Lazy Days At The Farm On Muddypuddle Lane (The Farm on Muddypuddle Lane #7)

CHAPTER TWO

It was surprising the amount of wildlife which could be found in urban areas, Ashton thought, as he left the house. To be fair though, Thornbury wasn’t as urban as some towns he could mention, as it was surrounded by rolling hills and farmland, pretty villages and tiny hamlets.

It also benefitted from having a canal running through it, and that was where he was headed now, his camera around his neck. It was a substantial piece of kit, and he often attracted odd looks from strangers as they wondered why he was carrying such a large camera and what on earth he could be photographing.

This morning, he was hoping to spot a heron. They regularly fished in the canal on the outskirts of the town, especially in the early morning when it was quiet. Only the most resolute of joggers and the occasional dog walker were out and about at this time of day.

Sidling through a swing gate, he stepped onto the towpath and walked along it for a short distance until he found a suitable place to stop. The towpath was well-maintained, but the edges had been allowed to grow wild, and large trees and bushes lined the gravelled path. Wildflowers grew freely, and the hum of busy insects added to the birdsong and the quacking of squabbling ducks.

Slipping his rucksack off, Ashton carefully wriggled between two substantial bushes and took out a small folding stool, making sure it was steady on the uneven ground. He had also brought sandwiches and a flask of tea, but he didn’t take those out just yet. He wanted to give the resident wildlife time to forget he was there first. Photographing wildlife took patience, and that was something Ashton had in spades. He could spend hours sitting on a riverbank, in a field, or on the side of a mountain without being bored.

Lacey hadn’t understood. With the benefit of hindsight, he finally realised that she hadn’t wanted to.

With peace settling around him as he blended into the undergrowth, Ashton’s mind began to wander. He’d found himself doing that a lot over the past few weeks, which wasn’t surprising considering his humiliation in the restaurant.

When Lacey had refused his offer of marriage, she’d said she wanted to talk about it later, but little discussion had been involved after he’d taken her home. She had clearly been embarrassed, and the surprise he had planned had come out of left field. As far as she was concerned, marriage had been the last thing on her mind. In fact, she was contemplating ending their relationship, and this made up her mind. Lacey may have been the love of Ashton’s life, but he clearly wasn’t the love of hers. And, he had discovered, she wanted more excitement than a mere postman could give her. Apparently, he wasn’t ambitious enough, either.

Ashton hadn’t been able to argue with that. He wasn’t ambitious. He had no urge to climb the corporate ladder and no burning desire for greater responsibility because, along with the increase in salary, there would be an increase in stress. He liked his work-life balance just the way it was. Besides, he enjoyed what he did. He was out in the fresh air for a big part of his shift and getting plenty of exercise at the same time. He didn’t want to be stuck behind a desk all day. He earned enough to pay his bills, with a bit left over for his hobby plus a meal out now and again and a couple of drinks down the pub.

Thinking of meals out made him cringe as he recalled the events of that night, and he vowed never to set foot in the place again. The staff had been lovely, but he had felt the weight of their pity as he’d paid the bill and left sharpish. And if it wasn’t for the fact that Picklewick was on his round, he probably wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the village again, either.

A flash of orange and turquoise caught his eye, and Ashton sucked in a breath. It was a kingfisher!

The bird plunged into the water, then flew onto an overhanging branch to eat its catch.

Ashton’s camera whirred silently as it captured image after image. He zoomed in, the telephoto lens displaying the bird’s gloriously iridescent plumage as it manoeuvred the fish into the right position to swallow it whole. Breakfast finished, it darted off peep-peep-peeping as it disappeared from sight.

Ashton let out a soft, delighted breath. What a treat! He couldn’t wait to show Lacey the photos—

Reality threw a bucket of cold water over him as he remembered that he and Lacey were no longer together. And even if they were, she would have shown scant interest in his photography. The only photos she was interested in were those with her in them.

Crossly, he told himself to stop thinking about her. It didn’t change anything and only served to make him feel even more sad.

These past few weeks had been awful, filled with misery and hurt, and today was no exception. He didn’t think he could face going home just yet. He would stay here a while longer, because although they had spent more time at her place than at his, the house felt far too empty. He could cope with the silence, but the loneliness in his heart was a different matter.

Dulcie was waiting by the door when Carla arrived at the farm, and as she held out her arms, Carla stepped into her embrace. ‘Aw, you poor thing,’ her friend said, hugging her tight, then called to her partner over her shoulder, ‘Thanks for picking her up, Otto.’

