‘I suppose we should be going too,’ Lettie said smiling first at Bethan and then at Brodie, causing a strange sensation in his stomach.He reminded himself that she was probably going to be a client and the thought made his mood dip. ‘I’ve got to be up early for a lesson in how to drive Dad’s tractor and I’m not looking forward to it.’
‘I doubt Dad will be either,’ Zac quipped giving Brodie a wink and making him laugh, relieved for the distraction.
5
LETTIE
The following morning, after almost crashing her father’s beloved tractor into a copse of trees, Lettie decided to take a walk to calm herself. She began on the farm, intending to familiarise herself once again with the fields, but this time she was looking at everywhere with a view to farming it and the crops either being planted or harvested in each one rather than just enjoying the scenery. If she was to take this place on then she needed to know exactly what she would be dealing with. Her father might have agreed to give her a chance but she knew he was nervous about leaving her to do the work. Rightly so, she reminded herself, picturing his puce face when she finally gained control of the tractor after a lot of trial and error.
She breathed in deeply, enjoying the fresh spring air. As she strode to the top field, she was surprised to notice Zac drive away in their mother’s car.
She thought back to the previous evening and her shock at seeing Brodie in the pub with Bethan. She suspected Bethan liked him by the way she watched him intently whenever he spoke. It still smarted that he didn’t remember her, or their one and only kiss.She might have been fifteen and him a couple of years older, but she had given him her number when he had asked for it, promising to text and arrange a date for them to go out to the cinema. Lettie remembered only too well the mortification and heartache she had suffered for weeks afterwards when no text appeared. Had her kiss been that unmemorable to him? It certainly hadn’t been for her. Lettie sighed. All those years dreaming that one day he would come and sweep her off her feet, tell her she was the most beautiful girl he had ever laid eyes on, or simply plead with her to go out with him on a date.
‘Hah, like that’s ever going to happen.’ She began walking again. Not that she wanted to date him. No. She had moved on now, thankfully, as had her taste in men. She thought of Scott and his superior attitude and decided that maybe she had moved on in the wrong direction.
She was back on the island for another week before returning to London. She had already emailed her boss to let him know she was happy to be one of those made redundant from the company and was determined to make the most of her time here before leaving. She had no intention of letting someone like Brodie Murray ruin her enjoyment of being back on the island.
Being here was so much nicer than the exhaust-fumed air she was used to in London. She imagined her daily commute changing from forty minutes on packed tubes crammed up against weary travellers, who were wet some days and sweaty during the hotter summer months, and realised there was no comparison to being back at Hollyhock Farm. At least here all she needed to do was dress and walk outside. No more struggling to find the cost of her monthly rent, or resent having to pay excessive amounts for train or tube fees simply to get to a job that paid her far less than she had hoped to receive. Or have to worry about coming face to face with Scott in the staff canteen, or in one of the corridors any longer andhave to deal with him whining about her being too hasty to end their relationship and the reasons why he felt she should give him a second chance.
No more fantasising about Brodie either. Not after last night and the realisation that he clearly hadn’t given her a second’s thought since that school disco and certainly hadn’t spent the best part of a decade dreaming what might have been between the two of them. She had her sights set on far more important things now than fantasising about a good-looking vet.
Having opened herself up to potentially moving back home, it dawned on Lettie that she wouldn’t miss living in the capital all that much. She could always visit friends there, if she felt the need for a little excitement, or she could invite them over to stay at the farm, if she wasn’t able to get away. The thought settled her slightly. Yes, she could move back here and settle in again – she was sure of it.
Each step through the luscious grass towards the five-bar gate reaffirmed her determination that she was doing the right thing. She might be putting herself in a position where she would need to learn an enormous amount, and have to learn it quickly, but surely her dad would teach her all she needed to know. And, she hoped, her parents might agree to delay their holiday plans and stay in Jersey long enough for her to settle in properly and really learn the ropes.
