Page 5 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
Twm pulls out an old brick phone and types. ‘Marvellous technology, isn’t it? When it works. I reckon he’ll be here in a bit anyway. He’ll be glad to see a friendly face. Mind you … I think technology’s stopped us all talking to each other face to face. I should have called up on your dad a long time ago, like we used to.’
‘Maybe you could, when he’s home,’ I say hopefully. It can’t hurt to have people dropping in and checking on him. ‘Can I get you a drink, Twm?’ I ask.
‘Half of dark, if you’re sure,’ he says, pushing his glass across the bar. ‘Diolch, and good health to your dad.’
I turn back to Matthew, who evidently needs something to make this whole experience a little more enjoyable. ‘What would you like?’
‘A Sauvignon blanc?’ he asks the bar person, who looks at him blankly. I don’t know her. She’s young. I wonder where Sali, the landlady, is. ‘Wine?’ he adds.
‘White or red?’ she asks warily.
‘Let’s have gin and tonic,’ I answer quickly.
Matthew looks at me as if he’s arrived on another planet. He leans forward. ‘Do you have Tanqueray?’
‘Gordon’s is fine,’ I cut in, and the barmaid looks at me as if it’s Matthew who’s from another planet. ‘Where’s Sali? She hasn’t sold up, has she?’ I ask.
‘She’s on a cruise,’ says the barmaid. ‘Says she’s had enough of this weather. But the Bay of Biscay was a nightmare! Ice and a slice?’
We take our drinks to a table and chairs by the fire, and Matthew seems finally to be thawing a little. We sip the gin and tonic, with melting ice cubes, and wait.
The door opens and I recognize him straight away. Owen doesn’t change. Still the same crop of blond hair, as thick and plentiful as a field of corn. ‘Owen!’ I say, standing from the table.
‘Oh, hi, Jem. What’s happening? I just heard about the ambulance up at your dad’s place.’
I step out from the table and walk towards him. ‘I should be asking you the same question,’ I say crossly.
Owen puts up his hands and takes a step back. ‘Whoa!’
Matthew stands too, behind me. ‘She’s upset. Her father’s unwell. I’m Matthew,’ he says, putting out his hand. ‘Jem’s partner. We work together. Met on our first week with the company on a team bonding weekend. Didn’t realize a weekend of role play and murder mystery in a country house would lead to finding my future wife,’ he tries to joke. ‘Been together for a couple of years now. I’m here to meet her father.’ But before Owen has a chance to take his hand I step in.
‘She is upset, yes,’ I say, turning and glaring at Matthew, who seems to lean away as I do. ‘And I can speak for myself,’ I say quietly. Then slowly I turn back to Owen. ‘Owen, I’ve just come from the farm.’
‘What’s happened to your dad?’ he asks, looking concerned.
‘He’s in hospital with sepsis.’
‘Oh, God – will he be all right?’
I take a deep breath. ‘Yes. No thanks to you.’
He frowns. ‘What? What do you mean by that?’
‘He’s paying you to work on the farm and the place has gone to ruin! And you couldn’t check in on him and see how he’s doing? Not work out that he hasn’t had any heating on there for God knows how long? Or even contact me? It’s not like you don’t know my number. I haven’t changed it!’
‘Whoa,’ he says again, holding up his hands. ‘Of course I could’ve checked in on him. I haven’t seenhim for a while. I’ve been … had things on my mind. But, yes, I should have, I’m sorry. And I’ve been to get credit on my phone. Only just got your message.’
‘We all have things on our minds, Owen, but Dad’s paying you to look after the farm and from where I’m standing, you’re not doing it very well.’
He takes a deep breath and puts his hands on his hips, on his worn leather belt, running through the belt loops on his soft, worn jeans, over his dark brown scuffed boots. He looks at me, his face as familiar now as it was when we were in school. Round, with a dimple in the middle of his chin. Only the laughter from his blue eyes has disappeared. His eyes always had laughter in them, right up until the day I told him I was leaving, going to see the world, taking a job on a cruise ship, and finished with him. Of course I’ve seen him since but we’ve both moved on. He has a partner and two children. I now have Matthew and the chance of a new life in America on the horizon.
‘There’s clearly things you need to catch up on around here, Jem,’ he says, biting at the corner of his lip, as he always did when things were on his mind. Like when he’d spotted one of the younger kids getting bullied by some of the rugby boys. He couldn’t stand back and waded in with a couple of well-placed punches and some stiff words of warning. WhatOwen lacked in academic qualifications he made up for in heart and respect from his peers.
I frown. ‘What’s that supposed to mean? Things I need to catch up on.’
He takes another deep breath. ‘It means I don’t work for your dad, not any more.’
‘What? But you’ve been there for years! You’ve left? Owen! How could you? No wonder he’s not coping.’
