all carefully harvested, before being replanted and nurtured. Every square inch of prime land was kept fertile and protected, and each farm was a credit to both Frank and his tenants.
As he trotted down the bridle path, Dave had a sudden vision of his home town, of the mills and narrow streets of Blackburn. Of himself, as a boy, playing football with his pals on bomb-damaged ground. Of his mam, calling him in for a meagre tea. By contrast, this little corner of rural Bedfordshire, with all its abundance, was like the biblical land of milk and honey.
The last farm, and the closest to Frank’s own place, was the smallest and by far the prettiest. Nestling in the valley, it was the nearest thing to a dream place that Dave had ever seen.
‘This is Blueberry Farm.’ Frank was visibly proud. ‘What d’you think of it, son?’
‘Of all the farms you’ve shown me, this is the best.’ Dave had no doubts. ‘Best spot, best layout, and every field fenced and watered.’ He could see the stone water troughs shining in the fields. ‘What more could a man want?’
They had reined the horses in at the very top of the hill, and from there they surveyed the property below. From this angle, the farm-stead was like the perfect jigsaw, every field fitting together; and right at the front of the house a long, wide paddock wrapped itself round the dwelling like a scarf.
‘Would you like a closer look?’ Frank was enjoying his day, and more particularly the surprise yet to come.
‘I thought you didn’t like turning up unexpectedly?’
‘Oh, I’m sure no one will mind on this occasion.’ Frank started down the hill. ‘Come on! Time’s a-wasting.’
Intrigued, Dave quickly followed.
As they neared the farmhouse, Dave could see how the building was in need of some repair. The white paint was faded and the walls were shot with fine cracks. The door was falling off its hinges, the windows were boarded up, and the gardens overgrown. Only the fields surrounding it were kept in pristine condition.
‘Well?’ Frank had seen the disappointed look on Dave’s face as they neared the house, where the extent of its neglect was clearly visible. ‘What do you think now?’
Dave was honest. ‘I’m shocked.’ He gazed about, at the broken windows and the leaning chimney, tiles missing on the roof and gutters hanging by a thread, and he could hardly believe it. ‘How was it allowed to get into this state?’
Shame-faced, Frank explained. ‘I bought this property for the land around it,’ he said. ‘I had no need of the house, which was already past its best anyway, so what with one thing and another, it seems to have gone unloved.’
Like Dave, he had instantly felt the beauty of this place.
‘I had a mind to pull it down after I bought it,’ he went on, ‘but there was something about it that made me want to keep it, so I boarded it up to stop any passing tramp from setting up here. Time gradually slipped away, work rolled up on me, and nothing was ever done with the place.’
They lingered a minute, looking and both regretting that it had been so neglected.
‘Let’s see what the years have done to the insides,’ Frank suggested.
The men dismounted, and while Frank was forcing open the misshapen door, Dave tied the animals securely to the fence-post, giving them long enough rein, so’s they could crop at the grass without too much of a struggle.
The interior of the house seemed every bit as bad as the outside. ‘It’s a bit dark in here,’ Frank said. He had fallen over rubble twice, and behind him, Dave hit his head on a low roof beam. ‘If we rip down the boarding,’ Frank decided, ‘we’ll be able to see a lot better.’
With that, the two of them began pushing out the boarding that covered the windows, and as each board fell, so the daylight flooded in, and the house came alive.
‘Aw, this could be so lovely.’ Dave wandered from room to room. The beams were thick and low throughout, but unlike the entrance porch, not so low as to hit your head. Every room had succumbed to the ravages of time, with the ceiling having fallen in, in places, and the walls torn and damp, but even then, there was still a kind of magic about this house.
They were in the kitchen now; a big square place with a higher ceiling and the beams open to the roof, it gave a feeling of height and space. At the far end was the most splendid range; a great creation of iron and brass, it was thick with dirt and dust, and stretching from side to side was the most beautiful cobweb … so perfectly formed and delicate in pattern, Dave thought it must have taken the spiders years to build it.
Deep in thought and lost in the arms of this lonely place, Dave was startled when Frank spoke right by his shoulder. ‘What do you think I should do with it?’
Dave did not hesitate. ‘I think you should bring it back to its former glory, sooner rather than later.’
Frank patted him on the back. ‘A man after my own heart.’ From the very first it had struck him that Dave was so much older than his years. It wasn’t time itself that did that to a man. It was tragedy and loneliness, and a childhood lost.
Not for the first time, Frank was tempted to ask him about his past, but instinct warned him off. Dave was nineteen now, a fully-grown man, and his past was his own affair.
‘Come on, son.’ He urged him out. ‘Let’s get back. It’s coming up to lunchtime, and Lucy will think we’ve been kidnapped. And there’s no knowing what Maggie will do to us if we’re late.’
First stop was the big barn, where preparations were already underway for the annual party next Saturday night. Family, staff on the stud farm, and neighbours from miles around came every January, to raise the barn roof and brighten up a very dull time of year.
The irrepressible Maggie was there, issuing instructions and overseeing everything. ‘The music should be in that corner and the tables along that wall.’ She knew her stuff. ‘Oh aye, and make sure you put enough flooring down for a fair-sized dance area,’ she reminded the beleaguered workmen. ‘You know how folks like to get up and fling themselves about.’
As soon as she saw Frank and Dave enter the barn, she came rushing over. ‘It’s coming together a treat,’ she said excitedly. ‘All we want now is for the lanterns to go up and the barn to be dressed; the food is my concern, and I promise, it will be the best feast you ever laid eyes on!’ At the mention of food, she caught hold of a workman hurrying past. ‘I forgot to say, the trestle tables need putting up in the far corner. The food must be kept out of reach of children and gluttons, until I give the nod.’
Before rushing away, the workman assured her it would be done.
‘You’re a bully!’ Frank loved every minute of it. ‘Look at him run, poor devil.’
Maggie tossed him a withering glance. ‘If you don’t want me to organise the party, it’s still not too late for you to take over,’ she snapped. ‘There’s still a few days left. See if you can do any better, why don’t you?’
‘Hey!’ Frank apologised. ‘Don’t be so damned touchy, woman.’
‘Am I in charge or am I not?’
‘Do you want to be in charge?’
‘That’s a silly question,’ she retorted. ‘Haven’t I done it every year so far, and don’t you know that very well, you old fox!’
‘Whatever you say.’ Frank assumed that he was forgiven. ‘By the way, Dave and I have been out to the far reaches.’
She melted with a smile. ‘Oh, Dave … did you see Blueberry Farm, love?’
‘Yes,