Page 59 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘You used to love being in charge of them.’ He laughs too. ‘Getting us all organized, sorting out what we were eating …’
‘Mostly undercooked sausages and vodka shots.’
‘They were good days,’ says Owen.
‘They were,’ I agree.
‘Brilliant! A barbecue!’ says Llew, appearing from the back of the lorry. ‘Hey, Owen!’
‘Hi.’ He holds up a hand. ‘Fancy helping me to get this going?’
‘And, Dad, can you help me with some fairy lights in here? We can put up some greenery and weave fairy lights through it, around the entrance.’
‘On it,’ he calls back. ‘This feels so good. As Owen says, like old times.’
We hang multicoloured fairy lights across the ceiling of the lorry and round the door, and put up a cork board Evie has made, listing what we serve: jacket potatoes with various fillings, cawl and bread.
‘I suppose I’d better let people know where we are. Anyone seen Mae?’
We shake our heads.
‘You don’t think she’s got cold feet, do you?’ Evie asks.
I check my phone to see if she’s messaged, just as Mae arrives, out of breath and red in the face. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she pants. ‘Sorry, had to stop at the school to take in PE kit that Corey forgot. But you’re not going to believe what I saw on the way here! How did you get in?’
‘The gate was open. Llew just pushed it back.’ I smile at him. ‘Have you got the jacket spuds?’ I ask.
‘Yup, here.’ This time she’s carrying them in a washing basket with a Thomas the Tank Engine duvet.
‘Great!’ I say, then frown. ‘So what’s got you hot under the collar?’
‘Look.’ She pulls out her phone and shows me the screen. I frown some more.
‘That’s Beti’s Café!’
‘Yes!’ she says. ‘Now part of the Coffi Poeth group.’
‘Ah …’ I muse. ‘I know them. They’re popping up everywhere. Well, it’s looking smart, I’ll say that.’ The new signage is much like that in their other stores. ‘Looks like Beti’s Formica is out.’
‘But their prices. So expensive! And they’re going to do specials … jacket potatoes and Welsh specialities. They’ve stolen our ideas.’
I screw up my eyes and try to read the story on Instagram.
‘What?’
‘“New additions to our menu!”’
Llew is reading it over my shoulder and, despite the seriousness of what Mae’s saying, I’m enjoying the closeness of him being there. ‘Stealing your idea and rolling it out as their own. Looks like you’ve got competition,’ says Llew.
I take a huge breath.
‘Well, we’ll see about that,’ Mae says. She shoves her phone into her pocket and puts down the washing basket of potatoes in the lorry.
‘Where are you going?’ I ask. ‘We should get ready to open.’
‘I’m not going to be made an idiot of any more!’ She marches out of the cattle market towards the high street and the café.
‘No, Mae,’ I call after her, into the sharp wind. ‘Let’s just show them we were here first!’ But she’s not listening and is set on confronting them.
