Page 10 of Christmas at Hollybush Farm
‘It’ll soon warm up,’ I say. ‘You’ll see.’
‘So, what’s the plan? I mean, your dad isn’t going to be in the mood for guests when he comes out,’ says Matthew.
I stare at him. ‘I’m still waiting to hear if he’s definitely allowed home today.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Once he’s home, I mean,’ he says. ‘Get him settled. Then we should get back. Great the heating’s on.’
‘Matthew …’ I turn from the range feeling mildly irritated, which is new for me: Matthew and I never argue. We just don’t. And this isn’t an argument, but he’s not seeing what’s going on here. ‘I can’t leave him. He’ll be just out of hospital.’
Matthew looks out of the front window onto the yard. ‘Is there anyone else who can drop in on him, make sure he’s got what he needs?’
‘There’s Myfanwy next door. But she and Dad haven’t spoken in years. All to do with a ram sale, I think … when Dad bought Bertie at the mart and Myfanwy had had her eye on him.’
The landline rings, making me jump.
‘Hi, I’m Evie, the nurse from the GP practice. I was just ringing to see how Edwin is.’
‘Oh, um, I’m waiting for news. Hoping he’ll be home soon.’
‘Okay, great. I’ll drop by over the next day or two.’
‘Really? Oh, that’s fantastic!’
‘No problem. I’ll add him to my list.’
I put down the phone.
‘Looks like solutions are often closer than you think,’ says Matthew. ‘I’ll get dressed,’ he says, hurrying upstairs. I hope I’ll have time to take him out to Gramps’s field before we go to the hospital to pick Dad up.
There’s another knock at the door. The dogs bark and I stand away from the warming range.
6
‘Myfanwy!’ I say, surprised to see her on the doorstep. She hasn’t changed a bit.
‘What’s the old bugger gone and done now, then?’ she asks gruffly. ‘Heard he’d landed himself in hospital. Won’t stay. Just came to check on the ewes, but you’re here now. I saw the light on, so I know they’re being looked after. Wouldn’t want them going without.’
‘He’s in hospital … sepsis.’
‘Ooh, nasty.’ Behind her I can see she’s driven herself here on an old Massey Ferguson tractor that looks older than me. ‘Bloody farmers, see, they think they’re invincible.’
The landline rings again. ‘Excuse me, I must get that! Come in,’ I wave to her as I dive to the phone and listen. I hang up and Myfanwy is still in the kitchen, waiting.
‘That was the hospital. Dad’s asking to come home. They’ve said they’ll only let him if there’s someone to look after him and there’s a medical professional on hand to check on him. If so, I can pick Dad up this afternoon …’ I say, as a wave of relief rushes over me. ‘I need to tell the nurse. As long as she’s on hand, and I’m here, he can come home. As long as we phone the hospital if there is any change at all!’ I look at Myfanwy, feeling that we’ve just dodged a bullet.
‘That is good news. I’ll bring some Welsh cakes. They might go with a cup of tea,’ she says matter-of-factly.
‘That’s really good of you, Myfanwy.’
‘No, not good of me. Your dad and I can’t stand each other. Haven’t seen the bugger since he outbid me on that ram at the mart. But we’re neighbouring farmers and it’s what we do. If we don’t look out for the stock, who else will? Besides,’ she says, a little quieter, the wind going out of her sails, ‘it’s very scary thinking he was alone here – anything might have happened. Could have been any one of us.’
She looks around the kitchen again. ‘We may not see eye to eye on lots of things, me and your dad. But I’d hate to think of another person being in trouble. Here, in case you need anything.’ She hands me a used envelope with her phone number on the back.
‘For when you go home, like, to …’ Her forehead wrinkles. ‘Where is it you are?’
‘All over the place at the moment. Mostly Cardiff, but I’m an area manager for the west of the country, mostly the hotels in the east of Wales. But Bristol too. Oh, this is Matthew, my partner,’ I say, as he appears dressed, in his jacket, carrying his overnight bag. He comes to stand beside me.
I can feel him wanting to say something about me becoming an overseas manager too and, for some reason, I pray he doesn’t. I don’t want anyone else to know before I’ve told Dad.
