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

CHAPTER FOUR

Carla’s heart was in her mouth as she eyed the contacts list on her mobile. Would Vicky be at her desk by now? And even if she was, did Carla want to speak to her? What if Vicky told her something she didn’t like?

Aw, heck, Vicky was her friend; she absolutely should call her, even if the news from work wasn’t the best. Anyway, Carla had hiked halfway up the mountain to get a signal because the mobile reception was so bad at the farm. She’d multi-tasked though, having brought one of the goats with her. She figured she might as well make herself useful, and keeping out of Dulcie’s way this morning was also a good idea. Carla was glad she hadn’t drunk as much as her friend; the poor girl looked rather green around the gills!

‘Can you talk?’ was Carla’s opening line when Vicky answered the phone.

‘Carla?’ she whispered. ‘Hang on, I’ll go to the medical room. There’s never anyone in there, and if someone does come in I’ll hold my bump and groan a bit.’

Carla heard her friend’s muffled voice as she greeted her co-workers, then she heard the lift ping, and knew that Vicky was in the corridor. The sound of a door opening and being firmly closed, was followed by heels clacking over a tiled floor.

‘Okay, I can talk now,’ she said. ‘How are you? What’s going on? Have you heard anything from HR?’

‘I’m fine. I’m still at Dulcie’s.’ Carla had messaged Vicky before she’d left Birmingham to tell her that she was staying at the farm for a few days.

‘I thought you might be. But how are you really?’

‘Okay, I guess. Angry, mostly. I feel so stupid.’

‘Don’t. It’s not your fault. It’s Yale’s.’

‘Is he back from his holiday?’

‘Not yet. There’s a rumour going around that he needed to take additional time off to recover from the trauma.’

‘Trauma? What bloody trauma? I’m the one who is traumatised. The—’ Carla bit back the rude word she had been about to call him.

Vicky said, ‘Don’t worry, no one believes it. He’s not lying on a psychiatrist’s couch, he’s lying on a sun lounger on a Mexican beach. With his fiancée, obviously.’

‘Obviously.’ Carla’s reply was pure sarcasm. ‘I actually feel sorry for her. She doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for.’ She hesitated, then asked in a small voice, ‘What’s everyone saying about me?’

‘Nothing bad. Everyone knows you wouldn’t throw yourself at a man, especially not one who’s already taken.’

Carla was momentarily buoyed up by the news, but it didn’t last. ‘I don’t suppose it matters what they think, it’s what HR believes.’ It took an effort to rally, but she managed it, saying, ‘How about you and Bump? Are you okay?’

‘We’re doing well.’ Carla could hear the smile in Vicky’s voice. ‘I can’t wait to go on maternity leave. Eight working days, then I’m out of here, and one of those is a training day so that doesn’t count.’

‘Are you still adamant that you’re not coming back after you’ve had the baby?’

‘Definitely not! At least, not for long. I’ll be damned if I’m going to pay back any maternity pay. I’ll have to check out the rules and regulations, so I might have to work for a few weeks. But that’s it. After that, I’m done.’

‘I don’t blame you.’ Carla could imagine how hard it would be to leave her baby and go back to work.

Vicky said, ‘I’d better get back to my desk before someone comes looking for me. Keep in touch, yeah?’

‘I will,’ Carla promised, and as she said goodbye she wondered whether Vicky would have already begun her maternity leave when she came back to Birmingham for the hearing. She wished HR would get a move on, as the suspense was killing her. The sooner she knew that she had definitely been sacked, the sooner she could move on.

What she was going to move on to , was anyone’s guess.

When Carla returned from her walk, Dulcie was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. Dulcie’s mum, Beth, was also there.

Beth got up to give her a hug. ‘Men!’ she cried. ‘There’re all bath plugs.’

Carla smiled. ‘Bath plugs?’

‘You know what I mean. I have to be careful what I say these days, what with our Sammy, and little Amory at the stables. Little pitchers have big ears.’ Beth stood back. ‘Let me look at you.’ The woman’s gaze swept her from head to foot, and Carla tried not to cringe under her scrutiny. ‘You’re too skinny,’ she announced. ‘And you look worn out.’

‘Thanks.’ Carla didn’t think she looked that bad; a little tired maybe, but that was the stress.

Beth turned to Dulcie. ‘She does, doesn’t she?’

Dulcie lifted her head. Her eyes were dull, and her normally healthily tanned skin was more of a grey colour. She groaned and dropped her head again.

Beth said, ‘Serves her right. She forgets that she’s getting older. At eighteen, you can bounce back from a hangover in a matter of hours. At thirty, it takes a day. When you get to my age, it can take a week and there’s no bouncing involved. How’s your mum keeping?’

