Page 113 of Not Just for Christmas

Chapter 49

It was almost lunchtime by the time we turned into the lane leading to the farmhouse and we were all starving, including Heather, who we’d collected en route.

She was sitting in the back, beside Sam, clutching a bag which clinked every time we went over a bump. It was the secret ingredient for the Christmas punch she’d been making since time immemorial. We all knew it was cherry brandy, but she didn’t know we knew and so the charade continued year after year in a tradition that I never wanted to end.

‘Honestly,’ she huffed as we rattled over another pothole, ‘I don’t remember this lane being this bad.’

‘No,’ said Sam matter-of-factly, ‘it’s always this bad. Perhaps old bottoms feel the bumps more.’

‘Cheeky,’ she harrumphed as Dylan and I smothered a laugh in the front.

My heart lifted as we pulled up in front of the farmhouse. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, and the windows glowed with a soft welcoming light.

Home.

As time had gone on, Merrydown had felt less like the idyllic place it had once been for Jack, Sam and me, and more like a burden, a reminder of everything I’d lost, everything I couldn’t escape. But today, as I looked at the familiar stone walls and the fields stretching out into the distant hills, I realised something had changed. The farm didn’t feel heavy anymore. It felt alive again – full of potential, like a story waiting for its next chapter.

I could already picture it: Dylan’s music combined with my ideas for boutique rural holidays; together we would bring new life to Merrydown. It wasn’t about holding on to the past anymore, it was about building something that honoured it.

Heather and Sam opened their doors and climbed out, but Dylan and I hung back.

‘Looks good, doesn’t it?’ Dylan said, softly, reading my thoughts.

‘Absolutely beautiful,’ I murmured.

‘As do you,’ he touched my cheek. ‘You’ve got your sparkle back.’

Heather poked her head back into the car. ‘Sparkle’s all well and good,’ she tutted. ‘But I’ve lost all feeling in my toes. Let’s go in, shall we? This Christmas punch won’t make itself.’

‘I’m sure she still hates me,’ Dylan shook his head, amused.

I squeezed his hand. ‘Luckily you like a challenge.’

‘Luckily I do.’ He cupped my face, pressing his lips to mine, and I felt a flicker of heat race through me.

The kitchen met us with a whoosh of heat, the scent of roasting sage and clementines and an exuberant welcome courtesy of Gus. The turkey was perfectly crisp and golden, and I sent up a silent prayer for getting the timings right for once. While Dylan hung up wet towels to dry, I arranged potatoes in the pan for roasting, tipped pigs in blankets onto a tray, and piled Heather’s beloved Brussels sprouts into a saucepan.

‘Right, on with the punch,’ said Heather, helping herself to an apron.

‘What can I do?’ Dylan asked, sorting out another of his Christmas playlists for us to cook to.

‘Come in the hot tub with me,’ Sam pleaded, tugging his hand.

‘Again?’ I laughed. ‘You’ve been in once, and just come back from the beach.’

Heather grabbed her grandson’s cheeks and gave him a smacker of a kiss. ‘He’s a water baby, just like his daddy.’

‘He is,’ I said softly, patting my mother-in-law’s arm.

‘I’ll have webbed feet by the end of the holidays at this rate.’ Dylan held up his hands in mock surrender. ‘Come on then, dude.’

And while the boys headed back outside, taking Gus with them, Heather and I worked together amiably, mother-in-law, daughter-in-law in the kitchen that had been home for both of us for so long, and with a tremor in my voice, I told her about the plans for Merrydown and the changes I wanted to make to the farm. Selling the herd after Pete retired, the new business enterprise, and how important it was that Merrydown stayed in the family, for Sam, as long as he wanted it.

Heather listened quietly, stirring and tasting her punch, adding cinnamon and honey, and when she thought I wasn’t watching, a generous slug of cherry brandy.

‘Oh love, thank God!’ She pulled a tissue out of her apron pocket and pressed it to her eyes.

‘Really?’ I gasped with relief.