‘No. I’m going to run it.’
‘Run it?’ He scoffs. ‘Run it as what?’
‘As it is. As a Christmas tree farm.’
His eyes flick towards the patch of trees in the distance. ‘But itisn’ta Christmas tree farm. Itwas,once, but it’s been abandoned for over four years now. As the owner of the adjoining land, I can tell you it’s in a hell of a state. How on earth do you intend to sort it out?’
‘Four years?’ I say in surprise. ‘It didn’t mention that on the auction site either.’ I avoid his question because I have absolutely no idea how I’m supposed to sort it out, and I try not to think about the little stone of dread that’s settled in my stomach at his words. It confirms the niggling fear I’ve had since I arrived: that thisisn’ta viable business and it will need a hell of a lot of work and investment – work I know nothing about and money I don’t have – to make it viable again.
He ignores my ignoring of his question. ‘You’re not what I expected at all.’
He runs his eyes down me from the cable-knit bobble hat weaved with sparkly thread to my black coat which I now realise is no match for the Scottish autumn air, and my muddy winter boots that were clean before I got out of the car.
‘What did you expect?’ I feel myself bristling, certain this conversation is going down some sort of sexist route.
‘Well, I had this daft idea that someone buying a Christmas tree farm might know the first thing about Christmas trees.’
‘How do you know I don’t? I could be the world’s leading expert on Christmas trees for all you know.’
‘You could.’ He gives a nod of agreement. ‘But your pristinely sparkly car has clearly never seen a dirt track before, your shiny boots have clearly never stepped in a puddle before now, your nails are clean, and from the look of horror and confusion on your face, I’d guess that this place is not what you thought it was going to be.’
I try to arrange my face into a non-horrified, non-confused look, but it probably makes me look like I need an ambulance.
All right, I don’t know the first thing about Christmas tree farming, but is it really that obvious? Between getting paperwork exchanged with the solicitors, getting hold of my landlord, and the small matter of packing everything I own, I figured I could learn when I got here.
‘I’m Noel.’ He holds out a hand and I stop rubbing his dog’s ear long enough to shake it. His earth-blackened hand is warm despite the chill in the air, and his rough skin rubs against mine as I slip my hand into his huge one. ‘That’s Gizmo.’
I grin at the name. ‘As in the Gremlin?’ I pull my head back and look at the dog, who’s got gorgeous markings – a white chest and brown sides, and around one eye is a big patch of white that extends over his head, making one side brown and one side white. ‘That’s such a perfect name, he looks just like Gizmo from the film.’
‘Ah,Gremlins. One of the most underrated Christmas films.’ He whistles the song Gizmo hums in the film, and the Gizmo in my arms turns his head to the side and his tail wags like he’s heard the tune many times before. I suppose if you have a dog named after Gizmo, whywouldn’tyou whistle Gizmo’s song to him at every opportunity?
‘I’m Leah.’ I realise I haven’t let go of his hand yet and quickly extract my fingers and go back to rubbing Gizmo’s ears. ‘I asked Santa for a mogwai every year when I was little. Never got one though. Can’t imagine why.’
‘Probably because they’re not real?’
‘Oh, really? I hadnoidea that a race of animatronic fictional creatures from an Eighties’ Christmas film didn’t actually exist. You’re not going to tell me that Santa doesn’t exist next and that reindeer can’t really fly, are you? What about the tooth fairy? It’s not the parents all along, is it? And what ofJurassic Park? Are you trying to say that itwasn’ta documentary?’
‘Hah.’ He laughs but his face shows he has no idea if I’m being sarcastic or not. ‘I’m sorry. You’ve totally thrown me. I expected the person who’d won the auction to be a property developer intending to flatten the place and build something new, not someone turning up and intending to run it as a tree farm again. And you’re seriously telling me that you’re not in the industry and you haven’t got any experience? Do you have any idea how much of a state this place is in? What on earth were you thinking?’
‘I was a little bit drunk, okay?’ I snap, annoyance creeping in again. ‘What’s it got to do with you whether I have any experience or not? I’d just caught my boyfriend cheating with half the office and I wanted to change my life. All right, it needs abitof work, but I wanted a challenge. What’s wrong with that?’
‘You weredrunk?’ His voice goes high with indignation. ‘Didn’t you even come for a viewing?’
‘Look, with hindsight, I realise that not viewing it first was a bad decision, but it was on the spur of the moment; the auction was ending and I had to decide then and there whether to go for it or not. There was another bidder and I didn’t even realise how much I wanted it until I put the very last bid in with four seconds to go.’
‘Four seconds.’ He shakes his head in disbelief. ‘How do you even do that?’
‘I buy a lot of shoes on eBay?’ I offer, hoping it might make him laugh but no such luck.
‘You bought a Christmas tree farm like it was a pair of shoes?’
‘No, I used my experience of buying shoes to win an auction. Not that it has anything to do with you, obviously.’
His eyebrows rise and he has the decency to look a bit guilty. ‘No, of course it doesn’t. I was only trying to figure out how insane my new neighbour might be.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t accost a complete stranger on the road and start telling them what they’re allowed to do withtheirmoney and make judgements about how they intend to runtheirproperty.’
‘People around here are going to comment, you may as well get used to it.’ He lets out an annoyed huff. ‘You bought a Christmas tree farm, with no experience of the industry, because you were drunk? What did you expect? Did you think you could stand back and watch the trees fell themselves, net themselves, and toddle off to market on their own?’
