Page 70 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘A Christmas event, for the community,’ says Myfanwy. ‘Give them a little Christmas spirit. It’s what this place has been lacking for a year, ever since the out-of-town stores moved in and people stopped seeing each other.’
‘Something like that, but we haven’t got long. There’s someone interested in the cattle market already, as we know. But’ – I turn to Dad – ‘it would mean, if we could make it into a profitable business, we wouldn’t have to sell Gramps’s field. We couldrun the cattle market and turn it into a full-time business.’
Dad gazes at me. Part of me wonders if he’ll tell me that selling off the land is the sensible option. I hold my breath.
Then, suddenly, he smiles. ‘We’d be daft not to try,’ he says, his eyes twinkly. ‘“Faint heart never won fair maiden!”’
‘But how?’ says Mae. ‘How would we do it?’
‘Well, we could do a food-truck fair somewhere else, show people what we’re trying to do.’
‘Yes,’ they all agree. ‘But where?’
None of us comes up with an answer. My phone pings and I look down at it.
Missing the cattle lorry. Best jacket potatoes around!someone has messaged.
Loved the shepherd’s pies!says another.
I pick up my phone and read out the messages. ‘We could speak to the cattle-market owners, see if they’ll let us do one night. A Christmas food-truck fair there!’ I feel a growing excitement. ‘A gesture of goodwill. We ask local food producers to join us there for one evening. Ask for a donation for the pitch and explain we’re trying to make it a regular feature. A go-to destination for local food …’
We all look at each other, waiting for someone to say why it’s not a good idea.
No one speaks.
The tinsel and fairy lights glitter.
‘A Christmas fair on the cattle market to raise enough to get the lease …’
‘Before anyone else does! Or buys it!’
‘Or smothers it in solar panels,’ says Owen.
‘Affordable good food!’ says Mae.
‘A proper town Christmas fair,’ says Owen.
‘Perfect!’ says Dad, and smiles at Myfanwy. ‘But we haven’t got long. We need to get the word out, get the community behind us.’
‘What about … a tractor run?’ says Owen.
‘Oh, yes!’ say Myfanwy and Dad, beaming.
‘A what?’ Mae laughs.
I’m still scrolling through the pictures on my phone of the lunches in the cattle lorry at the market. I loved it.
‘All the farmers put lights on their tractors and drive through the villages and into the town and end up somewhere where there’s music and food. They carry buckets and raise money on the way,’ says Myfanwy. ‘We used to do it every Christmas. End up back at one of the farms. They were great fun!’
‘And think of the content for the socials,’ I say, still scrolling. ‘It would really get people talking about what we’re trying to do. But we do a GoFundMe page too, to raise the money and try to get the deposit together to buy the lease.’
‘Post your videos about why it’s important.’ Mae waggles a finger at my phone, making me laugh.
‘It’s brilliant,’ says Evie to Owen, leaning in and kissing him, him kissing her back. And we give a little cheer at the love these two have found in each other, and the glow in their cheeks.
And I can’t help but wish I’d found someone to share that spark with, and think I may have done. He just isn’t here to share this moment with us. I wish I’d been brave enough to tell him how I feel. I wasn’t being brave with Matthew. I was playing it safe, like I have in my job all these years. It’s time to throw caution to the snowy wind and see which way it takes me.
‘Just one thing. How are we going to get Deborah Atkins to agree to this?’ asks Dad.
