The vehicle reached us and the driver – a woman probably in her early thirties – slowed down.
‘Good morning!’ I said, smiling at her. ‘Are you here to visit the animals?’
There was another woman in the passenger seat but the back windows were blackened and, without getting uncomfortably close, I couldn’t see if there was anyone in the back.
‘We are. It’s definitely under new management, right?’
‘Yes! My name’s Grace, this is my friend Jude, and I own the farm with my mam, Frances, who’s in the café.’
‘The café’s open?’ she asked, her eyes shining.
‘It is, although we’re starting with a limited selection.’
‘As long as I can get a coffee and a cake, I’m happy,’ her companion said.
‘We have both,’ I said, smiling at her.
‘We used to come all the time,’ the driver said. ‘The kids loved the animals – we all did – but me and my sister love a bit of cake when we meet up, don’t we, Becca?’
‘We live for cake and we got sick of finding the café closed so we stopped coming. Then Gabby saw the piece in the paper yesterday and we thought we’d give you a chance.’
‘I’m delighted you have and I hope you enjoy your visit. Parking’s in the same place as before and the entrance is still through the café. Jude and I will be near the horses so feel free to ask us any questions or explore at your leisure – whatever works best for you.’
They thanked us and pulled away. Jude slipped her arm round my waist.
‘First strangers to arrive and it sounds like they’ll be regulars. The magic begins here. I think we’ll have others today but, even if we don’t, this is a start.’
It was and the great news was they’d seen the article in theNorthumberland Newsand decided to give a much-loved destination another chance. With any luck, there’d be others like them as well as those who’d never been before – perhaps didn’t even know we existed – and it would build from there.The magic starts here.
35
Gabby and Becca had a baby and two toddlers with them and, when I saw them by Lane End later admiring Icarus, Scout and Ziggy, they shared that they also had a school-aged child each and would return at the weekend with them. It warmed my heart to see how much they were enjoying themselves.
‘I’m eager to hear feedback if there’s anything you feel can be improved,’ I told the sisters.
They looked at each other and shrugged.
‘It looks so much tidier and more loved than before,’ Gabby said, ‘and the information in the stables is a great addition.’
‘The only thing I can think of is to add some benches,’ Becca said. ‘We’ve brought our mam and gran before but Gran’s not so steady on her feet now. She’d want to see the animals but she’d need somewhere to rest afterwards. I wouldn’t want her sitting by herself in the café while we’re outside.’
‘That’s really helpful, thanks. Consider me on it.’
Benches were such an obvious need but we’d never done anything like this before and there were bound to be loads of things we’d missed. Funnily enough, we had talked about picnic benches and had dismissed them as we wanted to encouragevisitors to use the café rather than bring their own food, but we hadn’t considered benches as a place to rest rather than a place to eat.
The sisters and their little ones were our only visitors during the morning but that didn’t concern me as it had given Mam time to train Willow in using the till and coffee machine. Hope, Jude, Willow, Mam and I all had lunch together and had just cleared away when an older couple – possibly in their early eighties – arrived.
‘We’re so happy to see the place open again,’ the woman said as she paid.
‘You’ve been before?’ Mam asked.
‘We used to come all the time and were so sad when that lovely young Shelley left.’
She introduced herself as Jeanette and her husband as John and told us that John had a special affinity with heavy horses.
‘His dad used to work on a farm with heavy horses – proper working animals – and John helped feed them when he was little. Brings back happy childhood memories, doesn’t it, love? Tell them the story.’
‘I must have been about five,’ John said in a broad Yorkshire accent. ‘I’d been begging me dad to let me ride on one of the horses – a beautiful Clydesdale called Trigger. Dad were leading Trigger back to the farm and he put me on. He were a working horse so he had no saddle but it didn’t bother me. I stayed on all t’way back to the farmyard and were right chuffed with meself. Then Trigger stops by the water trough for a drink, dips his head and I slide down his neck and straight into the trough. Right dunking, that were. I’ve never forgotten.’
