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“We need to talk about Dad,” Harriet said heavily. “About going forward.”
“Yes.” Rachel steeled herself. She knew there was no point protesting that he didn’t have a diagnosis yet; the last few days had shown her absolutely that her dad needed help. That something had to change.
“We’ll have to cover the milking, for a start,” Harriet said, and Rachel jolted a bit in surprise.
“I didn’t even think about that,” she admitted. “Who did the milking this morning?”
“I did, with Ben’s help. But I can’t do it every day. It takes a couple of hours, and then again in the afternoon, plus arranging with Ray, who does the deliveries.”
“Ben told me that Dad was going to sell off the rest of the herd to pay the mortgage,” Rachel said quietly. “Did you know that?”
Harriet shook her head. “But I’m not really surprised. Neither of us have ever wanted to take on the farm in that way. He knew that. But until he does sell it, or we do, the cows need to be milked.”
“I can help with that,” Rachel stated, and then bristled just a little when Harriet arched an eyebrow in obvious scepticism.
“Can you?”
“I have milked a cow before, Harriet.” They’d had to learn, as children, and Rachel actually hadn’t minded it, because it had been one time when her father had been interested and invested in being with her…except it seemed he had been all along, at least more than he’d been with Harriet. How had she not seen that? Felt it? Maybe she had, but she’d let herself forget. It was easy, she was beginning to realise, to forget things when you felt hurt. In any case, there was time to reflect on that later. Right now, they needed to think about practicalities.
“It’s a little different now, you know,” Harriet told her. “With the new milking machines. It means it’s quicker, but you have to know how to put the suction cups on—”
“I’m sure I can figure it out, or you or Ben can show me,” Rachel replied. “I can’t ask you to do all the milking, and I’m willing to do it.”
“Okay.” Harriet nodded in acceptance, and Rachel let out a breath. They might have had a Big Conversation, but it seemed there were still some fairly tricky moments to navigate. At least it seemed to be getting easier.
“Is there anything else that needs doing?” she asked.
“Well, just the obvious,” Harriet replied. “Feed the cows, clean their stalls, clean the milk bottles…”
It sounded like a lot of work, and Rachel still had a full-time job, even if it felt like the last thing she was thinking about just now. “For how long?” she wondered aloud. “Till Dad is back at it, do you think?”
“I have no idea.” Harriet was silent for a moment. “I mean, depending on his diagnosis, he might not be back at it, Rachel. That’s something we have to consider. And arranging to sell the herd will take weeks, at a minimum.”
Rachel massaged her forehead as she felt a headache throb at her temples. Managing a dairy farm was not something she had the time or even the inclination to do, and yet she wasn’t about to back down now. “Okay,” she said, even though she had no idea how she was going to go about this. “Maybe I could ask my boss if I could take some time off work.”
“I can scale back my commitments too,” Harriet offered, and Rachel nodded, knowing Harriet had just as much of a right to a life of her own as Rachel did, if not more so.
Harriet’s been holding the bag for a long time.
“Don’t scale back too much,” she told her sister. “It sounds like this baking gig of yours is just getting going.”
Harriet looked surprised, and Rachel knew that was not something she would have said, ever, in the past. “Well, sort of,” she admitted almost shyly. “The tea room in Pickering was a nice one to pick up. They might become a regular thing.”
“That’s great, Harriet.” Rachel smiled at her, feeling genuinely pleased. She was glad her sister had something she seemed passionate about, something she could build into a career. “I’ll email Danielle right now,” she said firmly as she rose from the table. “Then we can make a proper plan.”
*
After she’d sentthe email to Danielle, Rachel decided she needed to clear her head. As much as she wanted a bath, the water was now barely tepid and her head felt too full of thoughts to have a soak; she felt the need to move.
She changed into a fresh set of jeans and a fleece and called for Fred as she put on her boots. “I’m just going to the top of the hill,” she called to Harriet, who was still in the kitchen. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
Outside the day was still warm, the air like a balmy caress, the sunlight a benediction as Rachel headed behind the house towards the hill, Fred trotting faithfully beside her. She walked with purpose, like she had a destination to reach, a place to go, and maybe she did.
She felt as if she had to reframe her whole life, her wholeself, in light of all she’d learned, and the most surprising thing of all was that didn’t feel like a bad thing.
She took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill her lungs. She strode quickly up the hill, arms swinging at her sides, huffing and puffing and feeling her heart beat hard and fast and strong. Fred trotted behind her, huffing and puffing a bit too, and when she reached the top, she wondered why she had been walking so quickly to get there, and yet somehow, she was glad she had.
Rachel turned around to face the view—the farmhouse below, smoke curling from its chimney, nestled in the dip of the valley, the barns behinds it, the pastureland rolling out in a carpet of green to the lane. From here she could see the slate roof of the Mackeys’ house and the back of their barn, but not much else. A tractor cut through a distant field beyond, and she wondered if Ben was riding it, going about his work, day after day in this place.
