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

CHAPTER THREE

‘How was the goat walk?’ Dulcie asked after the postie had driven off.

‘It was good, actually.’

She smiled. ‘I knew you’d like it. Can you do me a favour and take them to the field? I’ve got to get back to work.’

Carla felt awful. She’d descended on Dulcie without warning, so of course Dulcie had to work. As well as the farm, her friend had a ‘day job’ working for a large energy supplier, dealing with customer complaints, but there was an upside in that Dulcie was able to work from home. Carla didn’t know how she managed to do both.

‘What else can I do to help?’ Carla asked.

‘Aw, that’s sweet of you, but Maisie will be here in a minute.’ Dulcie shot her a meaningful look as she said, ‘You won’t believe how much she does around the farm. She finally seems to have found something she enjoys. I’m going to miss her when the kennels are up and running.’

‘When will that be?’

‘Early next year, Adam estimates. Bless him, he’s doing most of the work himself, as well as running his business. It’s a good thing he’s so brilliant at stuff like that. He can turn his hand to anything.’

‘What does Maisie do on the farm?’ Carla was still wondering how she could help.

‘Milking, bottling, soap making, egg collecting, rabbit feeding – anything and everything.’

‘Surely there’s something I can help with? I can’t just sit around doing nothing.’

Dulcie reached out to stroke her arm. ‘You don’t have to, honestly. You’ve had a tough time of it lately. Just relax and put your feet up.’

As Carla watched her walk back to the house, tears pricked her eyes. Dulcie was the best friend ever, and Carla wished she still lived in Birmingham. It wasn’t the same without her. When Dulcie won the farm, Carla had been convinced Dulcie would soon realise life in the sticks wasn’t for her. But to her surprise, Dulcie had taken to it like a duck to water (after an initial blip or two) and was now incredibly happy. She was also madly in love, and Carla couldn’t help wishing that she could find a love like that. She had begun to think she might have found it with Yale, but look what a rat he had turned out to be.

Carla returned Cloud and her babies to the field to join the other goats, and watched them for a while, enjoying their antics as the little ones played together. Then she dawdled back to the house.

When she got there, she discovered Maisie had arrived and was about to start making soap.

Maisie greeted her with a hug. ‘Long time, no see,’ she said.

‘It’s been a while,’ Carla agreed. ‘I hear you’ll be running a kennel soon.’

‘Yeah, who’d have thought it!’

‘Not me.’ Carla grinned at her. ‘Look at you, adulting at last.’

Abruptly, she sobered as she realised that Maisie’s lifestyle was now far more adult than her own. Maisie was the one with a house, a business plan, and a partner. Whereas Carla was still living with her mum, her boyfriend had turned out not to be hers at all, and she wasn’t sure whether she still had a job.

Maisie gave her a sympathetic look. ‘Dulcie told me about your stinker of a boyfriend.’

‘But he wasn’t my boyfriend, was he? He was someone’s fiancée .’

‘Stop beating yourself up. You weren’t to know.’

‘Is that what I’m doing?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘But he could cost me my job.’

‘So? Get another.’

‘That’s easy for you to say,’ Carla retorted.

‘Because I’ve had loads of them?’ she laughed. ‘Doesn’t that prove my point?’

‘But I like my job.’

Maisie shrugged. ‘In that case, you’ll have to fight for it.’

Easier said than done, Carla thought. How could she fight when she didn’t have a leg to stand on? Yale had made sure of that.

‘Why the goggles?’ Carla eyed the pair in her hand with mistrust. They weren’t exactly fetching.

‘Lye is basically sodium hydroxide,’ Maisie explained. ‘It’s horrid stuff. You don’t want to get it on your skin, and definitely not in your eyes.’ She gave her a pair of black, heavy-duty rubber gloves. ‘You’ll need to put those on as well.’

‘Why use it at all, if it’s so horrid?’

‘When it’s mixed with fats and oils the chemical reaction leaves no residue, so it’s perfectly safe. In fact, you can’t make soap without it. Well, you can , but it’s not classed as natural soap.’

Carla frowned. ‘Do you mean that the soap I washed my face with this morning contains lye?’

‘It does. Plus goat’s milk, coconut oil, olive oil and fragrance.’

‘You know an awful lot about it.’

‘I’ve been making soap for a couple of months now, but there’s still a lot to learn.’

