Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: The Flower Farm

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She grinned. ‘Come on then. Let’s get on with it before this lot is already in bloom.’

The local pointed to the nearest field. ‘That’s the field we’re doing?’ he asked incredulously.

‘What? All of it?’ a skinny guy with a Scottish accent asked. He was called Robbie, appropriately enough, thought Gaby, resisting the urge to quote Burns. That really would freak everyone out.

‘Yes. It’s perfectly doable before the end of the day. Even for beginners,’ Gaby added with a touch of sarcasm. Len would have been proud. Will must have carefully calculated exactly what the novice team could pick in the time allotted. So, she was damn well going to get it done, no matter how much they moaned.

Without giving them any more time to revolt, she marched them to the field, setting to with gusto and hoping to lead by example. However, it was frustrating work as she had to break off every few minutes to correct someone’s technique or answer questions about whether the bloom was at the right stage. Normally, Len drove the quad bike full of crates back to the packing shed, but Gaby had to do it herself, which meant she had to leave her team for minutes at a time and wait while the crates were unloaded at the packing shed and collect empty ones.

By lunchtime, they’d only done a third of the field, but everyone, including Gaby, was desperate for a break and there was no way she would expect anyone to work through.

The moment lunchtime was over, Gaby led her crew back to the field, trying to work at double the rate. Ignoring her aching back, burning arms and sore fingers, she did her best to make up the difference. Her team were more experienced now; even though they were tired, they’d had a morning’s practice and there were less interruptions. The general manager, Lawrence did her a favour by collecting some of the full crates on the quad bike and bringing empty ones back when he could spare a few minutes from the office.

By mid-afternoon, Gaby was starting to think they would come close to finishing the job but not quite. Her heart sank. She’d wanted to get it done, and show Anna, Len and Will that she could do it – and mostly, she relished the challenge. She had a feeling that Will wouldn’t be disappointed if she didn’t. Perhaps, he never really expected it, but for her own satisfaction, Gaby wanted to do it. Bizarrely, she also had the idea that she needed to do it for Stevie. There was no rational reason for this, although the analytical part of her brain suggested it was probably another way of coping with her emotions on a difficult day. It was certainly a way to keep busy and ensure she went to bed completely knackered.

The sun started to sink lower and, with it, the spirits and rate of the novices dropped significantly. They were all shattered and frequently standing up to stretch or moan, or both. Gaby knew how they felt. She was ready to drop and she knew they’d be stiff and aching for days until they got used to the constant stooping and the sore fingers.

She checked her watch. Arghh. There was only twenty minutes to go before she had to let everyone clock off.

‘Come on. Not long. One more push!’ she shouted, but knowing that they were very unlikely to finish the field now.

Most, but not all the workers, made a final effort, but what seemed like mere moments later, Gaby’s alarm went off.

With a sigh, she stood up, her fingers numb and stiff from the extra effort she’d made.

‘OK. That’s it. You’ll be pleased to know that’s the end of your first day. Thanks for your great work and see you tomorrow.’

In seconds, the field was empty, apart from Natalia who patted Gaby on the back. ‘Thanks.’

‘What for? Cracking the whip?’ Gaby was bemused.

‘For not being a horrible boss.’

Gaby laughed. ‘Thanks, but I’m not your boss. Will and Jess are.’

‘I met Jess. She seems OK. Quiet but nice. Fair. Will is hot.’ Natalia fanned herself extravagantly, then pulled a face. ‘But he also walks around like he has a thundercloud over his head. He needs a girlfriend.’ She grinned. ‘Or boyfriend?’

Gaby had to smile too, but she was horrified that Natalia had sussed out in a moment that Gaby fancied Will, and inside a light bulb had gone on. What if Will looked stressed out because he wanted a boyfriend? What if she’d misread the moments between them – or just imagined them – and Will was gay?

‘All Will cares about is getting these flowers picked,’ she said, and that at least was partly true.

‘We did our best,’ said Natalia, pulling off her gloves. ‘The rest of us will be here tomorrow. So will Len.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I’ve heard the others talking about him. I hope his sickness decides to stay with him for a while longer.’

Gaby stifled a laugh. She didn’t want Len to be ill and his bark was a lot worse than his bite, but his reputation for drilling the new workers like a platoon sergeant was fearsome and well-earned. ‘I doubt any bug would dare hang around Len for too long. I’m surprised that one’s dared to approach him in the first place.’

‘Hmm. I’m going for food in the common room. Then some of us should go to the pub. There is a pub here?’

‘Yes. The Gannet. It’s about ten minutes’ walk away. You go and get cleaned up. I need to drive these crates up to the sheds. Then maybe I’ll join you in the pub later if I haven’t fallen asleep in my room!’

This was more than likely, thought Gaby as she trudged back to the staff house after unloading a batch of crates. She was very tired but secretly happy, even though she hadn’t finished the whole field. She’d got the small team working well and encouraged them to keep going even when some looked like they wanted to chuck it all in. Maybe one or two would: she couldn’t help it if they decided they’d made a big mistake. All she could have done was try her best to complete the task for the day without too many disasters.

