By the time he could form a protest, she was already dashing into the farm shop. Struan raked a hand through his thickening stubble, lids fluttering closed in an attempt to block the memory of his blunder. He was still there minutes later when Rae headed down to the fruit fields with the dogs trailing behind, trainers swapped for wellies and baskets piled in her hands. She really did never stop.
His stomach grumbled, a reminder of how empty it was. Hers must have been, too. If she wasn’t going to take care of herself, surely someone else had to do it for her.
And since nobody else appeared to be volunteering for the job, he figured it would have to be him.
He found her forty minutes later, hidden among the thorny tayberry shrubs with half a basket already filled in her gloved hands.At the sound of his boots squishing through the soft mud, she shaded her eyes from the sun to look at him.
The sigh she let out was humbling, to say the least. ‘You’re still here.’
‘And I can tell how happy you are about it.’ He set down the picnic basket and folded blanket, all courtesy of Audrey, who also hadn’t been happy to hear that Rae was skipping dinner to work. She’d dolloped out a big bowl of pasta salad for them to share, muttering something about that stubborn wee lass being too good for her cooking. ‘If you won’t come to dinner with me, I’ll bring dinner to you.’
She dropped a handful of vibrant pink berries into her collection, then warily lifted the straw lid of the picnic basket to examine the food inside. The pasta was accompanied by homemade shortbread and more of Audrey’s beloved strawberry wine – the latter, he’d had to work for a little. It was supposed to be going to the shop, but she hadn’t been able to resist his batting lashes and charming wink in the end. At leastsomeonesaw him as more than just a numpty who didn’t know when to shut it.
‘You’re very persistent,’ she noted.
‘That’s because I’m hungry, and so are you. I know you’re all stressed at the minute, but I don’t think keeling over from starvation is going to help.’
‘I think I’ll survive just fine.’
He hummed, assessing the berries. ‘Is there a reason they couldn’t wait until tomorrow?’
‘They’re overripe, so I’m going to can them ready for weekend visitors. Leave them unplucked too long, and they go to waste.’ Maybe shedidshare too many qualities with berries.‘At least this way, we have something to stock the farm shop with.’ She went back to plucking the fruit off their stems with the same amount of focus she’d displayed while cooking last night. She seemed to treat everything like that, as though she could only work if she was pouring all of herself into the task: the opposite of Struan and his goldfish-like tendencies to become distracted. The alternative seemed even more exhausting.
‘Your dad isn’t happy with you,’ he couldn’t help but confess, helping her harvest in the hopes that she’d finally eat with him afterwards. His first attempt was too rough, causing the berry to burst all over his thumb. He licked the juice, tried again, carefully manoeuvring around the overgrown thorns. ‘He told me to tell you to stop faffing around and come inside.’
‘He doesn’t like admitting he needs help.’ Rae watched his poor technique without much approval. ‘It’s better to use two hands, and keep a little bit of the stem. If they resist, they’re probably not ready enough yet. The darkest berries are the ripest.’
‘Yes, chef.’ He took her advice, saving the pale pink berries in favour of the ones deeper in colour. Maybe Rae was right to take over the farm. It seemed like some of the shrubs hadn’t been tended to in a long time, branches extending their gnarled limbs towards the fence and jade leaves drooping towards the ground. ‘So, what are you planning to make with these?’
‘Gran will probably take some for her wines, and I’ll make jam out of the rest, though I was thinking of sorbets, too.’ She hesitated,and he stayed quiet, an invitation to say whatever it was that had her worrying at her lip. ‘My mum used to make ice cream back when she lived here. It might be nice to start doing that again, if only for the fair.’
‘Sounds like a great idea to me.’ He didn’t know much about her mum. Couldn’t remember if he’d ever met her. ‘Is she planning on visiting?’
The freckles on her nose folded together in an adorable, albeit begrudging, wrinkle. ‘She’d never set foot here again. She tried the whole farmer’s wife thing, but she just resented how difficult it was in the end. She’s much happier away from all this, and honestly, the rest of us prefer it that way, too.’
‘You don’t get on?’
A shrug. ‘Once she left, she stopped making the effort. It was hard not to feel abandoned, even if she gave me the choice to go with her. This is my home, y’know? It didn’t feel fair that I had to decide between the two of them, especially when one of them expected me to give up my entire life.’
He wondered if that was why she’d spent so much time at his house growing up. Mum and Dad had bickered occasionally, but they’d always been solid. He couldn’t imagine watching his parents grow so estranged, nor how uncomfortable it would have been to get caught in the crossfire.
Yet Rae had left, too, in the end. Did she regret her decision to stay at Sweetbriar as a kid?
How long before she got tired and took off again?
‘Are you glad you stayed?’ he enquired gently.
She nodded. ‘I don’t think my mum really wanted either of us. She’s happy now. Retired early, travels a lot, dates random blokes. A lot of them are called Gavin, for some reason.’
He snorted, though it was dulled by sadness. Mum had waited until they’d been adults to move away. She’d given them everything they needed to get by. She wasn’t perfect, but she’d been there, the way a parent was supposed to be. Rae should never have gone without that same love.
‘Who’ll take care of the farm when Doug eventually retires?’
She shuffled along to the next shrub, obviously avoiding him. He kept his distance, finding a calming pattern in the picking and dropping, even as he acquired a few scratches. It was the same way he felt on the mountains, the reason why he spent so much of his life outside. With the wind bracing through him and his body in constant motion, it was more difficult for his busy mind to catch up. Being stuck in a classroom for hours on end all day, every day, had made him miserable and restless and suffocated. He’d still tried the nine-to-five like Martha and Mum after graduating: in a warehouse, a local supermarket, had even trained to be a bus driver. In the end, he’d felt wrung out and imprisoned, all his energy wasted on gruelling, repetitive tasks he didn’t enjoy. Quitting had felt like admitting defeat, especially with an ADHD diagnosis. Everybody expected it, and he’d so badly wanted to prove them wrong. Mum was disappointed that he’d never found the success and stability Martha had – but he got to do the thing he loved now, even if it would never get him a mortgage, so he supposed that meant he wasn’t a failure. Just walking a different path.
‘I don’t know.’ Rae’s voice trembled slightly. ‘Me, maybe.’
‘And your kids, I bet.’
