Page 21 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘No, it’s fine. You’re the one who needs to be careful,’ I say, picking up the papers that were there, as Dewi leaps and bounds for them.
‘Sit, good boy!’ I say, then look down at the papers.
‘My car’s going to be towed away,’ Llew is saying. ‘They’ll see if they can fix it. Might take a few days. They’re struggling to get me a replacement at the moment.’
‘Well, it’s good that they’re going to fix yours,’ I say.
‘I’ll collect up my stuff and get out of your hair.’
And I feel a little disappointment. ‘It was nice having you here,’ I say, thinking that perhaps I’m being a little flirtatious too and I shouldn’t be. I have a partner, Matthew. But I mean it. I enjoyed Llew’s company today. But I shouldn’t be giving any wrong signals and suddenly feel a little embarrassed. ‘I didn’t mean anything by that. It was just nice. Nice to have some company. The farm can be lonely at times. It’s hard doing this on your own. Don’t know how Dad keeps on with it. I’ve suggested he leave but I know he won’t. Maybe I’ll try to persuade him again, to come with me. Especially if you’re going to be working together. Get him to come on a long holiday to stay with me – us,’ I correct myself.
I look down at the papers in my hand, and see something I recognize. ‘Oh, it’s from you!’ I look at the familiar name again. ‘Llew Griffiths.’
He looks at me, saying nothing, just watching my face. I get a fizzing feeling in my stomach again. I glance down at the letter. Maybe I get to find out exactly what ‘the plan’ is, with him and Dad, and read until I reach the end.
I look at the logo at the top of the page, trying to take in what I’ve read. I look up at him. He still says nothing, and I reread it, the colour draining from my face.
‘You …’ My tongue feels as if it’s got twisted inmy mouth. ‘Is this you?’ I look up at him to double-check. He isn’t smiling. His face is harder now. We’re not making friends, fixing fence posts and enjoying being outdoors.
‘It is,’ he says slowly, holding my stare steadily. ‘Your dad and I have been in talks for some weeks now. I was hoping he’d discussed it with you.’
All of sudden I feel cold, very cold. The dogs slide into the kitchen onto the mat in front of the range as if they’re feeling the temperature change in the room. I lift my chin. ‘No. He hasn’t. He did say he had something to discuss …’
‘It’s … a very good offer,’ he says, with a little cough, slipping into business mode, as do I.
I say very slowly, as if I’m processing the offer, ‘You want to buy Gramps’s field?’
‘Yes.’ He nods.
‘And,’ I raise an eyebrow, ‘put solar panels on it?’
‘We work with companies who want to give something back, offset any carbon footprint by producing cleaner energy.’
For a moment I say nothing.
‘It’s a good offer,’ he repeats.
‘And, this cleaner energy, does it help the people around here? The ones struggling with fuel bills, who’ll have to put up with the panels instead of livestock on the countryside. Will it make their lives better?’
‘It … goes to the national grid,’ he says.
‘So it doesn’t benefit the community at all?’
‘No, but it will help your dad to stay here for longer.’
‘By selling off parcels to you to ease the consciences of big business!’ And I’m not sure where this fury is bubbling up from. Suddenly I feel like battle lines have been drawn. He’s on one side and I’m on the other.
‘Well, yes, the likes of you and your bosses. Flying around the world, sourcing products for price more than provenance!’ he retorts. ‘We’re all here to try to make a living.’
Touché!I feel like I’ve been slapped.
The words sting. He’s right. I’m as bad as the people wanting to buy up the land and put their solar panels on it. I turn away and look into the fire.
‘I’ll get my things. Let me know if you want to talk.’
I say nothing. Then, in disbelief, I turn back to him and say again, ‘You want to buy Gramps’s field.’
‘Yes. Your dad, Edwin, was saying the farm was becoming too much for him. We’ve made an offer to buy the land.’
