Summer at Lavender Bay. Sarah Bennett
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then bent to brush a quick kiss on her cheek. ‘It’s fine, Mum. You did the right thing. Thanks for the coffee, and for seeing to Noah.’
Sally took the mug from his hand. ‘Give me that. Go and have your shower. I’ll rustle you up a bacon sandwich and a thermos to take out with you, and then I’ll get Noah off to school…’ She paused by the door. ‘…Or he can stay home for a few days? I can make sure he keeps up with everything.’ The hope in her voice was enough to break his heart. She’d given up her career as a university lecturer to pursue a dream of raising her sons away from the rampant consumerism of modern life. Having missed so much of their growing up thanks to long hours spent climbing the corporate ladder, their father had been in wholehearted agreement at his wife’s decision to home-school both Jack and Jason. Their lessons had been scheduled to fit around working life on the farm and had involved as much about life as they did the curriculum.
The isolation had never bothered Jack. After being a latchkey kid, he’d been thrilled to have so much of his parents’ attention, but it had been another thorn in Jason’s side and something he’d been determined not to repeat with his own son. Feeling torn between honouring his brother’s wishes and the naked need in his mother’s eyes, Jack clenched his fist against his thigh. ‘I think it’s important to keep Noah to his regular routine, don’t you?’
She flinched as though he’d struck her, before fixing on a bright smile that failed to get anywhere near her eyes. ‘You’re right, of course. I’m just being overly sentimental. The last thing he needs is me fussing all over him.’
This was his life now, it seemed—hurting one person in order to honour his promise to another. Ignoring the stab of guilt in his heart, Jack faked his own smile. ‘You can fuss over me anytime, Mum.’
‘Get on with yourself.’ She shooed him towards the bathroom, her smile genuine this time, much to Jack’s relief.
True to her word, there was a foil-wrapped package and a thermos waiting on the kitchen table for him, together with a large water bottle, an apple and a banana. Jack finished rolling back the cuffs on the old checked shirt he’d slung over jeans and a T-shirt, then scooped up the food and drink to stow it in the rucksack he used to cart his bits and pieces around. Exiting the kitchen via the boot room, he stomped his feet into his work boots, tied the laces and headed out the back door.
Jack stowed his bag in the front of the sky-blue compact tractor parked in the yard, then pulled out the safety checklist book from beneath the seat. Their dad had been fanatical about safety, and his sons had carried on in the same tradition.
Nothing moved until it had been checked, even on days like this when Jack was running behind schedule. Satisfied the flat-bed trailer behind the tractor was hitched correctly, he circled both trailer and tractor, checking the tyres as well as the general condition of the bodywork. The engine came next—oil and fluid levels, connections, belts and hoses were all surveyed for wear. Last came the cab where everything was in order, well, once he’d cleaned the mirrors and wiped a layer of dust from the inside of the front window.
The greenhouse lay beyond the main farmhouse on the other side of the distillery, next to an old farmworker’s cottage. Jack trundled out of the yard, pausing to check the driveway in front of the house was clear before he ventured further. Their old battered Land Rover was nowhere to be seen, so the school run was already underway. Confident he could move around without risk to anyone else, Jack followed the driveway to his destination. Pulling up outside the cottage, Jack made a mental note to track down the keys for the place and have a nose around.
He and Jason had used it as a hideaway when they’d been kids, but it had been empty for a long time. His mum had talked about moving in there—said she wanted her own space away from all the testosterone in the farmhouse. Only they’d lost Jason, and she’d put her plans on hold to help Jack. Perhaps it was time for him to pick up the slack. Noah wasn’t the only one who would benefit from sticking to a routine. It was time to stop fire-fighting and accept the new status quo. The farm was his responsibility now and so was Noah. If he could get the cottage into a habitable state it would give his mum the space she craved whilst giving Jack room to breathe. He knew she only wanted what was best for them all, but if she kept making decisions about Noah without consulting him they could end up on a collision course.
A waft of warm air greeted him as he tugged open the greenhouse door. After propping it open, he dropped the tailgate of the trailer and began to transfer the first row of black plastic pots from the greenhouse. He’d taken the cuttings from the previous year’s new plants, a process they followed annually to ensure they preserved the quality and consistency of their crop. Although small now, the plants would spread and thrive within just a few short weeks, filling the air with their distinctive heady perfume.
Half an hour later the trailer was full, and so was his stomach thanks to the sandwich and a mug of hot tea. The steady work had warmed his muscles, so he paused to strip off the checked shirt before heading up to the south field. It would be a back-breaking day, and as he jolted along the trackway, he was already promising himself a long soak in the bath at the end of it.
He got the last of the plants in just as the sun was going down, his back screaming in protest as he bent over one last time to tamp down the sandy soil around the bush. With a groan, he gathered the empty plant pot and stowed it with the others in the trailer. Heaving himself into the cab of the tractor, Jack switched on the lights and chugged his way back down to the sprawl of buildings that were the heart of the farm.
Parking the tractor in the rear yard, he grabbed his bag and headed for the back door. The pots and trailer would both need washing out, but that would be a job for the morning. Bending to unlace his boots elicited another groan, and he all but hobbled into the kitchen to find his mum and Noah sitting at the kitchen table, a book held between them. The scent of something delicious rose from a large pot on the top of the Aga.
‘All finished?’ his mum asked as he paused at the sink to wash his hands.
He nodded. ‘Just about. I’ll need to take the water truck up there tomorrow, and give them a soak, but then it’s done. Have you guys eaten?’
She shook her head. ‘Noah wanted to wait for you, didn’t you, poppet?’ She stroked her grandson’s cheek as he tilted his head to glance up at Jack.
There goes my dream of a soak in the bath. ‘I’d better jump in the shower, then. Five minutes, all right?’
Sally pushed to her feet. ‘No rush, love. I need to put the bread in to warm, yet. We’re having Irish stew.’
His eyes practically rolled back in his head. Part of his parents’ back-to-nature kick had been cooking everything from scratch. No more Pot Noodles or takeaway pizzas for the Gilbert family—something else Jason had resented when they’d first moved down to the bay. Jack had pretended to be miffed in an act of brotherly solidarity, but he’d loved every meal his mum or dad had placed in front of him, even the burnt ones. ‘Sounds heavenly. I’ll be right back to set the table.’
True to his word, he was showered, changed into tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt and back in the kitchen in a flash. The heat from the power shower had done wonders for his stiff back, and he moved around freely, laying out mats, cutlery and glasses as he chatted to Noah about his day at school.
‘I got a smiley in my book today,’ his nephew said with a shy smile. He’d never had to know much about Noah’s schooling whilst Jason was around, other than pitching in with the school run, so he was still getting to grips with how it all worked.
When he cast an enquiring glance towards his mum, she said, ‘Noah stayed behind at break time to help his teacher clear up.’
‘We did painting. I put all the brushes in the big sink and put the paints in the cupboard after Miss Daniels put the lids on them.’
‘That’s great, buddy. I bet she was glad to have you help her.’ Jack held up his palm. ‘Give me five.’ Noah patted his little hand against Jack’s, practically glowing with the praise.
‘And he helped me to make dinner, didn’t