The quad bike wasn’t quite full. There were still a few empty crates. There was no point leaving them like that and it wouldn’t take long to pick a few more flowers and fill them. Gaby took a swig of cold coffee from her flask, finished off the chocolate bar in her bag and set to again.

Ouch. Even stopping for ten minutes made it hard to get going again, but she wanted at least to fill the crates. Half an hour later she drove the quad bike into the yard, laden with crates. Everyone had gone from the packing shed, so she took the crates into the fridge herself, almost toppling over with the weight of them. Then she went back to the bike.

With a sigh, she looked at the one corner of the field they’d not got round to, still with the flowers in bud at the perfect stage. They seemed to mock her, saying, ‘Pick me, pick me.’

It was five-thirty p.m. and the sun was hovering just above the horizon, the sea silvery in the early evening light. Although she’d been warm from the recent work, she’d been in and out of the fridge and now felt the evening chill. How long would it take, she thought, to finish that corner? How long before the Godrevys got back from the wedding on St Piran’s? It depended on the tides, and even though Will and Jess were perfectly capable of piloting their boat after dark, perhaps they might want to be back before then. That didn’t give her much time if she wanted to finish the job before Will’s return.

Gaby drove the quad to the top of the field and sat looking at the tiny patch in the corner that was bugging the heck out of her. It was like a compulsion: she had to finish the field for Stevie, even though he’d have laughed and told her to go down the pub.

Oh, sod it. She could virtually finish the field, have a lightning-quick shower and still show up at the Gannet. She climbed off the quad, picked up a crate and marched across the field.

Chapter 9 (#ulink_67a7234b-0188-574b-9524-aea3a7a4d17d)

Will and Jess tied up the boat and helped their mother onto the quay. It was around nine-thirty and the full moon had painted everything with a silvery sheen so you felt you could almost walk across its glittering path to the horizon.

Jess had swapped her heels for wellies and put on her waterproofs for the journey home from St Piran’s because the open sea between the islands was choppy. The evening party had ramped up another gear as the Godrevys and a few others had to leave because of the tides, but Jess wasn’t heartbroken to have an excuse to come home.

‘Well, I’m glad that’s over with. I’m knackered,’ said Will, walking beside his mother and Jess.

Anna snorted in derision. ‘Knackered? You’ve been to a wedding. This is your day off.’

‘Didn’t feel like it,’ said Will drily.

‘Well, I think it was a great do, but I’m glad to be back,’ said Jess, trying to smooth things over between Will and her mum. She’d enjoyed catching up with friends and family, but there had also been a lot of awkward questions about Adam. No, she hadn’t heard from him. Yes, he was in Cumbria with his family, as far as she knew. Will had also been interrogated, but not having been in love with Adam, he naturally found any questions easier to fend off.

‘Hmm. The flowers looked great, though I wasn’t sure about that qui-no thing they served with the salmon. What’s wrong with the good old-fashioned potatoes that we all grow in our own backyard? Funny wedding all round, if you ask me. Did you see Cousin Alison’s face when they said the vows? Looked like she’d swallowed a bottle of vinegar, but then she’s always been a sour-faced misery.’

‘I thought Maisie looked amazing,’ Jess cut in before her mum started on the bride’s dress which had been scarlet silk with a train that swept the floor. Jess had loved it, but her mother’s eyebrows had shot right up when the bridal party had entered the church. ‘Pregnancy suits her, even if she is only four months. I think the worst of the morning sickness is over and she looks great.’

‘Yes, she does. I’ll give you that,’ said Anna. ‘I still can’t get over what happened with that Australian though. Fancy lying about his past to us all.’

Anna was clearly referring to Maisie who had looked radiant on the arm of her new partner, Patrick, at the wedding reception. Before the two of them had finally got together, Patrick had kept a major secret from Maisie and when the truth had finally come out, it had caused a lot of trouble. Far from being a penniless barman, Patrick had been unmasked as Hugo Scorrier’s cousin, and was actually the wealthy owner of Petroc Island and resort. He’d had his own reasons for keeping this fact secret but the deception had hurt Maisie badly. However, he now appeared to have been largely forgiven by the community and most importantly, by Maisie. So while their relationship had started on very rocky foundations, they were crazy in love now. It reminded Jess that anything was possible and she could be happy again too …

‘Maisie and Patrick seem very happy now and I can’t wait to meet Little Sprog and be his or her godmother,’ said Jess.

Anna snorted. ‘Fancy naming a baby that.’

‘Oh, Mum. That’s only their nickname for the bump.’

‘I think it goes well with Maisie’s surname – Samson,’ Will piped up randomly. ‘And it’s better than Tarquin or Honey Boo Pie, or whatever the hell people call their kids these days.’