‘Hello, girls,’ she said reaching the paddock where her father’s small herd of older cows he had kept after selling the main herd a decade before were contentedly grazing. She recalled her father saying how Jersey cows lived on average until they were twenty-five, three years longer than most other breeds of cow. The first few cows noticed her and began ambling over to greet her. They really were beautiful, with their huge dark eyes. Lettie smiled fondly at them, stroking their soft faces and ears, trying to recognise some of them.
Warm from her uphill walk, she undid her cotton jacket andtied it around her waist, wanting to make the most of the sunshine. She wished she still didn’t need to return to London to find someone to take over her room in the flat she shared with Nessa and pack everything up to send it back to the island.
She felt a sneeze coming and remembered how it felt to suffer from hay fever. Damn. She had forgotten about this and knew she was going to have to buy some antihistamines to stop it from happening most days. The last thing she wanted was a runny nose and puffy, watery eyes. She had enough to contend with making her plans come to fruition successfully without dealing with that sort of thing.
Was she overestimating her ability to do this? She looked around at the beautiful scenery and down the hill to the granite farmhouse with its wooded area to the back and walled yard to the right-hand side. The driveway curved away through more trees so that Lettie’s view was partially obstructed. The village was only a ten-minute walk from the end of their driveway where her mother shopped for small things, preferring to visit the bigger stores in St Helier fifteen minutes’ drive away for larger items.
She pictured the village pub where she and Zac had enjoyed Bethan and Brodie’s company the previous evening. As well as the pub, the village had a garage and several small businesses including the food store, veterinary practice, a doctor’s surgery, a tiny pharmacy, a small café, and a hairdresser; everything she could want.
If she felt like going out for the evening to a restaurant or nightclub with friends all she needed to do was take the bus that conveniently stopped a little way down the road from their driveway into town. Not that Lettie could see herself wanting to do too much of that. She had lost contact with most of her friends since going away to university and decided she’d had her fill of nightclubs during her time living on the mainland. And, she reminded herself, if she was going to be working as hard for as many hours as she had witnessedher father doing, then she doubted she would have any energy to do much at the end of each day other than fall into her bed and sleep.
A while later, as she walked slowly towards the yard, past the purply blue carpet of bluebells, she spotted an old blue Land Rover coming down the drive, its wheels throwing up clouds of dust in its wake. She stopped and peered at the vehicle. It wasn’t one she recognised. She didn’t recognise the driver either, which was unusual. Not that she could make him out very clearly as the driver appeared to be wearing a peaked cap. The vehicle stopped just inside the yard and her brother got out of the passenger door. What was he doing? she wondered, and where had he left their mother’s car?
Picking up her pace, wanting to find out if he had been in an accident, Lettie arrived at the open yard gate in time to see the two men enter the house. She followed them inside and hearing voices coming from the kitchen went to meet their guest.
‘Ah, there she is,’ Zac said looking suspiciously pleased with himself.
‘Here I am,’ she said unnecessarily.
The guest turned, and any further quips she had ready to share vanished. He pushed his sandy hair from his forehead and she realised it was Brodie. Lettie stared at him, taking in the tall, well-built man, his neatly trimmed hair and tortoiseshell glasses that seemed to have a habit of slipping down his Roman nose, making her wonder if she really was going to be able to act calmly whenever he was around. Either way he seemed very comfortable in their large farmhouse kitchen.
Lettie realised her brother, mother and Brodie were watching her and it dawned on her they were waiting for her to say something. Had someone asked her something?
‘Why don’t you three sit down,’ their mother suggested givingLettie a concerned look. ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Unless you’d prefer coffee, Brodie?’
‘I’d love a coffee if you don’t mind, Mrs Torel.’
Damn, she thought, even his voice had an effect on her.
‘Letts.’ She realised Zac was addressing her.
‘Sorry, I was thinking. What is it?’ She hoped Brodie hadn’t noticed her reaction to him.