‘No probs. See you later,’ Otto said, getting back in his car and driving out of the yard.

Carla hugged her back fiercely. ‘I could have got the bus,’ she protested. She had considered using her mum’s car, but as she didn’t drive often, she didn’t feel up to a long journey on unfamiliar rural roads, especially when her head was ‘in the shed’ as her nan used to say.

‘Nonsense! Otto had to go into Thornbury anyway, so it was no bother.’

‘Are you sure you don’t mind me staying with you for a while?’

‘Of course not! You should have come sooner. I did ask you to.’ Dulcie released her and slipped an arm through hers, leading her across the cobbled farmyard to the house.

A black cat ran up to them, almost tripping Carla as it wound around her legs.

‘That’s Magic,’ Dulcie said. ‘She seems to have adopted us. I think she’s a stray.’ She bumped the door open with her hip. ‘Coffee? Or wine?’

Carla wasn’t in the mood for alcohol. ‘Coffee, please.’ She plonked herself down on a kitchen chair. ‘Thank you for having me. I don’t think I could have faced another day on my own in that house.’

Dulcie gave her a stern look. ‘I’m going to set a few ground rules, and the first one is that you have to stop thanking me. I’m your friend – that’s what friends are for.’

Carla smiled sadly at her. ‘Everyone descends on you when they’ve got a problem, don’t they? Nikki, Maisie, your mum, and now me.’ She barked out a laugh. ‘At this rate there won’t be anyone left in Birmingham. They’ll all be here!’

‘Do you blame them?’ Dulcie pointed at the view through the window. ‘Look at it! This place is gorgeous.’

‘It is,’ Carla agreed, accepting a mug of fragrant coffee. She had been travelling for ages, and this was very welcome.

Dulcie joined her at the table, cradling her own mug. ‘I can’t believe the investigation is dragging on for so long, even if that ratbag is out of the country. Surely they can carry on without him?’

‘Apparently, he didn’t give a statement, or whatever it was that HR wanted him to do before he went on annual leave. He’s in Mexico currently.’

Dulcie gave her a shrewd look. ‘Was this holiday already planned, or did he decide to flee the country because he didn’t want to face the flak at work?’

‘I’m not sure he had any flak to face,’ Carla replied miserably. ‘I’m the bad guy, remember? I’m the one who ‘ threw herself’ at him.’ She did air quotes with her fingers. ‘Vicky says everyone knows, despite it supposedly being confidential.’

‘He’s leaking it,’ Dulcie said. ‘He’s going on the offensive and getting his version in first, so no one believes yours even though it’s the truth.’

‘I can’t go back there. The thought of walking into the office makes me feel sick. Thank goodness HR agreed I could take leave until it’s sorted out. Without pay, of course. But I don’t care. I would happily live on fresh air if it meant I didn’t have to go back there.’

‘What will you do? Resign?’

Carla shook her head. ‘I want to, but it’ll make me look guilty.’

‘Can they sack you?’

‘Probably. Definitely, if they believe Yale. Which they will.’

Dulcie reached across the table and clasped her hand, saying gently, ‘Don’t you think it’s better to resign, instead of being sacked? Especially if you’ve no intention of ever going back.’

Carla lowered her head. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she replied, her voice breaking.

‘Whatever you decide, you can stay here for as long as you need.’

‘You might regret saying that.’ Carla’s chin wobbled.

‘Nah, the bright lights of Birmingham will lure you back eventually. How many times have you told me that Picklewick is a lovely place to visit, but you wouldn’t want to live here?’ She finished her coffee. ‘Drink up and unpack your case, then I’ll introduce you to the goats and show you how you can earn your keep.’

‘Please don’t tell me you want me to milk them,’ Carla begged.

‘Better! I’m going to do goat walks.’

‘You’re joking, right?’

‘Not at all. You’ve heard of llama walks? Well, I’m going to be offering goat walks. Goats are nicer than llamas because they don’t spit.’

‘You want me to walk a goat ?’

‘Why not? They’ve got to start their lead training, and getting out in nature will do you good. You’ll be the farm’s official goat walker from now on.’

Carla almost wished she was back in Birmingham. Almost, but not quite.

Carla had seen goats before. The last time she’d visited the farm, Dulcie had been looking after the two goats belonging to the stables. Now though, Dulcie had eighteen goats of her own. Eighteen! She also had a flock of chickens, several cute bunnies, and a cat. How did she cope with all those animals, especially the goats?

Carla found out the following morning after Dulcie had shown her the changes she’d made since her last visit.

