Page 52 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘They must love your cawl,’ says Llew. ‘And Mae’s jacket potatoes.’
‘Myfanwy’s Welsh cakes too,’ says Evie.
‘You can’t go wrong with a cuppa and a Welsh cake!’ Dad beams at Myfanwy. I notice they’re sharing a smile between them, rather than bristling at each other.
‘I went to check on him when I got up and he insisted on coming,’ says Evie. ‘He agreed to take it easy in a chair.’
I go over to kiss his cheek. ‘Sit by the fire, Dad. I’ll make you some tea.’
‘And bring a Welsh cake, please!’ he says.
As the kettle boils I can hear the queue outside.
‘So, what are we going to do?’ Mae says.
I shrug and smile. ‘Serve them? Through the back door, takeaway only again,’ I say. ‘And they have to use the password. Twenty-three days until Christmas!’
And that is what we do. The kitchen is full of festive cheer as jacket potatoes and mugs of cawl go out through the back door. There are bacon butties too, with Myfanwy’s sourdough bread. Even Twm Bach comes to join the party. ‘Post it on your socials, Jem love. Let the buggers see the queue,’ he tells me. ‘Letthem know Beti’s isn’t going anywhere! And tell them about Myfanwy’s Welsh cakes and sourdough.’
She waves a hand and blushes. ‘Well, I suppose the extra income from any orders wouldn’t go amiss,’ she says bashfully. I know she’s struggling too, and the extra income would definitely help.
So I do. There’s no going back to my old job now: I post on social media, and the more I post, the more followers I attract, multiplying by the minute with hashtags #saveBetis #shoplocal.
I change my name on my Instagram account to TheSocialShepherdess. That’s it: I’ve left my old world behind and joined a new community online, telling them about life on the farm and here in our small town. It feels scary but good.
‘I don’t think your new bosses are going to be able to ignore us for much longer,’ I tell Mae, then find myself smiling at Llew too. Somehow, here in the café, everything has changed. And I’m even coming to like Llew Griffiths … coming to like him very much.
‘Okay, Owen and Evie will be staying here tonight,’ I say, once the morning and the lunchtime rush are over.
‘You get some sleep,’ Mae says to me. ‘And thank you for everything.’
‘No problem. We can’t let them win,’ I say. We’ve won the day, I think, but not the war … yet.Something makes me turn to Llew and I hesitate before saying, ‘Where will you stay?’
‘I’m not sure. The car’s not ready. They’re waiting on a part from Germany. Could be a little while, with Christmas around the corner. A busy time of year apparently.’
I look at Dad, who seems to know exactly what I’m thinking and nods. ‘You’re welcome at ours. The room is there. In fact, there’s plenty of space!’ Upstairs two more rooms haven’t been used since my grandparents died.
‘Are you sure? Look, maybe it’s not a good idea, Jem. I don’t want you to think I’m there to try to buy the land.’
‘I know you’re not, and you’re welcome.’ I mean it, but he may be offering the only answer we have.
‘I’d be happy to pay for bed and breakfast, so to speak. You should think about doing it, if you stay here. It’s a fantastic location. And the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.’
I smile at him. ‘No payment needed. It’s a thank you.’
‘A thank you?’ He’s standing close to me, and I can practically feel the heat from his body and broad chest.
‘You know.’ I smile. ‘It’s for helping us … that first day when we got in here.’
‘Me?’ he teases.
‘You knew what you were doing when you shut the front door with us inside.’
Now he’s smiling widely and it’s a very attractive smile; a chip in his front tooth, a scar under his eye, and a slightly crooked nose making him individual, not like Matthew who aimed for perfection, even in his appearance. I wonder what he would think of me now, with bed hair and yesterday’s mascara. Strangely, standing beside Llew, I’ve never felt more attractive, or attracted. There’s a fizzing in my stomach, and I feel as if I’m lit up like a Christmas tree.
‘Maybe I realized you were right,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s not one way or the other. Maybe there’s a shared way, but there has to be another way.’
‘Maybe there is,’ I say. ‘I don’t know what it is, but I do know I have to find one.’
