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

CHAPTER SEVEN

Carla flinched as the hinges of the back door creaked. She had just kissed Ashton goodbye, and was now trying to sneak into the farmhouse and shuffle off to bed before Dulcie saw her face and realised something had happened.

She could hear the sound of the television coming from the living room, and assumed Dulcie and Otto were snuggled on the sofa. Which was another reason to make herself scarce. They didn’t need her doing a spare wheel impression, and they deserved to spend some time alone.

Tiptoeing through the dining room and into the tiny hall, she thought she’d got away with it, but as she put her foot on the bottom step, Dulcie called out, ‘Carla, is that you?’

Sheepishly, Carla stuck her head around the door, trying to use it to hide some of her face.

‘Did you have a nice time?’ Dulcie asked.

‘Er, yeah, it was okay.’

Dulcie’s gaze sharpened. ‘Just okay?’

With a sigh, Carla realised she might as well come clean. Dulcie would hear about it anyway because Adam was bound to tell Maisie what he’d seen.

‘We kissed,’ she said, stepping into the room. Otto grinned at her.

‘You didn’t!’ Dulcie sounded incredulous, but the disbelief was tinged with satisfaction.

Glumly, Carla replied, ‘We did. In the middle of the lane.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Do you think it’s possible to get high from looking at toadstools?’

‘ What? ’

‘I saw a toadstool and crouched down to have a closer look, and so did Ashton. I’m not sure what happened, but he kind of fell over, pulling me with him, and then we were kissing.’

Dulcie smirked. ‘Just like that?’

‘Yes, just like that. Then Adam drove up the lane and caught us.’

‘He did? Oh, my! What happened next?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Nothing at all?’ Dulcie’s eyebrows rose.

‘No. Ashton went home.’

‘Are you seeing him again?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why so glum?’

‘For one, I don’t make a habit of sitting in the middle of a road, snogging. For another, I don’t want to get involved with anyone. Not here, and definitely not now.’

‘So why are you seeing him again?

Carla shrugged. Admittedly, she was attracted to him and enjoyed his company, but was that sufficient reason to go on a date?

Her inner voice let out a snide laugh, and she was forced to admit that she’d gone on dates for far less valid reasons.

‘A bit of fun will do you good,’ Dulcie continued.

‘I didn’t come here for fun. I came here to cry on your shoulder, not to get involved with some guy.’

‘But you like him and he likes you, otherwise he wouldn’t be helping you with your photography.’

There’s no future in it,’ Carla pointed out.

‘Since when have you been bothered about the future? It’s a date, not a marriage proposal.’

Carla decided to change the subject. ‘I spoke to Vicky earlier,’ she began and proceeded to recount the conversation, ending with, ‘I’m going to call Anita Campbell in the morning.’

As Carla prepared for bed, she assumed she would lie awake mulling over the information Vicky had given her, and how, if it were true, it could affect the hearing.

However, it wasn’t that which occupied her thoughts, it was Ashton – because as kisses went, it had been simply delicious.

Ashton’s shift seemed to last forever. It was the longest shift he’d worked in his life, each minute feeling more like an hour, and he found himself hurrying through his round as though getting back to the depot earlier meant he could knock off earlier. It didn’t, unfortunately.

He’d not had any post for the farm today and he couldn’t decide whether he was disappointed, before coming down on the side of relief. He had a feeling that seeing Carla whilst he was at work might prove awkward.

But when he thought about their date later, his pulse quickened and there was a flutter in his chest, which was concerning. He was on a hiding to nothing, and he warned himself not to get carried away. Carla was gorgeous and he liked her immensely, but she would be out of his life soon, so he should enjoy this for what it was.

Unfortunately, he didn’t know what it was. A confidence boost maybe? A reassurance that not every woman found him as boring as Lacey did. That he still had it, whatever it was. Actually, scrap that – he’d never been particularly popular with the girls. Too much of a nerd, he guessed. Not athletic, or edgy.

There was one thing you could say about him – his nan, bless her heart, often told him what a nice boy he was, but he suspected that was because he smuggled bottles of stout into the care home for her. His mum would have a fit if she knew.

He wondered whether he would have time to pay Nan a quick visit this morning, since he’d managed to get ahead with his round. She lived in Honeymead Care Home on the outskirts of Picklewick, which was on his round, and he tried to call in wherever he could.

Deciding he did, he popped into the off-licence in Picklewick’s high street and bought her a couple of bottles and a multi-pack of spicy Nik Naks. That should see her right for a couple of days.

When he arrived at the care home, he was buzzed inside immediately and handed the stack of post to Rose on the reception desk.