‘I milk the adults every morning,’ Dulcie said, rattling a bucket filled with something she called sheep nuts. It was ridiculously early, but Carla had been awake and heard Dulcie pottering around downstairs, so she’d got up. She was beginning to think she should have stayed in bed.

They were standing next to a gate leading to what Carla could only describe as a kids’ play area – but for goats. As she watched the young goatlings jump and prance as they followed their mums, she wished she had half their energy. She felt like she had been steamrollered, picked up, then steamrollered for a second time.

Dulcie rattled the bucket again and opened the gate, careful to keep the treats out of the animals’ reach. Tutting, she said, ‘You know the rules, girls; you have to wait until you’re in the milking parlour.’

Bemused, Carla watched as Dulcie shepherded the goats inside, before attaching the milking equipment to their udders. The goatlings didn’t seem at all bothered as they trotted off to the barn for their own breakfast of fresh hay, bleating loudly with excitement.

Organised chaos was the best way to describe it, Carla thought. Dulcie was in her element, and Carla marvelled at how much her friend had changed since she’d won the farm. Once upon a time, Dulcie would have run away screaming if a goat so much as looked at her (in fact, Carla recalled Dulcie doing just that when a hand-reared sheep had demanded to be petted) yet look at her now. She was every inch a farmer.

She was so happy and so in love with what she was doing, that Carla felt a pang of envy. Dulcie was also madly in love with Otto, which gave Carla another pang. Once upon a time, she’d hoped that her relationship with Yale would lead to the kind of happiness Dulcie enjoyed.

Groaning inwardly, she told herself to stop thinking about him, but it was hard not to. If the investigation hadn’t been hanging over her, she might have been able to put him out of her mind completely after the way he’d treated her She had initially thought she was heartbroken, but as the days had dragged into a week, and then a second, she’d realised that what she’d felt was infatuation, not love. As someone who dated a lot but rarely allowed a man to touch her heart, it had been a shock to discover how smitten she’d been. But she’d mistaken attraction, lust and the excitement of keeping their relationship quiet, for love.

Carla would never make the same mistake again.

Milking done, the two friends went indoors for a breakfast of scrambled eggs on toast, as the farm had an abundance of free-range eggs, courtesy of a small army of chickens. There was also a glut of juicy, ripe pears from the trees in the orchard, as well as punnets of glossy blackberries in the large fridge where the milk bottling took place. Dulcie had told her some of Otto’s dishes in his restaurant featured the fruit. She explained that he obtained much of the produce he used in The Wild Side from the farm and its surroundings, including the spinach and other salad leaves growing in the veggie plot. As Dulcie had shown her around, Carla admired the couple’s resourcefulness and ingenuity.

‘How do you like the goats?’ Dulcie asked, sprinkling salt on her eggs.

Carla swallowed a mouthful before she spoke. ‘The little ones are cute.’

‘It’s their mums who will be walked.’

‘Can’t I walk the babies instead?’

‘They’ll play up if they’re separated from their mothers. The adults are used to having halters on, so hopefully they shouldn’t find going for a walk too stressful.’

‘Couldn’t you have had dogs instead? They like being walked.’

‘I’m leaving the dogs to Maisie. Did I tell you she’s opening a boarding kennel? Anyway, owning goats was your suggestion, remember?’

‘I didn’t think you’d do it. I was simply throwing ideas out there.’

‘And that one stuck.’ Dulcie grinned. ‘Go on, why don’t you take Cloud for a walk after breakfast? The fresh air will do you good.’

‘With the whiff of goat in my nostrils? Hmph!’

‘The view from the top is gorgeous.’

‘You want me to walk all the way up the mountain?’ Carla was incredulous.

‘It’s hardly a mountain. More like a hill.’

‘I thought I was here for some rest and relaxation?’

Dulcie scoffed, ‘The only time you relax is when you’re sprawled on a sun lounger on a Mediterranean beach with a cocktail in your hand, and even then you’re on high alert in case a fit guy walks past.’

Carla pressed her lips together. The thought of ogling any man right now turned her stomach. Sprawling on a sun lounger sounded good, though. Suddenly, she realised how utterly weary she was and how much the last couple of weeks had taken out of her.

She also realised she had come to the farm for a complete change of scenery, and hiking up the mountain while towing a goat was as complete a change as she could possibly get.

‘Okay,’ she agreed with a sigh. ‘Saddle her up.’

‘You can’t ride her,’ Dulcie warned, looking alarmed.

‘I wasn’t going to. It was just an expression.’

