Heidi Rice - Summer At Willow Tree Farm - The Perfect Romantic Escape

‘But isn’t the whole purpose of the exercise to escape the real world?’ Ellie said.

‘Not any more.’ Dee looked pensive. ‘Nowadays we run it like a proper business. The original plan was to have everyone who lived here working here, but it was never viable, so we had to compromise.’ Her mother headed to the door. ‘By the way, Josh asked if he could come to Salisbury with me and Toto tomorrow to help on the stall if he wakes up in time. Would that be OK?’

‘Yes, of course,’ she said, then had a thought. ‘Could I come and help out on the stall too?’ It would be a way of paying her mother back for all her hard work in getting the rooms ready.

‘You don’t need to do that,’ Dee said. ‘You’re a guest here.’

‘I know, but I’d like to.’ Having her mother pamper her to within an inch of her life already felt awkward. And keeping busy was also a great way of avoiding the stuff she didn’t want to think about, like Dan and the divorce and her failed business… Not to mention Art Dalton and his unsettling effect on her.

‘Then, I’d love to have you there,’ her mother said. ‘If you’re sure?’

Ellie nodded. ‘Absolutely sure.’

After her mother had left the room, Ellie sat at the dresser to tuck into the plate of roasted vegetables and feta and aubergine lasagne. The salty cheese melted on her tongue.

Despite her face-plant in the woods, and the awkwardness with her mother, and Art, the nightmare she’d been fretting about on the journey here hadn’t completely materialised. Because Willow Tree Organic Farm and Co-Operative Housing Project was the polar opposite of the Rainbow Commune – give or take the odd death-trap treehouse.

She tore off a chunk of the home-made seedy bread roll beside her plate, and slathered on a layer of what looked like home-churned butter. She took a large bite and chewed, savouring the creamy taste, while trying not to savour the memory of Art’s tattooed biceps rounding out the sleeve of his oil-stained overalls and that enticing shadow of chest hair.

So what if Art had unsettled her. And she’d made a bit of a tit of herself by collapsing in the woods.

It was just an inevitable by-product of all the stress she’d been bingeing on for weeks.

Once she’d had a couple of days to get her bearings, and establish a comfortable distance with her mother, she’d be totally immune to Art again, and his half-arsed compliments and his sexy scent.

Whatever happened, Princess Drama would not be popping out to take another bow.

The following morning, Dee drifted towards consciousness, her body floating in that tempting half-space between sleep and waking when she couldn’t feel all the aches and niggling pains of being a woman approaching sixty. She held on tight to her dream state, feeling Pammy’s arms around her midriff, snuggled up against her back, the way they’d woken every morning for years in the big tester bed Art had made for them. She clung on to Pammy’s scent, the seductive combination of lemon verbena and tea tree oil. But then consciousness crowded in on her, and the small dresser beside the bed came into focus.

Pammy’s keys, her purse and the hairbands she took out just before going to bed each evening were still gone, replaced by the novel Dee had been reading the night before to take her mind off all the thoughts that kept circling in her brain about Ellie’s return.

The scent of lemon verbena disappeared, overwhelmed by the scent of the lavender laundry detergent she’d used on the sheets the day before. And the echo of Pammy’s off-key whistle – as she showered and got ready to head down to the office and start filing and ordering and doing all those mysterious tasks that Dee had never bothered to know about – faded into silence.

Pammy, I need you here, so much.

Grief hit Dee like a punch to the stomach as she let the miserable memories in: the endless, tedious waits in uncomfortable hospital chairs; Pammy’s once vibrant red hair falling out in clumps as she brushed it one morning; and those miserable final days of standing over her partner’s bed in Magnolia Ward and willing the woman she no longer recognised to die, so she could be without pain.

Dee rolled over, the clutching pain accompanied by the dull ache in the middle of her back caused by a day spent cooking to welcome Ellie home.

Except this wasn’t Ellie’s home, and whatever Dee had been hoping for – that Ellie’s decision to come visit meant she was eager to try to build a new relationship – seemed even further out of reach now than it had been four years ago when Pam had found an email address for Ellie’s event-planning business and suggested contacting her in America.

Ellie and she didn’t know each other. And four years of Christmas cards and polite emails and handmade gifts, and a fevered attempt to bribe her way into her daughter’s affections with fresh paint and newly made gingham curtains wasn’t going to change that. Or absolve Dee of her selfishness that summer, when she’d chosen her lover over her daughter.

She couldn’t regret that choice, because she had loved Pam so much. But ever since she’d lost Pam, she’d imagined winning Ellie back. And now she could see exactly how selfish that was too. Especially now she suspected the reasons Ellie had come to visit had nothing to do with her.

Why had her daughter been so exhausted when she’d arrived? She looked as if she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. And why hadn’t she mentioned her husband, Josh’s father? Why hadn’t he come with them?

Oh, Pammy, what if we were wrong about this? What if Ellie’s never ready to forgive me? What if I’m not even ready to forgive myself?

Dee breathed, waiting for the sting behind her eyelids to subside, before pulling back the bedclothes and padding to the bathroom. After getting dressed, she went to wake Ellie, but her gentle tap received no answer.

Feeling like an intruder, she pushed open the door, and saw her daughter curled in the bed, so sound asleep she reminded Dee of the little girl she’d once known, and had invested so much in.

Dee’s heart expanded, with yearning and emptiness, but then she closed the door behind her. She had to make sure she didn’t do that again – expect her daughter to fill the gaps in her own life. If Ellie was only here because she was running away from something then Dee could provide a safe haven. No questions asked. After all, Dee knew exactly what it was like to be so desperately unhappy that running away seemed like the only option.

*

Ellie woke up with a start, to discover that she’d overslept. It was nearly noon.

Was her mother still here? Or had she left for Salisbury already? Ellie showered, feeling better rested than she had in weeks. Months even. She’d help herself to breakfast and then head into Salisbury. She had a vague idea where the main square was, hopefully the market would be there.

She could smell the yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread as she headed down the stairs, but jerked to a stop as she entered the farmhouse kitchen.

Heat swept through her system, making her feel like a voyeur, but she could not detach her gaze from the sight in front of her.

Wow, hotness alert.

The young couple she had met the day before were bent over the sink in an embrace that, even though they were both fully clothed, looked pretty close to requiring birth control.

The guy’s hands were kneading the girl’s backside, while her leg was hooked round his hip and her hands were fisted in his hair as if she were about to launch herself up his torso. Their lips were achieving the sort of suction that would impress a vacuum cleaner convention.