They spotted Simon across in the shed and gave him a wave.
‘Have a good day at school, Maisy,’ he called across.
‘Hello, Simon. I will.’
‘Morning, Simon. Everything been okay since I left?’
‘Just grand, lass.’
‘Right, we’d better go, Maisy. Don’t want you missing the bus.’
The two of them made their way down the farm track, hand in hand. Thankfully, Maisy enjoyed school. She’d only started six months ago but had settled in well at Kirkton’s First School, in the small market town that was just three miles from the farm. Maisy was such a sociable girl, she enjoyed seeing her friends as much as the learning.
The lane down to the road was bordered by grassy banks and spring had arrived with a mass of pale-yellow primroses, that nestled beneath the hawthorn hedges each side. At the roadside verge there were clusters of bold yellow daffodils swaying in the breeze, ready to welcome any visitors to the farm. Rachel made sure she kept the grass each side of the farm gate short and well-tended. Her dad had always insisted the entrance was neat and tidy. ‘First impressions, Rachel. First impressions,’ he’d say in his deep, resonant voice. She took a deep breath, feeling that familiar pang of sorrow.
She spotted her good friend Eve, heading down the lane towards them with her little girl, Amelia – Maisy’s bestie. They had walked down from their nearby cottage. It saved the minibus an awkward turnaround in the narrow lane.
‘Hi Eve. Hello, Amelia.’ Rachel gave a cheery wave.
‘Hiya, Rachel. You okay? Surviving lambing?’ Eve asked, pulling a grimace. It was well known in country circles that lambing was the most exhausting time of the farming year.
‘Yes, we’re getting there. Bit of a tense time last night though …’
The bus then arrived, pulling up beside them, and the girls got on with their school bags and packed-lunch-filled rucksacks swinging. The adults hopped on too, saying a quick hello to Ted, the driver, and checking that the girls had everything with them and that their seatbelts were done up. After a kiss and a ‘Have a good day’ each, they got off again, waving as the bus set away.
‘So, you were saying? An eventful night?’ Eve asked.
‘Oh yes … life in the lambing shed. A Texel was in trouble, the lamb stuck. But thank heavens it was all fine in the end … with a bit of early-morning help from Tom.’
‘Ah, the delectable Tom. Your dishy next-door farmer.’ There was no hiding that Eve, despite being happily married to Ben, had had a bit of a crush on Tom for several years now, which always amused Rachel. Eve hadn’t batted an eyelid when their childhood friend Tom had moved away to the city – largely under influence, or so Rachel heard, from his new wife Caitlin – but ever since he’d arrived back at the farm, newly single, Eve had seen him with new eyes. ‘I still haven’t worked out how he hasn’t been snapped up,’ she continued dreamily. ‘His divorce was ages ago.’
‘Hmm, maybe once bitten twice shy.’ Rachel knew that feeling well. ‘Anyway, I don’t know why you’re gushing on – you’re already taken. And, he’s at least ten years older than us pair.’ The two girlfriends had been a year apart at school, Eve being the older, but they had always lived nearby and been good friends, sharing the ups and downs of their teenage years. They were now the grand old age of twenty-four and twenty-five respectively – though after ten days of lambing and hardly any sleep Rachel felt about sixty-four.
‘Eight years older than me, actually. He’s thirty-three.’
‘Is he now, and how do you know that?’
‘It was his birthday a few weeks ago. He happened to mention it to Ben down in the pub.’
Tom was a nice-looking chap, Rachel supposed, but he’d always been a family friend. She’d known him as a neighbour from being a little girl. However much Eve had a crush on him, Rachel found she couldn’t even begin to contemplate him in that way.
‘So, what are you up to today?’ Rachel asked, happy to change the subject.
‘Well, I have a new project actually. I’m quite excited about it. You know how I love making things …’
Eve was the most talented craftsperson Rachel knew, making the most gorgeous felt soft-toy animals, and her knits were fabulous – her cute tractor design jumpers were a triumph – as well as bootees, children’s cardigans, hats and scarfs. At Christmas and birthdays, she usually turned up with a lovely handmade present. She also turned her hand to making gift cards, doing woodwork, needlecraft, you name it. Rachel had named her the bunting queen of the valley after she’d made a gorgeous strand for Maisy’s birthday party last year. It was so pretty, with flags of pastel spots and stripes and vintage roses.
‘Yes … come on, tell me all about it then.’
‘I’m looking into starting a little craft business and joining Etsy,’ Eve continued. ‘So I can start selling some of my stuff online. As always, we could do with a bit more cash in the household, but it’s hard finding a job that fits around school hours and isn’t too far away. But the best thing is, I can do all this from home, other than nipping to the post office for organising the postage. So, what do you think?’
‘That sounds a brilliant idea. I imagine you’ve done your research and looked into everything, and yeah why not. It looks a great platform. I’ve bought the odd thing from there myself. Hey, good for you.’ Rachel then had to stifle a yawn. ‘Sorry, that’s nothing to do with your project. I haven’t slept since yesterday afternoon, and even then, it was only for a couple of hours.’
‘Oh crikey, hun. Well you’d better get yourself off to bed. Is it night shift again tonight for you?’
‘Yep, no rest for the wicked.’
‘Or farmers.’
‘Too true. And, hey, good luck with the crafting, Eve. Once the lambing’s over I will resurface and join the real world again, I promise. We’ll have to have a coffee and a proper catch-up.’
‘We will, indeed. Or maybe a drink in the pub. I’m missing my mate. Bye, Rach.’
‘See you, Eve.’
‘Sweet dreams, hun.’
‘Thanks.’
Walking back up the road, Rachel thought how great it was that Eve was starting her own business. Little seeds had also been sown in Rachel’s mind. They really needed to think of something else they could do at the farm. A new direction. Diversification. Something that fitted in with their farming lives, and with Maisy of course, that had the potential to improve their income. But what, was the million-dollar question.
Oh yesss, the bliss as her head hit the pillows. Rachel snuggled down under a soft duvet with the bedroom curtains closed against the brightness of the early spring day. The sounds of the birds tweeting away outside soon began to fade as Rachel drifted into much-needed sleep.
When she came to, a tractor was droning in the distance and the birds were still singing. A glance at her wristwatch told Rachel it was almost 2 p.m. Goodness, she’d been asleep for nearly five hours. It felt like five minutes! She yawned and stretched. She’d better get up, give her mum a hand, and then go and see how Simon was getting on. Crikey, it was only another hour until the school minibus would be making its way back up the lane and Maisy would be home.
Rachel pulled on some tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt, popping an old fleece over the top. The farmhouse was never that warm, except in the kitchen by the Aga, as the thick stone walls kept it cool. Her father had been born within these walls. And, being brought up here as a little girl, Rachel