‘I wouldn’t put anything past you. You’re always up for a laugh. My mum used to call you the wild one. I was the sensible one. Talking about being wild, how about we go out for dinner this evening? Otto suggested we go to the restaurant so he can cook you some proper food. He didn’t think much of me shoving a supermarket pizza in the oven last night, although I thought it was a perfectly acceptable meal. We can come back here afterwards and crack open a bottle of wine. What do you say? I know it’s not the party lifestyle you’re used to, but it’s the best I can do – unless you fancy a drink in The Black Horse. I’ve got to warn you though, it’s bingo night.’

Carla wrinkled her nose.

‘I didn’t think bingo would float your boat,’ Dulcie laughed. ‘Wine and a natter back at the house, then.’

However, it wasn’t the thought of bingo that Carla disliked. It was the thought of going out. She hadn’t been out – as in a bar or a pub – since that night. Not only had Yale’s deceit given her heart a knock, but her confidence had also taken a battering.

It didn’t help that she’d had too much time to dwell on what she was doing with her life, and how it had gone so horribly wrong. One minute she had been having fun, enjoying her job, loving her social life, and with the prospect of being in a relationship with someone she really liked, and the next minute, everything had come crashing down around her.

The subsequent thinking and dwelling over the past two weeks had led to the realisation that all her friends were moving on with their lives, whereas hers hadn’t changed in almost a decade. She was thirty and what did she have to show for it? She mightn’t have a job soon, she didn’t have a place of her own, and she didn’t have anyone special in her life. Even Maisie, Dulcie’s flighty younger sister, had settled down and was making a go of things.

Fed up with herself, Carla followed Dulcie as she went to fetch the goat. She’d read that llama walks were meant to lift the spirits and relieve stress and anxiety, so maybe walking a goat would be just as relaxing.

Somehow she doubted it.

I wonder whether goats are able to find their own way home , Carla mused as she gazed at the heather and bracken-covered hillside. The farm was down there somewhere, but she couldn’t see it from here and she prayed she wasn’t lost. Hence the hope that goats had similar homing instincts to pigeons.

She had stopped for a breather, one of many because this hill was steep, but Cloud didn’t seem bothered that her nice comfy barn was out of sight. The animal was busy gorging itself on the surrounding foliage, as were her babies.

For the first ten minutes, Carla had been concerned that the goatlings would wander off (she really didn’t fancy having to explain to Dulcie that she’d lost two of her precious goats), but she needn’t have worried as they didn’t stray too far from their mum. And while Cloud had tip-tapped obediently behind Carla as she had led her along the narrow dirt path, the babies gambled and scampered amongst the heather.

They were incredibly cute and funny to watch. However, they soon realised from their mother’s contented chewing that there was a smorgasbord of munchable leaves all around, and they quickly settled down to nibble at them.

As she watched them eat, she wondered how much further she needed to go. Would this do as Cloud’s first proper walk? The goat had behaved herself, so did she need any more training?

Aside from the contented chewing noises, it was rather peaceful up here with just the wind and a bird call or two. The sun was warm and the springy heather looked quite inviting, so Carla decided to extend her breather into a proper rest and enjoy the solitude and the view.

It was a far cry from the noise of the open-plan office where she should have been this morning. The scenery was better, too.

Keeping a firm hold on the lead rope in case Cloud decided to make a break for it, Carla sank into the heather as her thoughts lingered on work, and she wondered what they were saying about her. She really should give Vicky a call to see how bad the gossip was and to reassure her friend that she was okay. She also wanted to find out whether Yale was back from leave yet.

Carla could feel her anger growing at the thought of that man going about his normal day while she was effectively in exile.

Did she miss work? Did she heck! Given a choice, she would rather be sitting on the side of a hill in the sun and watching goats eat grass, than be at work, but it was the principle of the thing. And also, the small problem of losing her job would mean no income.

Reflexively, she eased her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and checked to see whether there was anything from HR. There wasn’t, and she didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved. She desperately wanted to get this over with, but feared what would happen when it was.

Movement caught her eye and she stiffened. Was that a rabbit? Carla held her breath, keeping as still as possible. No, it wasn’t a rabbit. It didn’t have the ears for it. It looked like a cat, and was bounding and bouncing over the grassy tumps. Unusual markings, she thought, as it came closer – a brown back and white chest. Then suddenly it was gone.

She exhaled slowly.

Having lingered enough, she got to her feet. It was time to go back. She reckoned she’d been out here long enough.