Carla blinked at the abrupt change of topic. ‘She’s good, thanks. In Saint Lucia at the moment.’

‘Tell her I said hello.’

‘I will.’ Carla and her mum messaged each other several times a week. It was often easier than phoning, as there was nearly always a time difference between them.

Beth bustled around making cups of tea and laying out a plate of biscuits, as they caught up on their news. Gradually Dulcie perked up, but there was still some way to go before she was back to her usual self. And when her phone rang, she winced.

Carla smirked, feeling rather virtuous, and left her to it. She’d spotted Maisie through the kitchen window, and went outside to see if she needed a hand. She’d enjoyed the soap making yesterday. It was very different from what she usually did, and had helped take her mind off her problems.

By the time Beth called them in for lunch, Carla had made several blocks of soap on her own (under supervision) and was feeling rather pleased with herself. She was also ravenous, not used to being on her feet as much.

Over a goat’s cheese salad with new potatoes that had been slathered with lightly salted butter, the three Fairfax women discussed business while Carla listened.

She was fascinated to see how well Beth and her daughters got on, because the girls had been a bit of a handful when they were younger, and Beth had often been at the end of her tether. Carla supposed it was only to be expected, considering she’d been a single parent with four kids to raise. The eldest, Nikki, lived in the village with her partner and son, Sammy. Jay, the next eldest and only boy, now lived in New Zealand, whilst Maisie had also relocated to Picklewick earlier in the year, Beth following shortly after.

Dulcie said, ‘Carla’s come up with a brilliant idea. She suggested we open a farm shop.’

‘In Picklewick?’ Beth asked.

‘Here, on the farm. I can’t afford to rent a shop in the village and I haven’t got the time to man it, either. Not even when I give up the day job.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘Which reminds me, I start my shift in twenty minutes and Ashton is supposed to be calling in to take some photos of the farm for the website. Mum, do you think you can show him around?’

‘Can’t, sorry. Walter has an appointment at the hospital, and then we’ve got a macrame class at the community centre.’

‘Maisie, how about you?’

‘Adam has a delivery of bricks coming, and I said I’d be there to receive it. If you ask Ashton to come later today or tomorrow—’

‘I can show him around,’ Carla interjected. ‘Tell me what you want him to photograph, and I’ll point him in the right direction.’ How hard could it be? The farm wasn’t that big, and it wasn’t as though Dulcie had hundreds of animals or tonnes of produce.

Dulcie pulled a face. ‘Sorry about what I said last night. I know you’re not ready to jump on the horse again.’

Maisie said, ‘I didn’t know you could ride?’

‘I can’t,’ Carla replied. ‘It was metaphorical.’ She held up a hand, anticipating Maisie’s next question. ‘Don’t ask.’

‘If you’re sure you don’t mind,’ Dulcie said doubtfully. ‘You’re supposed to be here for some R and R, not as unpaid labour.’

‘I’m sure. Unless there’s something else you need me to do?’

‘It’s all in hand, I think.’ Dulcie checked with Maisie, who nodded.

Beth stood up and began collecting the empty bowls. ‘I’ll just stick these in the dishwasher, then I’ll be off.’

Maisie got to her feet. ‘I’d better be off, too. You know what delivery drivers are like. They estimate to be there between two and four, but I’d hate for it to be early and miss it.

Dulcie went to prepare for her shift dealing with unhappy customers, leaving Carla wondering what to do with herself until Ashton arrived. It was lovely out – warm and sunny, autumn not yet having made an appearance – so she decided to take a book into the orchard. She had quite enjoyed sitting in the heather yesterday, and hoped the peace and solitude would do her good.

After all, as Dulcie had pointed out, being at the farm was supposed to give her some respite from recent events. If that meant lazing around in the sunshine for an hour or two, that’s what she would do.

Carla was fully engrossed in the uplifting romance she was reading (courtesy of the bookshelf in Dulcie’s living room) when the sound of a vehicle coming up Muddypuddle Lane jolted her out of the story.

Checking the time, she realised it was probably Ashton, and she hurried to intercept him before he interrupted Dulcie by knocking on the farmhouse door.

He didn’t see her at first, and she took a second to study him as he emerged from his car. Dulcie was right – Carla had referred to him as hot during her last visit and she could see why. Taller than her five-foot-seven by several inches, he was lean but had muscles in all the right places. His short sandy hair curled a little, and he was clean-shaven, with the loveliest blue eyes. She remembered thinking that he reminded her of a young Robert Redford.

‘Hi.’ His voice broke into her thoughts, and she realised he had caught her staring. ‘Dulcie is expecting me,’ he added.

‘Er, yeah, she asked me to do the honours.’

‘Okay, cool.’ He reached into his car and carefully lifted out his camera and a small satchel-type bag which he slung over his shoulder.

