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Chapter 1
Holly dug her spade into the soft soil and twisted it. Strands of blonde hair escaped from her cap and fluttered in the spring wind. The afternoon sun poked through a cloud, lighting up the day with a warmth that hinted at summer. She gazed at her land as it gradually descended into the valley. There it met the neighbouring farmland, flanked by the smooth limestone hills of the Mendips which dipped into a v shape where the sun always set. Sighing, Holly remembered running down the gentle slopes as a child, with a homemade kite trailing behind her, then trudging back up for one of her mum’s scones topped with thick jam and a dollop of cream.
The freshness of the day brought a pink hue to her cheeks as she crouched to break up a clump of earth with her gloved hands. She loved the comforting smell of the soil. It reminded her of her father and the planting they’d done together. Straightening up she removed her fleece, tying it around her waist as she surveyed her garden nursery. It was housed in stone buildings and buzzed with customers. Children, fresh out of school, clambered over a play area she had built out of reclaimed wood. Holly loved talking to customers and showing the children plants. But today she was leaving everything to her staff. She wanted to be alone. Reaching for her water bottle she took a long gulp, there was a sickening feeling inside her stomach – the same feeling she had exactly two years ago, when her parents died.
Holly was brought back to the present by a high-pitched bark. She thrust her spade into the ground and leant on it. A cream and tan dog bounced over, circling her legs until they were wrapped in an extendable lead. Holly’s shoulders drooped.No peace for me today then?she thought. She could see the owner, head down, repeatedly clicking a button on the lead’s plastic handle. Straightening up, he shook his head.
As he got closer, she recognised him.Oh no, not Mitchell Booth, she thought. She had not seen him in years – not since they were teenagers – but she would know his ice-blue eyes anywhere. Set against dark hair, they were like none she had ever seen on anyone else. Feeling her cheeks burn, Holly looked down. The dog had settled on her boots, its tongue flapping out the side of its mouth as it panted. As Mitch got closer she pulled the peak of her cap downwards, in an attempt to cover her face. It had been over fifteen years – hopefully he would have forgotten her.
Hunching over, he pointed at the small dog. ‘Stay’.
A bit late for that,Holly thought as the musty aroma of wet dog reached her nose.
‘Sorry about this. I’ll just get her.’
‘Okay,’ Holly sighed.
Mitch bent down and lifted the dog as he moved anti-clockwise around Holly’s legs, unravelling the lead as he went, until he knocked the spade over which fell onto the soft soil with a thud. Holly shut her eyes as he continued circling, mumbling apologies.
She remembered Mitch as the boy who’d appeared annually at the neighbouring farm. The boy she had chatted to over the stone wall when no-one was looking. The boy whose name she had scrawled in her diary and surrounded with hearts.But he’s no boy now,she thought, as he stood before her as a six-foot-something man.A tingling heat rose up her neck.I could do without this,she thought.
Holly raised her voice as the wind whipped up. ‘I’m afraid dogs aren’t permitted on nursery property, due to the petting area.’
Mitch held his dog between both hands. ‘Petting?’ He tipped his head back and peered through mussed-up hair.
Holly flushed. ‘Yes, a small petting zoo. A few rabbits, guinea pigs … a goat.’
Mitch’s eyes crinkled at the edges and a smile spread slowly across his face.
‘So, dogs aren’t allowed here,’ she said tugging the peak of her cap further downwards.
Mitch shook the hair out of his eyes and lost grip of the dog which wriggled to the ground, giving one yap before it jumped up at Holly, leaving brown paw prints on her cargo trousers.
Mitch lunged forward. ‘Trixy, stop.’ He grabbed the dog. ‘She likes you.’
Holly flushed.
‘Sorry.’ Mitch pointed at Holly’s muddy cargos and moved forward.
Holly stepped back, worried he would try to brush her down. ‘It’s fine. They’re nursery issue, no harm done. Dirt comes with this type of work.’
After unclipping the lead from Trixy, Mitch shoved it into his pocket. Straightening up he stuffed the dog under his left arm. ‘I’m Mitch. I’ve taken over Booth Farm from my uncle.’ He nodded towards the neighbouring land. ‘He’s too weak to run it now. Where can I find your boss?’ He turned to face the nursery and smoothed his hair with his free hand. ‘We need to talk about the gate.’
Holly took a deep breath as she removed her work gloves and stuffed them into her back pocket.Better get this over with, she thought.
Mitch lowered his voice and turned to face her. ‘What’s she like now? I heard –’
‘Holly Loveland,’ she said thrusting out her right hand, looking him straight in the eye. A gust of wind caught the peak of her cap, it flew off and her long hair blew behind her. As Mitch took her hand, she felt his rough skin against hers and a tingle raced up her arm.
He nodded slowly.
Holly forced a smile.
Mitch laughed. ‘I thought you seemed too young to be Holly. I’m useless at first impressions. Although we’ve met before, of course. I used to visit Sid every summer. Remember?’
Holly pulled her hand away. ‘No. No I don’t,’ she lied as she shook her head, searching her mind for a change of subject. Leaning forward she ruffled the soft hair on Trixy’s head. ‘An interesting breed for a farmer, don’t you think?’
Mitch rubbed his throat. ‘My wife, she – she chose the dog.’
