Foxglove Farm. Christie Barlow
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‘No-one important … After Fred, I hooked up with Greg for a while, but he was old before his time and then …’
‘I think I get the picture,’ cut in Isla in amazement.
‘It doesn’t matter how old you get, Isla … love isn’t guaranteed to run smoothly and that’s why I’m here …’
After this morning Isla knew that only too well. ‘To mend your broken heart?’
‘Far from it … I’m back because I miss my family … it’s been too long … and I can’t keep gallivanting all over the world … it’s time I settled back down, and where else is home?’
Isla’s eyes widened and she swallowed hard. It was tough enough looking after two small children, never mind a whirlwind of a granny who had more energy than all of them put together.
‘I knew you’d be happy and welcome me back with open arms. Just think of me as a babysitter on tap, isn’t that every new mum’s dream? … You won’t even know I’m here.’
Isla had her doubts and swung a glance towards Felicity, who gave her a forced sympathetic smile.
‘I’ve brought a few bits and pieces with me … they are in the car.’
Everyone took a swift glance towards the Union Jack-roofed mini parked outside. It was bursting at the seams with Martha’s belongings and it looked like her whole life was packed into the small car.
‘Gran, that looks more than a few bits and pieces.’ Isla felt herself physically slump. She’d already had quite a morning of it, and after the row with Drew she felt this was yet more pressure. Life was hard enough with two young children, a husband and a farm to run, and now there was another person thrown into the mix.
‘And I can’t wait to see Drew and Finn,’ said Martha, quickly swerving the conversation.
‘They will be pleased to see you, too,’ said Isla, stumbling over her words while taking a gurgling Angus back out of the pram. She gave him a cuddle while she mixed the milk powder with water in his baby bottle and fastened his bib around his neck.
‘He is just adorable,’ Martha gave her granddaughter such a huge smile and Isla felt a little guilty for not sounding more welcoming, but things were tough at the moment and the argument with Drew was still fresh in her mind.
‘Would you like one of these,’ asked Martha, rustling in her pocket, whipping out a Werther’s Original and waving it in front of Angus.
‘Gran! He can’t eat one of those … what are you thinking?’
Martha chuckled, ‘Relax! I was joking. As if I’d offer a tiny baby such a thing.’
Isla exhaled with relief.
‘I think strong coffee is needed all round,’ suggested Felicity. ‘And you’ve not finished your breakfast,’ she added, looking at Isla.
In the last few minutes Isla had completely lost her appetite. This wasn’t the start to her day she’d anticipated, but as there was no such thing as a time machine, she would have to get through the best she could.
‘You need to keep up your strength,’ Martha’s bony fingers wrapped around Isla’s arm, ‘there’s no meat on those bones, and what’s with the hair?’
Isla’s hair was scraped back into a simple, easy-to-manage ponytail and she hadn’t applied any make-up for weeks. Isla knew that since Angus was born she’d let herself go a little but she didn’t need anyone reminding her of it, especially in public. But what was the point of having a full face of make-up and immaculate hair? Who was she trying to impress? As Isla thought about what her grandmother had just said, a slight niggle loomed inside her. Might this be the real cause of Drew’s anger? Maybe he didn’t find her attractive anymore. But immediately she knew she was being ridiculous; Drew had seen her at her worst and it wasn’t as though he was dolled up to the nines every day in his dung-stained overalls.
‘Any more compliments you fancy dishing out, Gran?’
Martha ignored her sarcastic tone.
‘It’s a good job I arrived back when I did.’
Isla wasn’t one hundred percent convinced.
Polly Cook huffed and puffed her way up Love Heart Lane towards the teashop, welcoming the light breeze sweeping through her hair. There hadn’t been many hills to climb in London, and the only exercise she ever got there had been walking down the stairs to the cellar to change a barrel in the Chatty Banker, the pub she’d managed up until a week ago before she’d descended on Felicity. Or the 193 steps at Covent Garden tube station.
Everyone looked up as Polly pushed open the door to the teashop.
‘That walk looks like it’s done you the world of good,’ said Felicity, knowing that Polly had tossed and turned all night.
‘It did, it’s so peaceful down by the river,’ she said, slipping off her coat and draping it around the back of the chair.
‘And who is this?’ asked Martha, narrowing her eyes. ‘I’ve not seen you around these parts before.’
Polly met the gaze of the elderly woman, but before anyone could answer, a loud squelchy noise erupted from inside the pram.
‘Eww … I can smell that from here,’ said Felicity, looking into the pram and wrinkling her nose.
‘Polly Cook, meet my gran, Martha Gray, who didn’t make that squelchy noise, by the way.’
Polly grinned, ‘Please to meet you.’
Martha gave her a smile and a nod of the head. ‘Bad timing! I think this little fellow could do with a nappy change.’
Polly quickly took a step back, ‘I’m not used to such little people.’
‘Give him to me, I’ll do it,’ said Martha, stretching out her arms, much to Polly and Felicity’s relief.
Isla looked alarmed, ‘Gran, do you know how to change a nappy?’
‘It’s like riding a bike.’
Isla narrowed her eyes, ‘I can’t ever remember you actually riding a bike.’
‘Fair point, neither can I,’ grinned Martha, immediately retracting her hands.
‘Give the wee fellow here,’ offered Rona.
‘I can do it,’ said Isla.
‘You take advantage of my offer,’ insisted Rona, slinging the nappy bag over her shoulder and holding Angus at arm’s length before disappearing towards the bathroom.
‘And tell me more about you, Polly. What brings you to Heartcross?’ asked Martha, turning her attentions back to Polly.
‘Polly’s my friend from London, she’s staying with us for a while,’ Felicity replied.
‘I’m at a loose end, a very loose end. I’ve been made redundant and lost my home at the same time. I lived above the pub I managed, but it was sold to a new owner and they moved their family in and didn’t need extra staff. That’s why I’m here, a change of scenery, a break from the rat-race of the city, and I’m loving this beautiful village.’
‘This is the best village, I’ve travelled in my time but always come home and …’ Martha turned back towards Isla, ‘I can’t wait to get settled in the farmhouse. Am I in my normal room?’ she asked. ‘You know, the gorgeous English rose room with the triangular floral bunting draped across of the wall. I do love good bunting … and the view … the view from that room is spectacular. Earth to Isla … are you listening, you’re in a world of your own.’
Isla’s