‘Did you see the stoat?’ she asked, and was taken aback by the smile that lit up his face. He had dimples!

‘I did. Want to see? It’s better if we go into the barn,’ he said and Carla raised her eyebrows, only relaxing when he explained, ‘It’s too bright out here to see the screen clearly.’

She followed him into the relative gloom of the barn’s interior and waited until he was ready. She assumed he would hand her his camera, but he passed his mobile phone to her instead. ‘My camera sends them straight to my phone. Do you think Dulcie might like to see them?’ He glanced at the farmhouse, his expression hopeful.

‘I’m sure she would, but she’s working right now. Which is why you’ve got me.’ Carla pulled a face in self-deprecation.

‘No worries,’ he said.

But Carla wasn’t listening. She was too busy scrolling through the images on his phone. Damn, he was good! He’d captured the essence of the creature she’d seen perfectly. She couldn’t believe how clear the picture was. It was like looking at a photo taken by a professional.

She studied each one intently, noticing the animal’s whiskers, the play of light and shadow over its fur, and the bright beady eyes. Then she scrolled some more, and when the sunflower meadow came into view, she sucked in a sharp breath.

‘Are they okay?’ Ashton asked, and she looked up from the screen to see his worried face.

‘They’re brilliant!’ she cried. ‘Absolutely flippin’ brilliant.’ She angled the screen. ‘This one is perfect for Dulcie’s website. She’s going to love it!’

‘I hope so.’ He looked relieved. ‘Where shall we start?’

‘In here?’ she suggested. The barn was home to several adorable bunnies. ‘Or maybe we could take them outside? Dulcie has a pen that can be moved around.’

‘Perfect.’

There was a momentary awkward hesitation on both their parts, and it was only when he made no move to catch any of the rabbits that Carla realised he was expecting her to catch one.

Oh, crumbs.

The pen was in the orchard, just by the gate, and Carla was thankful that it wasn’t far because the rabbit was squirming and wriggling. She popped it into the pen, glad to be relieved of the little creature.

‘Do you think we can move the pen?’ Ashton asked.

‘Why?’ She wasn’t being awkward; she genuinely wanted to know.

‘Because I’d like to get a shot of the rabbit without the pen in the picture. Maybe we could put it over there?’ He pointed to an apple tree with lavender growing near the base of the trunk.

Carla could immediately see how the new location would work. The rabbit she had picked was the cutest: lop-eared with black and white fur that would stand out well against the lavender flowers, and the green foliage would hide the metalwork.

She picked the bunny up and held it whilst Ashton moved the pen.

‘Make sure it’s secure,’ she advised, remembering Dulcie telling her that rabbits were excellent escape artists, which was one of the reasons they weren’t left on their own outside for long as the naughty little creatures often tried to dig their way out.

The new location seemed to please the rabbit. It immediately settled down to nibble on a dandelion and Ashton wasted no time taking several shots. He was soon done and ready to move on to the next subject.

‘Goats,’ Carla announced. ‘Let me pop this little fella back first.’ She caught the rabbit, cradling it in her arms as she planted a little kiss on its fluffy head, then quickly returned it to the barn.

When she came back, she found Ashton busily photographing fruit. The trees in the orchard were laden with ripe pears and plums, although the apples weren’t ready for picking just yet. On the other hand, the blackberries were definitely ripe. The shiny black fruit glistened in the sun, and Carla’s mouth watered as she thought of blackcurrant crumble with lashings of golden custard.

They reached the goats’ field and she was quiet for a while, letting Ashton concentrate, but the silence felt strained (although he didn’t seem to notice) and eventually she felt compelled to fill it.

‘Have you always been a postman?’ she asked.

‘Not really. I was a child once.’

‘Ha ha, very funny.’

He grinned at her, revealing those dimples. ‘Yes, I’ve worked for the post office since I left school.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘I do.’

‘Why?’

‘Dunno, really.’ His attention was firmly on the camera, but she noticed his knuckles whitening as he tightened his grip and wondered why her question had caused such a reaction.

Carla persevered. ‘Is it because you’re outside a lot?’

‘Partly.’

‘Do the early starts give you more time to do this?’

He paused, holding the camera away from his face. ‘I still do a forty-hour week.’

‘But not nine to five?’

‘No.’ He lifted it back to his face. ‘How about you? What do you do?’

‘I work for an insurance company.’

‘Doing what, exactly?’

‘I’m a fraud investigation officer.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Yes, it’s interesting.’

‘Are you from Birmingham?’

’I am.’

‘Do you like it there?’

‘Not as much as I used to. Do you like living in Picklewick?’

‘I don’t live in Picklewick. I live in Thornbury. It’s a town about nine miles away.’

‘I know it.’