‘How’s my grandmother today?’ he asked.

‘As chirpy as always. She’s in the day room, waiting to have her hair done.’

Perfect. The day room took him past her bedroom, which meant he could smuggle in the bottles of stout and hide them at the back of her wardrobe behind her shoes.

He was in and out in a flash and striding into the day room with no one any the wiser.

His nan spotted him immediately, and her face lit up in a big smile. ‘Ashton, my lovely boy. Come give your nana a kiss.’ When he bent down to kiss her cheek, she hissed in his ear, ‘Did you bring me any stout?’

‘It’s in the usual place.’

‘You’re a good boy.’

‘I haven’t got long,’ he warned, sitting in the chair next to her.

‘I guessed as much.’ She fingered the sleeve of his Royal Mail tee shirt. ‘How are you?’

‘I’m good.’ Her eyes narrowed, and she gave him a beady stare before her expression softened. ‘You look better than the last time I saw you. Not as sad.’ She pulled a face. ‘I never did like Lacey. She didn’t have any taste.’

‘Because she turned me down?’ He gave his grandmother a rueful smile.

‘Partly. And because she thought her poop didn’t smell.’

‘Nan! That’s not nice.’

‘It’s true,’ his grandmother said. ‘She thought she was too good for you.’ A fierce light shone in her eyes. ‘No one is good enough for my grandson.’

‘You’re biased.’

‘I’m right. Now, what’s your news?’

‘I haven’t got any.’

‘Liar. I can see it in your face.’

Thankfully Ashton was saved from further questioning when his nan’s attention was caught by one of the carers gesturing to her.

‘It’s my turn.’ His nan patted her hair. ‘I was thinking of having it coloured pink.’

‘Go for it, Nan.’

‘That’s what I love about you,’ she said, pinching his cheek as he helped her get to her feet and find her walking stick. ‘Nothing ever rattles you. Not even that Lacey business. Right, I’m off for my pampering session. I was only joking about the colour, by the way.’

Ashton watched her shuffle down the corridor, his heart full of love, and as he left the care home, he idly wondered whether she would also think that Carla wasn’t good enough for him.

The Golden Fleece in Thornbury was a trendy bar. Not really his scene (he preferred quieter, more traditional watering holes) but Ashton thought Carla might enjoy it. The food was supposed to be good, and the selection of gins was astounding. Not that he would sample any, as he couldn’t stand the stuff, but he hoped Carla liked them.

He had collected her from the farm, conscious of a shadowy figure peering out of the kitchen window, and guessed it was Dulcie. There was an awkward moment when he wondered whether Carla expected a kiss, before they settled for a peck on the cheek and a brief hug.

And now they were sitting in the bar across the table from one another, debating whether to have a starter. He had the feeling Carla seemed reluctant, and guessed she might be worried about the price of the meal. This place wasn’t cheap, although it wasn’t as expensive as The Wild Side.

As though she’d read his mind, Carla said, ‘Otto suggested we dine at The Wild Side, rather than drag you all the way to Picklewick to pick me up, then drive all the way here. I know Thornbury’s not far, but…’

Ashton’s mouth tightened and his jaw clenched. The Wild Side was the last place he wanted to eat at.

He thought he’d covered his reaction, but he clearly hadn’t, as Carla said, ‘I know it’s pricey, but Otto wouldn’t charge us the full amount.’

‘It’s not that—’

‘Please don’t tell me you’ve had a bad experience there,’ she interrupted, then saw his expression. ‘Oh, dear, you have.’

‘Not in the way you think. The food was lovely, the occasion not so much.’

She was looking at him expectantly, and he realised he couldn’t leave it there. He had to give her an explanation. He took a steadying breath. ‘I proposed to my girlfriend there. She turned me down.’

Carla’s expression was full of sympathy. ‘It seems neither of us has been lucky in love.’ She paused, and he could see her thinking. ‘The Wild Side hasn’t been open very long, so I assume this was fairly recent?’

‘It was.’ He drank some of his sparkling water, the pain of Lacey’s rejection hitting him anew.

Carla said, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I’ll get over it.’ He stared into space, his smile sad. ‘It was probably for the best. We weren’t compatible. Wanted different things out of life. And she didn’t approve of my hobby. Said it was boring.’ Then he added, ‘She said I was boring, and that I lacked ambition.’ He grimaced. ‘She’s right, I do, and I’m not going to apologise.’

‘I don’t think you’re boring.’

‘That’s kind of you.’

