Phillipa Ashley - Spring on the Little Cornish Isles - The Flower Farm

Jess had a sneaking admiration for her or anyone who was willing to give up a comfortable life in a lively city like Cambridge for a remote place like Scilly. But she wasn’t convinced that a desire for ‘a quiet life’ and a love of flowers was the whole reason for Gaby’s decision to abandon Cambridge and head all the way out here.

Twenty minutes later, Adam threw the rope around the bollard on the small quay at St Saviour’s and secured it to the cleat. Jess helped Gaby off the boat and up the steps with her bag. The quay rose out of a small rocky outcrop at the bottom of the island road. Deeper water lapped one side, while the other looked out over creamy sand, currently covered in a foot or so of translucent peppermint sea.

Gaby looked around her and shook her head in wonder. ‘Wow. It’s so beautiful. I’ve seen pictures on your website of course, but I hadn’t imagined the real thing would be anything like this. It’s still England, but as if England were set in the Greek islands.’

Jess followed Gaby’s gaze towards the long sweep of white sand that ran half the length of the island and the myriad rocky skerries dozing in the lagoon between the main isles. St Saviour’s, like Gull Island and its neighbour Petroc, were all clustered around the shallow ‘pool’ with only lonely St Piran’s lying to the west across a deep-water channel.

‘It is lovely on a day like this,’ she said, quietly proud of her home.

‘Not so lovely when you’re trying to get the mail delivered in a howling gale or when the fog drops down,’ said Adam.

Gaby turned to him in surprise. ‘Oh, you’re a postman, then?’

‘Yes. I deliver the smaller islands’ mail.’

‘You must have the best post round in Britain.’

He grinned. ‘You can say that again.’

Jess squeezed his hand behind Gaby’s back. ‘Better get going. Will’s going to be … um … eager to welcome you too.’ She mentally crossed her fingers that her brother was in. ‘We can walk to the farm from here.’

Despite Gaby’s protests, Adam carried her case and the shopping. Jess had given up trying to stop him long ago. She took the chance to chat to Gaby as they trudged up the slope from the quay and onto the road that ran along the spine of the island.

With Adam a few feet ahead, Jess slowed her pace to allow Gaby to take in her surroundings. She stared out over the Atlantic and spoke softly, almost reverently.

‘I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely seas and the sky

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.’

Jess waited, a little taken aback.

Gaby turned towards her with a smile. ‘Sorry, couldn’t resist. That’s from Sea Fever by John Masefield. Do you know it?’

‘I think I might have heard of it but I’m not that great on poetry to be honest,’ Jess replied, quietly amused and also, if she was honest, thinking the lines were very apt for the way she often felt about the spectacular spot she lived in: drawn to the sea.

‘The view is incredible,’ said Gaby, echoing Jess’s own thoughts.

‘Yes, you practically see most of Scilly from up here and Land’s End too on a clear day. Look, there it is.’ Jess pointed out a shadowy but unmistakable hunk of land on the horizon to the east.

‘Wow,’ said Gaby. ‘Exactly how far is it?’

‘Twenty-eight miles, though it may as well be Canada on some days. The fog can roll in and you can’t see the sea at all, let alone the mainland,’ said Adam, waiting for them.

‘Wow. That must feel like being cast adrift in the middle of the ocean.’

Jess felt a quiet sense of pride in Gaby’s awe. ‘It can be but on days like this, it’s gorgeous. And actually, we’re here.’

‘Wow.’

Jess hid a smile as Gaby gazed at the five-bar gate set in a high hedgerow. A wooden sign was fixed on the front of the bars.

St Saviour’s Flower Farm

A, J & W Godrevy

The sign had been replaced once already since Jess’s father, Roger, had left the family home to live with a younger woman, fifteen years previously. Their mother, Anna, had insisted on having his initials erased and a fresh plaque put up showing her children as joint owners. However, the ‘new’ one needed repainting again, as the names were fading under the onslaught of wind, rain and salt. Olive lichen had started to crawl slowly over the ragged edges of the wood, but it was so familiar that Jess didn’t even see it these days. It was only because Gaby paused to examine it that Jess noticed it at all. One more job to add to the maintenance list, though being non-urgent, it probably wouldn’t get done at all until it dropped off.

‘Come on,’ said Jess, smiling inwardly at the impact her home and business was having on Gaby.

She pushed open the gate, letting Gaby go ahead of her. Adam closed it behind them and followed them both in while Gaby scanned the house, outbuildings and fields with sharp-eyed wonder.

The rambling farmhouse where Jess and Will lived with Anna was set back from the road behind a large concrete yard. Jess and Will had no choice but to take over the running of the place while they were still barely out of their teens. Their father had left the farm’s finances in a perilous state, but gradually Jess and Will had pulled it back from the brink and developed it into the thriving business that Gaby was now taking in.

‘The high hedges are there to protect the flowers, aren’t they?’ she asked Jess.

‘Yes, they spare the crops from the worst of the winds we get in the winter. The office is over here. You never know, Will might even be in there.’

‘While you introduce Gaby to Will, do you mind if I check out the Athene ?’ said Adam. ‘I want to see how the renovation’s coming along. I reckon it’ll be ready for some trials after Christmas if we all pull our fingers out.’

Jess rolled her eyes. ‘That’s optimistic. It still needs a lot of work.’

He smiled. ‘We’ll get there. I won’t be long.’

‘OK,’ said Jess, amused at his enthusiasm for a half-built boat.

After Adam had left, she led the way to the office, chatting to Gaby along the way. ‘The Athene ’s a vintage rowing boat – though we actually call them gigs. Will and Adam are hoping to restore it to its full glory,’ she explained.

‘Sounds exciting. Do you row?’

‘I’ve no choice,’ Jess laughed. ‘Most of us do. I’m in the St Saviour’s Women’s crew, but we don’t take it as seriously as some. What about you?’ She eyed the diminutive figure of Gaby.

‘No way. I did try out for cox once and crashed the Third Eight into the bank. Did a lot of damage. They haven’t asked me back again.’ She grinned. ‘Worked a treat.’

Jess laughed.

As she guided Gaby towards the office, Jess’s thoughts were on her new employee but also partly on the sign at the gate. Even fifteen years on, Jess had mixed feelings about their father: she still loved him, as did Will, even though they hadn’t seen him for several years and their brief phone conversations with him were usually tense.

She and Will were twins, and having grown up so closely, they had a strong bond even if they didn’t always see eye to eye about the farm. Jess was the steady hand on the tiller: calm, practical and ready to pour oil on troubled waters. She oversaw the business side of things, dealing with suppliers and the bigger customer accounts that required tact and diplomacy.

Will worked every bit as hard as her but his forte lay with the horticultural side of the business. He knew everything about coaxing the different varieties into bloom at exactly the right moment. Storms, fog and even the occasional frost didn’t faze him, but he could be impatient and prone to gloomy moods.