Carla examined the equipment and ingredients laid out on the workbench. She and Maisie were in one of the sheds next to the milking parlour. After being informed that it used to house sheep, Carla was convinced there was still a whiff of the woolly animals in the air. Her eyes roved around the room, noting the fridge and freezer, the racks of shelves with colourful bars of soap on them, and the table with an old bookcase behind which held the finished products, packaged and neatly labelled.

‘Where do you sell it?’ Carla asked.

‘Online, although we do have the occasional customer who buys it direct from us when they pop up to the farm for their milk and cheese.’

‘You and Dulcie have a proper production line going on.’ Carla was filled with awe.

‘We have. In fact, Dulcie’s hoping that by the autumn, she’ll be able to give up the day job and concentrate on this. She’s just started making candles too, as another string to her bow.’

Maisie was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle pulling into the yard, and she went to take a look. When she returned ten minutes later, she said, ‘That’s another satisfied customer. Dulcie gets people popping in all the time to buy milk and cheese, and when I mentioned we had a glut of pears, she bought a bag of those as well. There’s a lot of surplus produce, so it’s good she can make few pounds from it.’

‘I don’t know how she manages to fit it all in. How does she cope with people just turning up out of the blue if she’s working?’

‘Luckily, she’s got me most of the time, but when the kennel is up and running I won’t be around much, so I’ve no idea how she’ll manage.’ Maisie put her goggles on and slipped her hands into the rubber gloves, indicating that Carla should do the same. ‘You won’t believe how inconsiderate some people are, though. Last week, she had someone knocking on the door at eleven o’clock at night, wanting to buy milk for their bedtime cocoa.’

‘Why doesn’t she have a proper shop?’

‘Not enough hours in the day, can’t afford the rent – to name two reasons. Anyway, when she does give up her job, she’ll want to be on the farm, not in the village, and renting a shop would eat into her profits.’

Carla waited a moment before she donned her goggles. ‘I wasn’t thinking about a shop in the village. I was thinking about her having a shop here . I noticed she keeps the milk and cheese in the bottling shed, the soaps in here, and the fruit in the barn. If she had everything in one place, with a proper counter, display units, and set opening times, it would be much easier for her. If customers are already dropping in ad hock, it makes sense to have them arrive when it’s convenient for Dulcie, and there’s also the likelihood of add-on sales if all the items are together.’

Maisie was staring at her, her eyes huge beneath the goggles. She shook her head slowly. ‘Carla Mason, you’re a genius! Why didn’t we think of that?’

When they eventually began making soap, Carla was smiling. She mightn’t be able to sort out her own pathetic life, but at least she could be useful to someone else.

Ashton drove into the yard and tucked his car to one side, out of the way of any farm vehicles which might be trundling back and forth. Then he got out, slung his camera around his neck, feeling the familiar weight of it, and patted his pockets to make sure he had the lenses he might need. He’d attached the telephoto lens before he’d left the house, but he mightn’t keep it on the whole time he was out. It depended on what caught his eye and how he was going to photograph it.

Locking his car out of habit, he headed across to the house to speak to Dulcie. But it wasn’t Dulcie who answered his rat-a-tat knock, it was her friend, Carla.

On seeing her, Ashton’s pulse quickened. She really was gorgeous, and although he wasn’t ready to start dating again (it would be quite a while before he put himself out there), at least it proved he might be one day.

‘More post?’ she asked, then she clocked the camera and her eyebrows rose.

‘Hi, is Dulcie in? I need to have a quick word.’

‘Yeah. Hang on a minute.’

She turned away, presenting him with her profile, and he tried not to stare at the curve of her cheek or the way her long lashes curled almost to her brow.

She yelled, ‘Dulcie, your postman wants a word!’

Ashton heard Dulcie shout that she would be there in a second, which left him and Carla gazing awkwardly at each other.

‘You’ve got a big camera,’ she said, then to his amusement she blushed furiously. ‘That’s not a euphemism, by the way.’

He held back a smile. ‘I didn’t think it was.’ He stroked the long lens absently, then realised what he was doing and snatched his hand away. Oh flip, now he was blushing.

Carla smirked. ‘What’s your speciality? Or shouldn’t I ask?’

‘What? No! I don’t—! He sighed. ‘Wildlife.’

‘You’re here because of the cat, so am I right in thinking it wasn’t a cat at all?’ She studied him, and he felt the weight of her stare on his face.