‘I’m being honest. I think you’re fascinating.’ Her eyes widened. ‘I mean, photography is fascinating and you’re a photographer, so…’

He chuckled. ‘I know what you mean. But I’m the first to admit that I’m not the most exciting person in the world. I’m a postman, for goodness’ sake, and I like my job. I don’t want promotion or more responsibility.’

She giggled. ‘I bet I can beat you in a ‘who is the most boring’ contest. I work in insurance for a start, and I still live at home.’

Oh, that’s definitely a point for you. At least I’ve got my own place,’ he teased.

‘In my defence, my mum works for a travel company as a rep and she’s away for months on end, so it’s almost as good as having my own house, but without the mortgage.’

‘No mortgage,’ he said dreamily. ‘I can’t imagine what that’s like.’

‘I keep thinking I should move out and put a toe on the property ladder, but I can’t afford it unless I do a flat-share thing, and I don’t fancy that. I like my own space.’

‘What would happen if your mum came back for good?’

‘I’d have to move out, I think. The thought of bringing someone back when she’s there…’ Carla shuddered, then bit her lip. ‘Not that I take men home very often.’

‘You don’t have to explain or justify anything.’

‘But I don’t want you to think—’

‘I don’t.’ He hoped she could hear the sincerity in his voice. ‘Shall we order? We’ve been nursing these menus for ages, and the waiter is hovering.’

With their orders given, Ashton remembered to ask her whether she had phoned Anita-what’s-her-face today.

‘I did,’ Carla replied with a frown. ‘But she wasn’t prepared to discuss it over the phone. She wants to meet in person.’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘She might be a stalker or something. Besides, she lives in Leeds.’

‘Will it help your case if you go?’

‘I don’t know until I talk to her. I discussed it with my union rep, and he said that depending on the information she gives me, it might help.’

‘You should go.’

‘I suppose.’

‘Would you like me to come with you?’

Carla gasped. ‘You’d do that?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the guy is a jerk, and he shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it. And I can see how much you’re hurting.’

Her smile was warm. ‘Has anyone told you that you’re a very nice man?’

Ashton didn’t say anything, and if Carla had been aware of the lustful thoughts that went through his mind when he kissed her good night later, she would have quickly changed her opinion of him.

Carla was seriously cheesed off that HR hadn’t been in touch with her regarding a date for the meeting. How much longer was this going to go on? She was in limbo until it was resolved.

The silver lining, as Ashton pointed out on the journey to Leeds, was that at least the delay had given her time to speak to Anita Campbell.

Ashton, she’d discovered, usually looked on the bright side and his cheerfulness was rubbing off on her. In his company, she couldn’t be morose. She was so glad he’d offered to accompany her today, and not just because it saved her from an arduous train journey. If it hadn’t been for him, Carla might have been tempted to return to Birmingham and stay there, rather than travel back and forth to Picklewick, because she was conscious of not outstaying her welcome at the farm.

As soon as she returned to Muddypuddle Lane this evening, she really should have a discussion with Dulcie, because she honestly didn’t know how long this situation would continue. It could be a matter of days, or weeks. God forbid, it might even be months, and there was no way she could stay with Dulcie for that length of time, no matter how useful she tried to be.

Unfortunately, Carla didn’t want to return to Birmingham. She was quite settled at the farm, and neither did she want to leave Ashton. She would miss him more than was wise.

Over the past few days she had developed feelings for him, and that didn’t sit well with her. She had got over Yale far too quickly for comfort (despite how he’d treated her), so what did that say about her?

Carla feared she couldn’t trust herself to know how she felt anymore. Gone was the carefree woman who had been happy to have fun and not allow any man to touch her heart, and Carla missed her. She’d known where she was with that version of herself. She’d vaguely recognised the version who had thought she’d fallen in love with Yale, but this more sombre, serious Carla, who had developed a sneaking enjoyment of the countryside and a love of photography, was a complete stranger.

And she hadn’t even begun to pick apart her growing feelings for Ashton.

She couldn’t think about that now though, because they were nearing the outskirts of Leeds and heading for a place called Morley, just off the M62. After negotiating a tangled mess of a junction, Carla was glad to leave the motorway behind.

‘Not far now,’ Ashton said. The car’s satnav was a godsend, and within a few minutes it had directed them to their destination.

Carla levered her stiff body out of the car. ‘That was one hell of a journey. This had better be worth it. If Anita Campbell has led us on a wild goose chase, I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

‘I think I’ve aged ten years,’ Ashton groaned. ‘When I looked up the route online, it reckoned it should take around three and a half hours, not five. Thank goodness we set out in plenty of time, otherwise we would be late. I’m not looking forward to the drive back.’

‘I bet you’re wishing you hadn’t offered.’