Realising he was whistling, Ashton pressed his lips together to trap in the sound. Lacey had hated whistling. She used to say it ‘did her head in,’ and that it was tuneless, which he vehemently denied. He didn’t for one minute believe his whistling was tuneless. In fact, as he was shoving letters and leaflets through the letterboxes on Hazel Road, he thought he had been giving a fairly decent rendition of Sittin on the Dock of the Bay .

Knocking on the door of number twelve and handing the young woman her parcel, it occurred to him that he no longer had any reason to suppress his whistling tendencies. He could whistle to his heart’s content, and no one would stop him.

Pursing his lips, he gave an experimental toot.

‘Someone’s lively this morning,’ the woman said.

She looked familiar, but so did most of Picklewick. Then it occurred to him where he’d seen her before. ‘You’re usually at the farm on Muddypuddle Lane, aren’t you?’

‘That’s right. It belongs to my sister, Dulcie.’

Ashton slapped a palm to his forehead. ‘Of course! Maisie, isn’t it? I thought I knew you from somewhere. You look like her, too.’

‘All us Fairfax kids look the same. Even my brother Jay, although he’s more masculine.’

‘I’m off up there in a bit,’ he said, patting the Royal Mail bag which was slung across his body. Not that he had anything for Muddypuddle Lane in there, as those letters were currently in the back of his van.

‘Do you want me to take them for you?’ Maisie asked.

‘Thanks for the offer, but I’d better not. It’s against the rules.’ He smiled. ‘You could be anyone, and I’ve also got post for the stables and the cottage. Besides, I quite like driving up there – great views and I sometimes get to see some wildlife.’

‘Yeah – Dulcie!’ Maisie giggled. ‘Don’t tell her I said that.’

‘I won’t.’ Ashton gave her a wave as he walked off.

It didn’t take him long to finish his route in the village, and then it was time to hop back in the van and head off to Muddypuddle Lane. He had a couple of farms, isolated houses and businesses after that, before moving on to a small hamlet about two miles away. He didn’t mind the deliveries being so far apart because he enjoyed the drive through the countryside, especially in the summer. Everything was bursting with life and was so lush and green. The sun was a welcome sight, and he wound down his window to let the breeze play over his face.

Slowing to turn into Muddypuddle Lane, he smiled as he saw the horses in the field. They were galloping, their necks arched and tails held high, and seeing them made his spirits soar. There was nothing quite as beautiful as a horse running free.

As he got out of his van at the stables, he breathed in the scent of horse. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, and when he saw an equine head poking over the top of a stable door, he paused for a moment to give its nose a stroke.

Letters delivered, it was the turn of the farm at the top of the lane next.

After handing Dulcie her post, Ashton was about to get back in his van when he saw a woman walk into the farmyard. She had a goat on a lead, closely followed by a pair of gambolling youngsters.

It wasn’t the goats that gave him pause though, it was the woman. She was gorgeous – spikey dark hair, high cheekbones, big hazel eyes and a figure a man could lose himself in for days. Not only that, but he was certain he had seen her before.

‘Made it back safe, I see,’ Dulcie called to her. She turned to Ashton. ‘This is my friend Carla. She’s staying with me for a while.’

He took a second to find his voice. ‘Hi.’

Carla smiled, instead of replying. It didn’t quite reach her eyes.

‘This is Ashton, my postie,’ Dulcie said to Carla. ‘You met him last time you were here, remember?’

Ah, that explained it. It was over a year ago, but he had a good memory for faces.

Carla looked at him, but there wasn’t any recognition in her eyes. And why would there be? As Ashton recalled, the meeting had been a very brief one indeed.

He gave her a nod, and as he opened the van door he heard her say, ‘I think I saw a stray cat. It definitely wasn’t Magic.’ She pointed up the hill. ‘It was up there.’

Dulcie said, ‘It’s probably Walter’s ginger tomcat. That creature is feral.’

Ashton got into the driver’s seat and clipped in his seatbelt.

‘It wasn’t ginger,’ Carla was saying. ‘It was chocolate-coloured with white all down its front. It looked like it had lain in a pot of paint. It was really small though, but very bouncy.’

Ashton paused. It didn’t sound like a cat. From Carla’s description, it sounded remarkably like a stoat or a weasel. He’d only ever caught glimpses of a weasel, and he had never seen a stoat.

Vowing to return after his shift, he drove off down the lane. However, it wasn’t the possibility of photographing one of the elusive creatures that caused the buzz of excitement in his chest – it was the possibility of seeing the woman with the troubled eyes.