‘Probably not. From your description, I’d say it was a stoat or a weasel.’

She shook her head. ‘I doubt it. It was tiny.’

‘You’d be surprised how small they are. Squirrel sized.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Really?’

Dulcie appeared in the doorway. ‘Hi, Ashton. Is anything wrong?’

‘Not at all. I wondered whether I could park my car in your yard? I’m off for a walk, you see, and—’

‘He thinks the cat I saw this morning might be a stoat or a weasel. He wants to photograph it.’ Carla sounded excited.

Dulcie’s gaze dropped to his chest and the camera sitting there. ‘You’re a photographer?’

‘In my spare time.’

‘Any good?’ she asked.

‘Not bad. Hardly professional level, though.’

‘If you manage to take a couple of snaps of it, will you show me?’ Carla asked.

Snaps? He tried not to take offence. ‘I will,’ he promised. ‘But the likelihood of seeing it is small.’

‘ I saw it.’

‘Right place, right time,’ he replied mildly.

Dulcie suddenly asked, ‘Is photography just a hobby, or do you take on paid work?’

‘Not as such. I have sold a couple of photos, though.’ He tried to gauge why she wanted to know.

‘I wonder whether you could take some shots of the farm for our website? I’ll happily pay the going rate.’

‘I’d be delighted to, but there’s really no need to pay me.’

Dulcie scowled at him. ‘That’s no way to run a business.’

‘I’m not running a business. I do this for fun.’ He gently tapped the camera.

‘I’ll pay you in kind, then,’ she said, shooting Carla a look when Carla giggled.

Ashton refused to meet Carla’s eye. ‘There’s no need,’ he reiterated.

‘There absolutely is!’ Dulcie was insistent. ‘How about some fresh produce? We’ve got pears, eggs, milk and cheese, and I could add a couple of punnets of blackberries. Oh, and how about soap? Perhaps your girlfriend would like to take a look at our website and choose some. We do candles, too. Better still, how about a nice romantic meal for two in The Wild Side?’

She was gazing at him hopefully, and Ashton tried not to flinch. He had no intention of stepping through The Wild Side’s door ever again. Not after the last time.

‘I, um, don’t have a girlfriend.’ He glanced at Carla as he said it, then hastily looked away.

Dulcie said, ‘Sorry, I thought you did. My mistake.’

‘We split up.’

‘That’s a shame. Would your mum like something instead?’

‘The fresh produce is fine,’ he replied, not wanting any but guessing that Dulcie wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

‘Great! I’ll leave a note with my number on under your windscreen wiper, and we can chat about it tomorrow or the day after, if that’s okay?’

‘That’s fine.’

‘We could do it now, but we’re going out in half an hour and I need to get ready. We’re having dinner at The Wild Side.’ Her eyes widened. ‘You’re welcome to join us.’

He caught Carla’s surprised expression out of the corner of his eye. Even if he did consider accepting Dulcie’s offer, he got the impression that Carla wouldn’t appreciate him being there.

‘I’m not really dressed for it but thank you anyway.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the hillside behind the house. ‘Thanks for letting me park my car here, I appreciate it.’

Dulcie said, ‘It’s no bother. Next time, don’t ask. If I see your car in the yard, I’ll assume you’re off photographing something. And don’t forget to give me a call.’

‘I won’t,’ he promised. He was flattered she’d asked. Although, considering she hadn’t seen any of his work, she might wish she hadn’t. However, as he walked briskly up the path, he realised he was very much looking forward to showing Carla what he was capable of. No, not Carla , he amended – Dulcie .

Ignoring his mental slip of the tongue, he pushed on up the hill – he had a small, elusive mammal to capture on film.

Carla twiddled the stem of her wine glass, growing a little exasperated.

‘You thought Ashton was hot when you visited last time,’ Dulcie pressed. It was the second time she’d mentioned it.

‘I don’t think so now, okay?’

‘Why not? He looks the same as he did before. He hasn’t changed in the slightest.’ Dulcie waved her glass in the air and wine sloshed out. Otto looked bemused.

‘Maybe not, but I have.’

The three of them were enjoying an early dinner in The Wild Side, Dulcie enjoying it more than Carla and Otto combined, judging by the amount of wine she’d consumed.

Slurring her words, Dulcie said, ‘You know what they say – the best way to get over one man is to get underneath another.’

