A Taste of Home

more than up to it.’
‘Fancy yourself as a bit of a fruit farmer, do you?’ he smiled through his tears.
‘I do have a certain amount of experience in the field,’ I smiled back.
‘In that case,’ he said, with a wobbly smile, ‘I think both Fenview Farm and I are in very safe hands.’

Chapter 9
A downturn in the weather put the brakes on me starting any work on the farm for the next few days. Not that I had ever been a fair-weather worker, but according to the forecast it was going to be reasonably short-lived and wouldn’t hamper me for too long, and therefore I took the opportunity to sort a few things in the house and spend some quality time with Grandad instead. We had soon got the measure of the stairs and having safely made the first ascent we were, if not quite zipping up and down, then gathering pace.
Grandad hadn’t shared the details of what Mum had put in her letter and obviously I wasn’t going to ask, but he seemed soothed by it and even though we both shed more tears after he had read it, they weren’t as intense as those that had previously fallen.
Before I’d experienced it for myself, I had no idea that grief was so draining and all consuming, but I was beginning to understand what Louise had meant when she had told me it becomes a part of you. The pain of losing Mum was still prevalent, still very much in evidence, but the ache had dulled a little.
Grandad and I didn’t go in for heart to heart conversations, but rather quietly felt our way, often focusing on the comfort of domestic tasks, eating the delicious Italian dishes I had already prepared and always with the windows thrown open. The gentle pitter patter of rain which formed the backdrop to the next few days was like a soothing ASMR soundtrack and I was comforted by it as I settled into the house.
The only thing missing was Eliot but he had telephoned, in lieu of not making it back to the farm thanks to the continuing staff shortage, which he assured me was genuine in spite of what Louise had said. He promised he would visit again soon and was happy that Grandad was in safe hands, even if he wasn’t feeling quite so content about other things.
‘I feel as though I’m failing you, Fliss,’ was the first thing he said when Grandad handed the phone over one day. ‘I told you I’d be there for you and Bill and now I’m not.’
‘It’s fine,’ I told him and I meant it. ‘I think it’s good for Grandad and I to have this time to ourselves to readjust and now we’ve decided that I’m going to be here for a while, there’s going to be plenty of time for you to be my friend in the weeks to come.’
He brightened at that and I found myself again wishing that we could be more than friends. That pesky spark refused to remain extinguished and I was constantly on the lookout for further distraction to stop it catching my eye.
‘You know what,’ Grandad said, after a few nights back in his own bed. ‘I feel like a new man. It’s been weeks since I had such a good sleep. I know it’s going to take me a while to get to grips with what’s happened to my Jennifer, but at least now I know, don’t I? There’s no more wondering and wishing.’
‘That’s very true,’ I agreed.
‘And there was comfort in that letter she wrote,’ he sniffed, confirming my thoughts. ‘I thought she’d gone through life hating me, but she hadn’t at all.’
I couldn’t help wishing that Mum had had the sense to tell him that years ago, but there was no point in feeling bitter. It wouldn’t change the past and we needed to focus on the future. It was reassuring to know that Grandad could move forward with his life with the blanks now filled in. It must have been so difficult to cope and carry on with that great big gap always nagging away in the background.
‘I’m so pleased it’s helped,’ I said, looking at him properly and feeling relieved that I had decided to come to Fenview Farm, rather than pretend I’d never read any of what Mum had written to me.
He looked so much better for the combination of reading Mum’s final words and the undisturbed rest. Nothing like the dazed and confused old man I had upset just a few days before, and I was feeling happier too. I had enjoyed putting the dining room back in order and getting to know the house. Although, that said, the brief peek I had taken into Mum’s old room had come as a shock.
I hadn’t gone right inside but I hadn’t needed to to see that the place was a shrine. From the arrangement on the dressing table to the posters on the walls, I knew it was exactly as Mum had left it and a lump had formed in my throat as I thought of Grandad carefully tending and dusting, perhaps dreaming of her return to the fold. I knew we would need to talk about what to do with it at some point, but not yet.
‘The forecast looks set to improve by the weekend,’ Grandad said as I cleared our lunch dishes away.
I had been thrilled when he told me he was very much enjoying having his menu expanded and he certainly always looked replete. He had eagerly finished up every dish I had served as a result of my spree in the Wynbridge deli. I’d cooked spaghetti with rich tomato sauce that day and he’d mopped up every trace with a crust of garlic enhanced bread.
‘Thank goodness for that,’ I said, peering out the door. ‘I’m getting desperate to know the outside of Fenview Farm as well as the inside.’
Grandad looked pleased.
‘Good,’ he smiled. ‘Our little