‘Yes, I do like it there. As towns go, it’s not too big and it’s got everything I need.’

‘Like what? Pubs, restaurants, shops?’ she guessed.

‘A canal and good links to the countryside.’

‘Do you live on a boat?’

He chuckled. ‘No, I live in a regular house, but the canal is a brilliant place for wildlife.’

‘Why photography?’

He put the camera down to his side. ‘Why so many questions?’

Carla shrugged. ‘Just making conversation.’

‘I love photography because I can’t paint and I want to capture some of the magic. Most people see a sunset, but few see a kingfisher or an otter in the flesh.’

‘You’re incredibly good. You’ve got a real talent.’

‘Meh, anyone can take a decent photo.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I bet you can.’

‘Seriously, I can’t. I’ve got a pretty good camera on my phone, but the photos usually come out blurry, or I’ve not noticed a lamp post coming out of someone’s head.’

‘You can teach yourself how to compose photos.’ He pointed to one of the goatlings who was on top of the climbing frame. ‘See that little one? If you took a photo of it now, it should be good because most of the animal is visible, and there’s grass and sky for the background.’ He slipped his hand out of the camera’s strap and offered it to her. ‘Give it a go.’

‘ Me? ’ Carla was incredulous. ‘What if I drop it?’

‘You won’t.’ He sounded certain, so she took the camera, holding it tightly. Then she relaxed her grip, fearful she’d break something with the strength of it. There were so many dials, buttons, and numbers, and she had no idea what they were for. Was she supposed to do something with them, or could she just point and shoot?

‘Go on,’ Ashton urged.

‘Just like that? I don’t have to twiddle or turn anything?’

His smile was indulgent. ‘You can, if you want, but let’s take one step at a time, eh?’ He leant in, and she caught a whiff of his aftershave. He smelt lovely. ‘Just look through there, and press this button,’ he said.

‘That’s it?’

‘Pretty much.’

Carla glanced around. What should she take a photo of? The goat on the climbing frame had jumped down and she bit her lip uncertainly. One of the animals was lying in the sun, its jaws working from side to side as it chewed. Hesitantly, she brought the camera up to her face and closed one eye to peer through the viewfinder. She gasped as she zoomed in on the goat’s nose.

‘I can see the colour of its eyes,’ she whispered. Taking the camera away from her face, she stared at the creature, marvelling at the detail the telephoto lens revealed. ‘It’s like magic.’

Ashton chuckled, and Carla realised how daft she sounded. ‘I mean, I know what zoom lenses can do – I’m not stupid – it’s just… I’ve never looked through one before. It’s nothing like the zoom on my phone.’

‘No, it isn’t.’

She put the viewfinder to her eye again, closing the other. The goat wore a dreamy blissful expression on its face, one that she envied. She pressed the shutter button.

‘Can I see?’ He moved closer to her, his chest against her arm. ‘You can see the photo you’ve just taken by looking at the LCD screen.’ He pressed a button, and the image appeared. Carla had captured the goat’s expression perfectly.

‘Not bad,’ he said. ‘Not bad at all. See, I told you that you could do it.’

‘Can I have another go?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely. What else does Dulcie want me to photograph?’

Dulcie had only given Carla the briefest of briefs, so Carla wasn’t entirely sure. She paused, imagining what might capture her interest if she were a customer, and what might persuade her to visit the farm. Natural, organic, and nature were the buzzwords that came to mind.

‘Chickens,’ she said. ‘And eggs. People might like to see where their eggs come from.’ She was thinking about the farm shop. ‘And then the bottles of milk, the cheese, and the soaps.’

Ashton said, ‘What if I take a few, then you can have a go? And as I take each image, I’ll explain what I’m doing and why. But I must warn you, not every photo is a great photo. Everyone takes duds, me included, so don’t expect it to be perfect every time. And before I shut up, I’ll just say one more thing – it takes practice to take a really great shot. Lots and lots of practice.’

Ashton’s passion for photography was clear, and it was catching. Carla could certainly appreciate what he saw in it, especially when it came to photographing animals.

She wished she’d thought to whip her phone out yesterday and take one of the stoat, but the creature would probably have disappeared by the time she’d got it out of her pocket. Anyway, her photo wouldn’t have been half as good as Ashton’s.

She could practice taking photos whilst she was here, she mused, as she led him towards the chicken coop in the hope of finding one of the free-range birds lingering nearby. It would give her something to do when she wasn’t helping out on the farm. And it might be nice to dawdle through the fields looking for things to photograph.

She must admit that she’d felt better after sitting in the orchard with her book, so maybe Dulcie was right, and she needed time to recuperate. Finding out that your boyfriend already had a fiancée, being dumped, and that you might be about to lose your job, was enough to fray anyone’s nerves.