He looked her in the eye. ‘Not at all.’

She met his gaze and held it, feeling a shiver travel down her back. Then she looked away. She’d unpick that later; right now, she needed to focus.

They were twenty minutes early, so Carla didn’t expect Anita to be there yet. After making enquiries with a member of staff in the pub where they’d agreed to meet, Carla was directed to a table. A woman was already seated there, a glass of what looked like orange juice in front of her, alongside a cardboard document wallet.

Carla took a moment to study her. She was a pretty redhead, with curling locks, freckles, and the most gorgeous green eyes. Nothing like Carla, or Yale’s fiancée. It appeared the man didn’t have a type, unless gullible could be called a type.

‘Anita?’ Carla asked hesitantly.

‘You must be Carla.’ Anita gave Ashton a doubtful look, as though she hadn’t expected Carla to have brought anyone with her.

‘This is Ashton. He drove me here.’

Anita indicated they should sit, and once they were settled she pushed the document wallet across the table. ‘This is why I wanted to speak to you in person,’ she said.

‘What is it?’ Carla opened the envelope flap and slid out a sheaf of papers.

‘Messages between me and Yale.’ Anita spat out his name. ‘He denied he sent them, and he even deleted his side of the conversation so there would be no record. But I’d taken screenshots.’

Carla was perplexed. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘I had a stalker a few years ago, and now I always screenshot anything that can disappear, just in case.’ Her tone was matter-of-fact.

Carla flicked through them, scanning them quickly. Oh, my…

Anita said, ‘I could have emailed them to you, but I wanted to meet you in person. I can’t believe he did it again. I heard he took it further and reported you to HR. What a snake.’

Carla told her the full story, and Anita nodded along. When she’d finished speaking, Anita asked, ‘What does his fiancée look like?’

‘Tall, thin, dressed to the nines, with bouncy blonde hair. Expensive looking.’

‘That’s the woman he cheated on when he was with me, but she was his girlfriend then, not his fiancée. Her father is really well off. I mean, really. He’s just started a new venture in Birmingham, something to do with luxury cars.’

‘Is that why Yale transferred to the Birmingham office from Leeds?’

‘I expect so.’

‘He’s a fool to be playing around,’ Carla said.

‘He’s an arrogant so-and-so. I think he honestly believes he isn’t going to get caught.’

‘And even when he does, he comes out of it smelling of roses.’ Carla was incensed.

Anita tapped the folder. ‘I left the company of my own accord without a fuss, because I couldn’t face the fallout.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I loved him so much, and he broke my heart.’ She blinked furiously. ‘I wish I hadn’t let him walk all over me. I wish I’d stayed and fought, but I didn’t have it in me. Not then. I’m not sure I do now, to be honest. But I think you do.’

Carla nodded slowly. ‘You’re right, I do.’ However, she wasn’t sure whether the contents of this folder or what Anita had told her would be enough.

Anita said sombrely, ‘Look at the last couple of printouts.’

Carla did. They weren’t screenshots of messages and neither were they emails or photographs. They were transcripts of phone conversations. And what they said made Carla’s blood boil. Yale really was a nasty piece of work.

‘Are these verbatim?’ she asked.

‘They are.’

‘You could have made all this up. I know you didn’t,’ she added hastily, ‘but that’s what they will say.’

‘I expect they will, if that was all there is.’ There was steel in Anita’s eyes. ‘I recorded both conversations. I know what he did to me isn’t exactly the same as what he did to you, but it’s close enough. He won’t have a leg to stand on!’

Carla felt exhausted as she and Ashton returned to his car later that afternoon.

Anita had left shortly after her revelation, promising to keep in touch, so Carla and Ashton had decided to grab something to eat before tackling the long drive back to Picklewick. It had taken nearly five hours to get to Leeds, due to traffic and roadworks along several lengths of the motorways, and there was no reason to think the return journey would be any less fraught.

Carla was shattered, and she wasn’t the one who would be doing the driving! Poor Ashton must be seriously regretting accompanying her today. It was a pity they couldn’t break the journey—

She slapped a hand to her forehead. Of course! ‘I’ve got an idea,’ she said. ‘We could come off the motorway at Birmingham and stay the night at my house.’ Then she felt a fool for mentioning it, as she remembered something. ‘Oh, but you can’t – you’ve got work tomorrow.’

Ashton’s smile was more of a smirk. ‘Actually, I don’t. I arranged to have tomorrow off because I knew today would be a long day.’

Carla was touched that he’d gone to all that trouble. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. You’d do the same for me.’

