Page 2 of Sunrise over Strawberry Hill Farm

Flora knew that the memories of her mother kept him away but had always secretly hoped that the lure of his only child would have brought him back home. But it had never happened.

Left behind, Flora had blossomed under her grandparents’ care and attention and they had encouraged her to pursue her love of art. She had always adored painting and they had all been delighted that she had received a place at art college. During her first summer break, she had returned from a holiday in Africa armed with new ideas to freshen up the farmhouse. Consequently, the thick walls of the kitchen were painted bright orange and the cupboard doors a vivid blue. It wasn’t the traditional colours for a country kitchen, but her grandparents adored it and suited their sunny natures.

But all too soon afterwards, Flora’s grandfather had grown ill, leaving Grams overwhelmed with trying to cope with working the land by herself. So Flora had abandoned her art course to return to the farm to help out. When her grandfather passed away a short time later, Grams had tried to encourage her to return to college but Flora had refused. She would never have wanted to be anywhere else other than by Grams’ side when she needed her.

She had been young, only nineteen years old, and her carefree college days were suddenly over. As Grams grieved for her beloved husband, Flora became aware of the responsibility of ensuring the farm that had been in the family name for over one hundred years survived. It was a huge burden and weighed heavily on her young shoulders.

So she had even abandoned her beloved painting to work every hour, do anything and everything that she could to help the farm carry on. In fact, she loved working the land, never minding the early starts and late finishes as it meant that she could enjoy the beauty of the sunrises and sunsets – her favourite times of the day. But any work/life balance was impossible with so much to do. She enjoyed a weekly cocktail session with the girls, but everything else had been sacrificed. And it still didn’t feel as if it had been enough, especially now with the future of the farm so uncertain.

Grams brought over a mug of coffee and sat down at the table.

‘I’m getting things ready for our visitor. Have you forgotten?’ she asked. ‘Lorenzo’s grandson is arriving over the next couple of days.’

Flora made a face as she selected a muffin from the pile and picked at a piece of apple on the top. ‘I still don’t understand why he’s coming here,’ she said.

The timing couldn’t be worse and the farmhouse wasn’t exactly up to welcoming any visitors.

‘Nico is coming here because he’s the grandson of one of my oldest friends,’ Grams told her. ‘The letter I received last week said that he has something he wants to discuss with me. I have no idea what that is, but of course we will make him welcome. He couldn’t be sure on the exact date when he was going to arrive, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon.’

‘So, remind me again. You and Lorenzo were…?’ prompted Flora.

‘Just good friends,’ said Grams with a smile to herself. ‘He came to the farm to work during the summer of 1961. We had such fun all those years ago, your grandfather, Lorenzo and I. We were all young and carefree, only in our late teens, and we have remained friends ever since, despite Lorenzo returning to Italy that same year. Did I tell you that his son is a very famous footballer over there? And an even more famous playboy!’ added Grams, laughing. ‘Can’t wait to hear all about that! Paolo Rossi is apparently always in the news over there with his scandalous love life. I’m sure his son has inherited the same good looks and charm that all the Rossi men seem to have.’

Flora grimaced. The last thing she wanted was some overbearing charmer turning up at the farm. Having been abandoned by her father all those years ago, she had deliberately built a hard shell around her heart to any kind of romance. Because if her own father could walk out on her, then surely every other man would do the same? Men were an alien species to be approached with caution, hard to understand and always likely to let her down. Apart from her grandad, of course. She missed him terribly and so did Grams.

She looked across at her grandmother. Helen Barton had a weatherworn face, but her eyes sparkled bright against her grey hair and rosy cheeks.

‘I think a playboy might be just what you need,’ Grams told her with a wicked glint in her green eyes. ‘Have a bit of fun. You’re thirty-one and I can’t remember the last time you went on a date.’

Flora took a bite out of the muffin, the delicious flavour reminding her just how good a cook her grandmother was.

‘I went out with Tyler Smith last autumn,’ she replied, before wolfing down the rest of the muffin.

Grams rolled her eyes. ‘Tyler is a nice lad and a good farmer, but he’s as dull as ditch water,’ she said with a sad shake of her head. ‘You need someone you can laugh with. That’s the one whom you should fall in love with.’

‘Love?’ Flora raised an eyebrow at her grandmother. ‘I haven’t got time for love. I need to check on the fields.’

‘Why?’ asked Grams, looking surprised. ‘There’s nothing growing in them any more.’

‘I know, but how else can I avoid this awkward conversation?’ said Flora, with a wink. She quickly got up and went to walk outside when she stopped to return to the table to drop a kiss on her grandmother’s forehead. ‘You don’t need to worry about me,’ she said in a soft voice.

‘I will always worry about you,’ replied Grams, reaching out to take Flora’s hand in hers to give it a tight squeeze. ‘You’re our lovely girl and always will be. I just need to know that you’re happy.’

‘Of course I’m happy,’ said Flora quickly. ‘I’m here with you, aren’t I?’

Flora squeezed her grandmother’s hand before dropping it to walk out of the kitchen door.

Once she had pulled on her wellington boots and shrugged on her wax jacket, she went around the side of the L-shaped farmhouse to walk down the hill on which the farm was set. At this highest part of the farm, the land fell away towards the river in the valley below and the view was spectacular across the rolling hills and green landscape of the English countryside.

The glorious surroundings always kept her calm, especially at that moment when it was bathed in early-morning sunshine. Flora would be heartbroken if they ever had to leave the farm. But if she couldn’t find a way of bringing in any income, what choice might they have in the future?

She glanced at the strawberry field on her right as she headed down the wide stony track. The strawberry plants were just peeping up from the ground where she had sown them the previous autumn but would benefit from being bathed in warm sunshine and the gentle incline which helped drain any rain away. Facing south, this field never flooded, so, over the summer, the bright red fruits which had given the farm its name all those years ago were the only crop which had made any profit.

Further across, the next field was much larger. It too was bathed in spring sunshine and never flooded, but it lay empty. That particular field hadn’t produced any decent crops in a couple of years and with costs spiralling, Flora had left nature to reclaim it. Slowly, the field had become a wildflower meadow, fresh green growth showing everywhere. In its wild way, Flora rather preferred it than the other regimented fields that had been farmed until recently on the other side of the hill.

But those larger fields wouldn’t be farmed any more either. The hill on the other side dropped sharply away and the farm’s remaining fields were all on a floodplain at the bottom, boggy and sodden for most of the year. It had been an ongoing battle for ages, but the last two winters had been the worst, with the wettest weather on record causing the winter harvests to fail for the second year in a row. And now, with the sale of the farm equipment, they couldn’t be farmed any more anyway.

At the bottom of the hill, Flora continued along the wide stony track into the woods. After being bathed in the early-morning sun, the woods briefly felt darker and cooler until she stepped out into a leafy glade where the trees had been cleared a long time ago.