Page 40 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘Did he?’
‘That annoying woman in the cottage told me he’dattacked her before. But I’m guessing he’s been getting out and in with the ewes.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Some of them could have been pregnant before they were meant to be.’
Dad goes silent.
‘Don’t worry,’ I comfort him, as he owns up to one of the balls he’s dropped lately. ‘I’ve mended the fence.’
‘Thank you. I’ve been meaning to do it. But with so much else to manage, and it being just me …’
‘I can stay on, Dad,’ I say.
He shakes his head, and the pink hat wobbles. ‘No, Jem, I can’t let you. You have a job to get back to and a trip you’re going to tell me about. You don’t want to be here looking after me. I’ll be fine.’
‘That’s what you always say,’ I remind him crossly. ‘And, clearly, it’s not fine! Besides, it’s not just a trip, Dad. It’s not a holiday. They want me to move out there. Take over a new hotel. Extend the brand. Me and Matthew. I know you wanted me to spread my wings, see the world, Dad, and that’s what this is. But I don’t want to leave. I’m not Mum. And I don’t need to prove anything to anyone, especially not to Mum.’
I notice Llew Griffiths’s car has gone and wonder if he has too.
‘Okay, so maybe fine’s pushing it a bit. But I’m getting by, Jem. I can’t let you stay for me.’
‘Getting by, but only just, with money from the potatoes you’re selling to the café.’
‘I know, I know,’ he says, brushing me off, and peering out of the window as we pass the flock. This place, the sheep, the way of life, makes him happy. And if people like Dad aren’t producing food to put on our tables, who is? Super-farmers from the States or elsewhere, and the last thing on their minds is the welfare of the animals. I get cross all over again.
I put the windscreen wipers on as the rain returns.
‘It’s just it’s not easy for one. I don’t have the same energy to do it just for me. But I’ll do better when you go, I promise,’ he says, not catching my eye.
We drive in silence for a while, looking at the hedges still heavy with berries.
‘Going to be a cold one,’ I say. ‘Isn’t that what you always said if the hedges were full of berries?’
‘Or maybe just a tough one,’ says Dad, thoughtfully. ‘But Mother Nature seems to find ways of providing.’
If only she would for Dad and the farm.
I pull up outside the café. The blinds are drawn. For a moment I think about the new job in Seattle. Ishouldbe thinking about it. I know Dad thinks I should take it. But I can’t stop thinking about this place, the big companies taking over the independents, the farmers who can’t feed their families. I get out of the Land Rover and pull my coat around me.
I knock on the café door. There’s no reply. ‘Mae, it’s Jem.’
The blind is pulled back, just a bit. There she is, the shy girl from school, who wouldn’t say boo to a goose but has taken on her bosses. She waves and beckons me in. She opens the door a little way.
‘Are you okay? Cold?’ I ask.
‘I’m fine. The fire’s in.’ She points to the wood-burner.
‘Anyone been here?’ I ask
She shakes her head. ‘It’s just me. Owen’s gone to check on his heifers. He’ll be back soon.’
‘I brought you some cawl. Thought we could take some to Twm Bach as well for lunch.’
‘Good idea! I’m starving – I’ve eaten all the ice-cream wafers and the cheese and onion crisps.’
‘I’ve got Dad in the Land Rover. Can he come in too?’