She was surprised to realise that she would. ‘Does that mean you’re happy to break the journey at mine?’

‘I don’t see why not. I must admit, I wasn’t looking forward to driving back this afternoon. Anyway, I’ve never been to Birmingham.’

‘Do you want to go out on the town this evening?’ Carla hoped not. It was the last thing she was in the mood for.

‘What? Not on your life! I was hoping to see an urban fox.’

Carla might have known, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. ‘Pity you didn’t bring your camera.’

‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘I didn’t think I’d need it.’

‘I don’t think you’ll need it tonight, either. I’ve never seen a fox on my street.’

‘Have you looked for one?’

‘Not really.’

He gave her a ‘well, then,’ look.

She said, ‘Are you sure I can’t tempt you to go for a drink down my local?’

‘Oh, go on then, you’ve twisted my arm.’

‘Were you having me on about wanting to see a fox?

His face creased into a smile, his profile showing her one of his gorgeous dimples. ‘Only a bit. A pie and a pint will go down a treat.’

‘You’ve just eaten,’ she pointed out.

‘And I’ll want to eat again before I go to bed. My job means I’m on my feet for a lot of the day.’ He tapped his flat stomach. ‘I need the calories.’

Carla barely heard that last bit. She’d zeroed in on the word ‘bed’ and it abruptly struck her that she would be alone in the house with a man she found seriously attractive and a thoroughly nice guy. And he would be sleeping in the bedroom next to hers.

Maybe, given how fast her heart was beating at the thought and how dry her mouth had suddenly become, suggesting he stayed the night at her place wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.

By the time they’d exited the motorway at Birmingham, Ashton was more than ready to ditch the car and stretch his legs. He wasn’t used to sitting in one position for this long, or being so sedentary, and his back was in half. To add to his woes, his neck was stiff, his shoulders were aching, and his eyes felt gritty from focusing so hard.

The return journey had been twice as bad, with even more traffic to contend with, and he’d seen more near misses in one day than he’d witnessed in a year in Thornbury.

Carla guided him through the unfamiliar one-way system, and when she finally instructed him to pull onto a driveway outside a semi-detached 1930s house in a leafy suburb, he sighed in relief.

Ashton got out of the car, groaning as his muscles protested, and looked around. ‘Is there a shop nearby?’ he asked, wishing he had suggested they push on, rather than agreeing to break the journey. He wasn’t exactly prepared for an overnight stay. ‘I need a toothbrush.’

Carla unlocked the front door, bending down to pick up a wad of post and giving him a view of her shapely behind. He swallowed and looked away.

‘There are new toothbrushes in the bathroom,’ she told him, flicking through the letters and flyers. She paused, and her face paled. Then she held up an envelope sporting a logo he recognised as belonging to a large insurance company. ‘It’s from work,’ she said. ‘And it sure as hell isn’t a renewal quote.’

He followed her inside, noting her automatic actions as she draped her bag over the newel post and kicked off her shoes in the hall. He wondered whether he should follow suit but became distracted by her cute bare feet with their apricot-painted toenails.

She tore the envelope open. ‘Would you like a cup of tea or coffee? Blast, there won’t be any fresh milk.’

‘Would you like me to pop out and fetch some?’ he offered, thinking she might want some time alone to read the letter.

‘Only if you want tea,’ she replied absently, her eyes on the letter. ‘There’s creamer for coffee. Or wine. I’m deffo having wine.’ She blew out her cheeks and waved the letter. ‘I’ve got a date for my meeting with HR.’

‘When?’

‘Two weeks Friday.’ She threw it onto the worktop and opened the fridge. Ashton saw there wasn’t a lot in there, but there were two bottles of red. ‘The glasses are in that cupboard,’ she said, jerking her chin as she unscrewed the top of one of them.

He took two out and set them down. ‘Isn’t it good news that you have a date?’

She gulped her wine, drinking half of it in one go. ‘I’m scared.’

‘I expect you are. I would be, too. The prospect of being sacked can’t be pleasant, but at least you’ll know one way or the other. And from what Anita said, you probably won’t be sacked, but he might. You’ll be back at your desk in no time.’

Another gulp. Her glass was nearly empty.

Then Carla’s chin wobbled, and her eyes filled with tears.

Ashton put down his drink and held out his arms. He couldn’t do anything about her job situation, but he could give her his moral support. A cuddle mightn’t make anything better, but it certainly wouldn’t make it worse.

He held her for a long time, and the longer he held her the more reluctant he was to let her go. It felt so natural, so right to have her in his arms, her cheek against his shoulder, his face in her hair, and at that moment, Ashton realised he was in danger of losing his heart.