Page 72 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘I’m happy to help,’ says Owen. ‘It’ll stop me thinking about another Christmas without the girls.’ Evie stretches out a hand and touches his arm.
‘Anything I can do,’ says Myfanwy, looking at Dad, and I can see a growing affection between the two of them.
‘And me!’ says Dad. ‘It’ll be a proper town get-together! Can’t wait! Best Christmas in a long time!’ He beams, and I couldn’t agree more. If only Llew was here to see it.
‘So we get it out on social media … a tractor run and food-truck festival! Christmas Eve at the cattle market.’ I’m making a list. ‘And we get in touch with the local producers, anyone who wants to come and set up a stand.’
Evie packs away her blood-pressure kit. ‘Hot dogs would be good!’ she says.
‘I could do the barbecue again,’ says Owen. ‘All those years of Young Farmers parties have come in useful after all.’ He smiles. ‘And camping with the girls! I’ll suggest it for the holidays, maybe Easter. I’ll talk to their mum.’
Evie smiles. ‘Good plan. I know they’d love that just as much as Disneyland.’
‘They could come here,’ I say, ‘if that’s all right, Dad?’
‘Brilliant idea!’ He gives a thumbs-up.
‘They could come and see the lambs, help feed them,’ I say. ‘Get them involved on the farm.’
‘I could do some knitting with them too. Make blankets for the lambs that need warming up,’ says Evie.
‘That would be great. Now the heifers have gone, my girls don’t really get outdoors. It’s all computer games,’ says Owen, regretfully.
‘Time we got young people back on the farm and helping,’ I say.
‘Thanks, Jem.’
‘I can’t wait to see tents on the field! Like we did as kids,’ I recall.
‘And the smell of bacon cooking in the early morning, dew on the ground,’ Owen puts in. ‘Best bacon butties ever!’
‘Hear, hear!’ says Dad.
‘I’ll do cakes,’ says Myfanwy, ‘for the food market.’
‘Great,’ I say, adding it to the list.
‘I’ll bring a table,’ Myfanwy goes on, ‘which means I’ll have a proper pitch and will pay for it. Might make some mince pies too.’
‘Okay if I bring some dog scarves to sell, last-minute present ideas?’ asks Evie.
‘Of course!’ I say. ‘Great idea!’
‘I’ll bring the generator for lights and music,’ says Owen.
‘So that’s it! We’re going to do it!’
‘Yes!’ we all say.
‘Let’s get it on social media, then.’ I pick up my phone and set off for the feed shed. ‘We have a farm to save here,’ I say, over my shoulder. ‘And not just one farm. We all need to make a living. This might be the way to save us all from selling up or out.’
32
Christmas Eve
The farmhouse kitchen is full of the smell of cawl, shepherd’s pie and spicy hogget curry, just like it was when Nan was here, cooking up a storm. It feels like she’s right here with me, Gramps too.
‘Looks like we’re all set, Dad,’ I say to him. He’s wearing an elf’s hat with large pink pointed ears. ‘Let’s just hope word has spread, the tractors turn out, and plenty of people.’
