Foxglove Farm
CHRISTIE BARLOW
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers
HarperImpulse
an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2019
Copyright © Christie Barlow 2019
Cover illustrations © Shutterstock.com
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Christie Barlow asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008319724
Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008319717
Version: 2019-06-10
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
A Letter from Christie
Acknowledgements
About the Publisher
For the four most awesome people in the world,
My gang, Emily, Jack, Ruby and Tilly.
I love you more xx
Isla felt the tension bubbling away in the room the second she walked into the kitchen. She hovered by the table and watched her husband Drew slamming every drawer and cupboard door.
‘Have you lost something?’ she asked cautiously, wondering what the hell had gotten into him.
Drew spun round and held her gaze. His face was mottled crimson, the tendons in his neck bulging. Isla knew that look. Drew was spoiling for a fight, but she had no clue to why. It wasn’t very often he reached boiling point but when he did there was little time to duck and take cover.
‘It’s always down to me, isn’t it?’
Trying her best to keep composed against the sudden onslaught – after all, she wasn’t a mind reader – Isla kept her voice calm, ‘What’s always down to you?’
Drew ran his hand through his hair numerous times in quick succession, a trait he had when he was agitated.
‘Everything!’ He threw his arms up into the air. There was an irritation to his anger, a sort of impetuousness.
His words packed a powerful punch. ‘Everything?’ she repeated.
‘Yes, everything. Who’s up milking the cows at ridiculous o’clock?’
Isla narrowed her eyes; this conversation had come out of the blue and wasn’t one she was expecting at all. She didn’t understand the point Drew was trying to make, and for a second she thought about reacting with a flippant comment about the fact that he chose to be a farmer. But instead she replied with a calm voice, hoping not to fuel whatever was burning inside him: ‘And who’s been up three times in the night feeding our son while I let you sleep? I’m shattered too, Drew, as well you know.’
‘That’s not in dispute, but then you go back to sleep whenever you can while I single-handedly keep the farm afloat.’
‘The last time I checked, it was a joint effort.’ Drew was beginning to agitate Isla now. How dare he?
‘You’ve got it easy, Isla.’
Isla absorbed what he was saying, feeling shocked to the core. ‘Are you serious?’ The anger was now rising up inside her. How dare he accuse her of having it easy? Isla couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a decent night’s sleep.
‘You swan around without a care in the world, breakfast at the teashop, lunch