my arms ache. ‘Better than any gym workout,’ I say breathing out plumes of hot air as I let the mallet settle at my side. He gives the stake a shake and nods, satisfied.
‘No, not farming. Like I say, rugby was my thing from a young age. I was spotted and signed. I went pretty far. Even got capped for the country a couple of times.’
‘Ah, so that’ll be where I’ve seen you, then. And the doctor at the hospital. Dad never misses a game on the telly. Loves his rugby. He’d go to the pub in the past, but I think he stays at home on his own now to watch it.’
We walk on some more and Dewi chases crisp, crystallizing leaves as the day gets even colder.
‘And are you still playing? Or have you discovered farming is much more your thing?’
He shakes his head. ‘No, not playing. I had an injury.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ I say, the cold nipping at my cheeks.
‘It was just bad luck. A fracture in my back.’
‘On the field?’
‘I fell from a ladder. We were getting ready for a party at home and my wife wanted bunting put up. I slipped and fell, broke my back and didn’t play again.’
‘Oh, no!’
‘It’s why I didn’t argue when you suggested getting checked out yesterday at the hospital. Just to keep an eye on things.’
‘And your wife? Did you need to call her?’
