Page 19 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘Like I said at the hospital, we’re not together any more.’
‘Ah, yes …’
I stand at the top of Gramps’s field and look out. ‘It must have been hard, giving up something you love.’
He nods. ‘It was. And the whole social-media thing got to me. Lots of people commenting on me, how I played. I just … lost confidence. Never went back to it. Just fell out of love with the game. And social media.’
‘I’ll get that gate back on.’ I jerk a thumb at it, next to the car, which is crumpled against the wall. I can’t help thinking again that either of us could have ended up in the river. I shudder. I’m suddenly very grateful to be here, on the farm, a place I love, with my dad. Work, with the hustle and bustle of the run-up to Christmas in the big hotel, seems very far away. I can breathe here, really breathe.
‘I can help,’ he says.
‘Are you sure? I don’t want you to hurt your back.’
‘It’s fine. Doctor wasn’t worried. This is just lifting the gate onto its hinges.’
‘Okay, if you’re sure.’
Between us, we lift the gate and gently put it back on its hinges, and while we’re there, we fix the listing farm sign so it hangs straight now.
I stand and stare at it, with the pride I know Dad feels for this place. I couldn’t be happier that he is going to have someone working with him again, keeping the farm going.
‘Thanks. I should probably head back and check on Dad,’ I say, feeling I could stand here all day right now.
‘Yes, of course. And thank you. Good to get out and get moving.’
‘You’re welcome. And don’t feel you have to rush off. Get your car sorted.’
‘Thank you. I will.’ He looks at me and, for just a moment, there’s that spark again, just a zip to and fro between us. But it’s more than that. It was good to share this walk with someone. Just like I’d hoped to do with Matthew.
‘I’ll head to the feed shed. That one up there, is it?’ He points to the top of the drive, above the yard.
I smile. ‘Best service around here,’ I say. ‘Serves as a useful little office. And if you get cold, there’s some sheepskin rugs you can sit on, or whatever. Help yourself to tea from the farmhouse if you want it.’
He waves his phone at me and heads towards it.
I stand and breathe it all in, just a little longer, enjoying the peace.
I stroke Ffion’s head as she sits beside me looking out over the flock on the lower field, ever vigilant, always there. And I’m so glad she was here for Dad when he fell ill, and when I go back to work, she’ll be his companion, with Llew Griffiths to help. I smile.
‘It’s all going to be okay, Ffi,’ I say, hearing Dad’s voice all those years ago, reassuring me. Because it is.
11
Back in the farmhouse I pull off my hat and coat and hang them by the back door. I slide off my boots and notice that the cracks are getting bigger. I find some tape in the drawer on the dresser and patch them up. That should last for now, I think. This time next week I’ll be back in smart black court shoes and suits.
I walk to the range, almost as if it’s pulling me towards its warmth. The kettle is still hot. I make Dad another cup of tea and put a Welsh cake on a plate, then take it upstairs to him in bed.
‘I was just getting up,’ he says, his legs out of bed. I put the tea on the chest of drawers and slide them back under the covers.
‘Dad! You’re not well. You’ve got to take it easy.’
‘I can’t stay here in bed all day, Jem love. It goesagainst everything I know. I need to check on things. See the flock.’
‘The flock is fine. I’ve fed them. The dogs are sorted too. And I’ve even been round checking some of the fence posts with Llew.’
‘With Llew?’
‘Yes. He’s up in the feed shed, trying to get his car sorted. We fixed some of the fence posts to make sure Bertie and Harriet can’t escape again, and put the gate back on its hinges. He even helped me straighten the farm sign,’ I say happily. ‘I think he’s going to be a great addition around here, Dad.’
