Spring on the Little Cornish Isles: The Flower Farm

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

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.’

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