‘No thanks.’

‘But he’s cute!’ Dulcie took a slug of her wine, and Otto gently took the glass out of her hand. ‘Oi! What are you doing? That’s mine.’

‘You’re tipsy,’ he said.

‘I know. Isn’t it wonderful?’

‘You won’t think it’s wonderful tomorrow morning when you’re dealing with shouty, sweary customers.’

Carla said, ‘She always was a lightweight.’

Dulcie looked affronted. ‘I’m not!’ She turned to Otto. ‘Tell her I’m not.’

‘She is,’ he agreed, laughing.

Dulcie scowled and poked her tongue out. ‘I’m not speaking to you. Go and do something cheffy and leave us girls to talk about girly stuff.’

Otto stood up, grinning. ‘I’ll send someone over with a couple of coffees.’

Dulcie tracked his progress to the bar. ‘He’s lovely,’ she sighed.

Envy nibbled at Carla once more. She was delighted to see Dulcie so happy and in love, and would give anything to have that for herself.

‘Do you think he’s cute?’ Dulcie asked.

‘What? Otto? Er… I haven’t really thought about it.’

‘Not Otto, you dipstick – Ashton.’

‘Oh, we’re back to that, are we? Can we please stop talking about your postman?’

‘Okay, but I think he fancies you.’

Carla rolled her eyes. ‘I don’t care if he does. Have you forgotten the reason I’m here?’

Suddenly Dulcie didn’t seem quite so tipsy. ‘No, I haven’t. But I don’t believe Yale was the love of your life, and I certainly don’t believe you’re heartbroken.’

Her comment made Carla pause. ‘You’re right, he wasn’t and I’m not. He could have been, though.’

Dulcie snorted. ‘Yeah, if he’d had a personality change. Anyone who behaved the way he did, is a creep.’

Carla had to agree. Admittedly she had been upset at how he’d deceived her, but she was over that now. She was still upset, but not about him – she was far too worried about losing her job. Yale could go to hell, as far as she was concerned. But that didn’t mean she wanted another man in her life. It would be a very long time before she would get back on the dating horse again. She had too much going on to even consider it.

You win some, you lose some , Ashton thought as he made his way back down the hillside to his car. Two hours of sitting motionless in the bracken hadn’t revealed even a glimpse of a stoat. However, he’d shot some lovely images of skylarks, a vole, the fattest bumblebee in the world, rabbits playing, and a slinking fox in search of his supper. So it hadn’t been all bad.

Dusk was now falling and it would be dark soon, so it was time to make a move. He was absolutely starving, and thinking of food reminded him of Dulcie’s offer to dine at The Wild Side this evening. Although his emotions were telling him he had been wise not to take her up on it, his stomach was yelling at him that he should have done. Despite never wanting to set foot in the place again, from what he could remember, the food had been delicious. No wonder, considering Otto York was a Michelin-star chef. Maybe one day he would be able to face going back.

As he neared the farmhouse, Ashton’s thoughts turned to the photos Dulcie had asked him to take, and he began to scan his surroundings for suitable subjects.

The sun had almost dipped below the hills on the opposite side of the valley, and the sky was bathed in pink, peach and gold. Directly below him was the field of sunflowers. He had passed the nodding yellow blooms on the way up the hillside, but he’d been focusing on the possibility of spotting the stoat or weasel and hadn’t paid them much attention.

He noticed them now, though. With the setting sun highlighting them, the flowers positively shone. Before he knew it, he had lifted the camera. Hopefully, he would get a few good photos for Dulcie.

Then he spotted something and froze.

A stoat was weaving through the long stems, its sinuous body the most gorgeous shades of chocolate: milk chocolate on its head and back, white chocolate on its throat, chest and belly, and the unmistakable dark (almost black) chocolate tip to its tail, which indicated it was a stoat and not a weasel. He was close enough to see that all four paws were also white, and the animal looked as though it was wearing tiny socks.

Praying it wouldn’t spot him, Ashton zoomed in. He must have taken fifty photos before it disappeared, and he let out a slow satisfied breath.

This is what he lived for; this was what gave him joy and made him complete – not a job, or money, or things. This. Lacey had never understood.

As Ashton returned to his car, his soul filled with the wonders of nature, he made himself a promise that the next woman he gave his heart to, would love this as much as he did.