Page 8 of The Twilight Garden

Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘Right, no pudding for you then.’

‘Aww… please?’ Cat batted her eyelashes. ‘May I remind you of my offer to help you sort all this lot out?’ She indicated the pile of boxes around them. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘I’ve cancelled the removal firm, but this lot will have to go into storage for now. Do you reckon we can manage that between us?’

Cat grinned. ‘Piece of cake.’

‘It’s chocolate mousse, actually,’ Gemma replied, shoving another forkful of pasta into her mouth.

4

General Assistant required to help with the development of a smallholding project. Previous experience is less essential than the desire to tackle whatever is required, but the job does require the person to be physically fit as some lifting and manual labour will be involved. Full board and lodging provided. Please contact Willow for more information.

‘Ah…’ The woman in front of Gemma smiled apologetically, swivelling Gemma’s phone back around to face her, the details of the advert she’d answered filling the screen. ‘I couldn’t really remember what I’d written. It was quite some time ago now. Six months or more, I think.’ She thrust her hands under the bib of her brightly patterned dungarees and shivered. ‘Before Christmas, anyway.’

Gemma frowned. Christmas felt a million miles away. It was February, a steady rain was falling and she was already regretting her decision to accept Willow’s invitation to meet for a chat. Her car had barely made it up their track and she had no clue where she was. In her head, Cornwall was permanently sun-drenched and gorgeous. This place was tatty and covered in mud. ‘So you don’t need anyone then?’

Willow shook her head. ‘No, we do. We definitely do. It’s just…’ She tucked a strand of long golden hair behind her ear. ‘Would you like a biscuit with your tea?’

It was the second time Willow had asked her, placing a tin decorated with robins on the table as she’d done so. Gemma had refused the first time, out of nerves, but as Willow looked at it now, Gemma could see that she wasn’t just offering a biscuit, she was offering the chance to share in something – a story perhaps, or friendship… Either way, Gemma found she couldn’t refuse.

Willow smiled at her nod. ‘They’re Jammie Dodgers,’ she said. ‘Homemade, so I probably shouldn’t call them that, but…’

She held out the tin, somewhat shy now, and Gemma knew without a doubt that she had made them specially. They were also enormous; the very best kind of biscuit.

‘I think we’d pretty much given up on the idea of ever getting anyone,’ said Willow as Gemma took her first bite, closing her eyes as her mouth filled with buttery sweetness. ‘I was quite surprised when you rang.’

‘Oh…?’ Gemma wasn’t sure whether to feel hopeful or not. ‘Does that mean you didn’t find anyone suitable?’

‘We didn’t find anyone at all.’ Willow smiled again. ‘One or two people rang for the details but…’ She winced. ‘No one actually applied. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this but there’s no point in trying to deceive you, is there?’

Gemma raised her eyebrows a tad. ‘You thought you’d just ply me with biscuits instead.’ She smiled. ‘I’m joking. These are amazing, by the way.’

Willow dipped her head at the compliment. Her face was unlined, her expression serene.

‘I suppose they are a bit of a bribe now that you mention it. I love our life here, but it’s not for everyone, and on a day like today, I can see it might not have much to recommend it.’

Gemma shifted in her seat, looking around at the makeshift kitchen. It was ramshackle – she could think of no other word for it. ‘Perhaps… So what would?’

There was silence for a moment while Willow contemplated the mug of tea in front of her. ‘For the right person… an opportunity which might change their life.’ She looked up at Gemma, a gentle smile on her face. ‘I read that in a marketing guide, can you tell? It’s true, though. Moving here has certainly changed my life for the better, but it’s also a lot of hard work, involves a very basic way of living – stress on the basic – and plenty of mud.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘As you’ve probably noticed.’

‘Go on…’

‘So while I admit things don’t look great on the surface, if you can see past all that, I guess it’s about how this place makes you feel and what it gives you. And for me that means freedom and… I find this hard to explain, but have you ever stood somewhere with the wind in your hair and the sun on your bare arms and felt the blood rushing through your veins in a glad-to-be-alive kind of way? That’s how I feel when I’m here.’

Willow held up her hands in a helpless gesture, clearly feeling that what she had said had no real meaning for anyone other than herself. But, drawn by her words, Gemma could only stare at her. She’d felt that way once. She used to feel that way all the time, and she knew exactly what Willow meant. She leaned forward to look out of the window. ‘So what is here?’

‘Our home,’ said Willow simply. ‘Mine and my husband’s. A dream we’ve had for most of our adult lives. And in time, we hope, a farm, smallholding, call it what you like. We’re aiming to be as self-sufficient as possible, although we’ve a way to go before we achieve that. It’s very much a work in progress.’

‘Hence the advert.’

Willow nodded. ‘We need help,’ she said. ‘With all sorts of things. We have plans, obviously, and a vision for how we want to live our lives, but some days it’s hard to know what to do first.’ She gave a warm smile. ‘You’d be very, very welcome.’

Gemma was beginning to feel the pull of Willow’s words and yet… ‘But you don’t know a thing about me. We haven’t even discussed my experience, or any of my skills…’

‘I think it’s more about the person,’ replied Willow. ‘And less about what they’ve done in the past. But you’ve driven two and a half hours to get here… I’m hoping that’s a good place to start from.’

Gemma couldn’t really put a finger on why she’d done that. It didn’t seem logical on the basis of one very brief chat. A chat which really hadn’t told her much more than the advert itself. Willow had sounded lovely on the phone, and now that Gemma had met her, seemed entirely lovely in the flesh, but was that really a reason to drive to the middle of nowhere on what was little more than a whim? She had no job, and come next week, nowhere to live either, but she wasn’t desperate. Not yet, anyway.