Page 17 of Sunrise over Strawberry Hill Farm

It did look in pretty bad shape, he thought. Hardly surprising when it had been stuck in a draughty, damp stable for the past sixty years. But the Ducati insignia could still be made out amongst the rust and dirt. And the shape was pure Italian style.

He had only ever thought of his grandfather as an elderly man, but, of course, he had been young once. Riding the roads of Europe in his late teens on a classic Italian motorbike. Nico wished he had heard about his grandfather’s adventure when he had still been alive and added the lack of conversations about his past to the long list of regrets that he had now that his grandfather was no longer around.

‘Good job this place is one that isn’t on the floodplain so it wasn’t submerged,’ said Ethan. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Nico truthfully.

‘You could always have it shipped back to Italy when you leave,’ suggested Ryan.

Nico’s heart froze. The trouble was that there was nowhere to ship it to. He was effectively homeless until he found himself work and a place to live and it broke his heart to feel so adrift of life and his family. But perhaps he could store the bike somewhere until a more settled time arrived in his life.

‘They’ve still got a decent amount of hay,’ said Joe, nodding thoughtfully to himself as he glanced around. ‘Perhaps Flora can do something with that.’

‘Well, if anyone can it’s Flora,’ said Ryan. ‘She’s always been the sensible one.’

‘She’s going to need to be if they’re going to stay afloat,’ said Joe with a grimace. ‘I’m afraid it’s looking pretty bleak,’ he carried on. ‘You know that I was looking into the business for them?’ He glanced at Nico. ‘That’s what I do. I help farms diversify and help turn a profit.’

‘And did you?’ asked Ethan. ‘Help, I mean.’

Joe blew out a sigh. ‘If I could, I would. But the majority of Strawberry Hill Farm sits on the floodplain.’

Nico was silent. He had been used to being beholden to the weather whilst tending the vines. A late frost in the spring could be the end of a decent crop later that summer. Too much rain and not enough sun would mean a smaller yield during harvest time. It had always been a balancing act and one completely out of his control.

‘It was fine in the olden days, according to Grams, give or take the odd bad year,’ carried on Joe. ‘But more recently, with the climate changing, it just doesn’t work for any kind of agricultural planting. They’ve just sold all their farm equipment to clear their debts.’

Ryan and Ethan took a sharp intake of breath. ‘No!’ they both said at the same time.

Joe nodded his head sadly. ‘There was nothing else that could be done. If things get worse, the tractor will have to go too. I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but I just don’t know what they can do. Diversify, but how?’ He sighed. ‘Listen, don’t mention it at the birthday party tonight. They’re both pretty upset.’

‘I’m sure,’ said Ryan, with a frown. ‘Do you think they’ll have to sell up?’

‘I don’t know,’ replied Joe. ‘I hope not, but hope alone is not going to keep their bank balance in the black.’

‘I had no idea,’ said Ryan.

‘No one has,’ said Joe quietly. ‘They’re both incredibly private people and there’s a sense of embarrassment that the business might not survive.’

‘To hell with being embarrassed,’ snapped Ethan. ‘They need our help.’

‘Yes but how?’ asked Joe. ‘The majority of their fields are on the floodplain and so that only leaves the top couple free. That’s not enough to sustain an income.’

‘I can’t believe they might have to sell up and leave,’ said Ryan, looking dismayed.

Nico felt the same way. He had remained silent but was feeling stunned. Flora had lied to him when he’d asked about how healthy the business was. Or perhaps she’d never answered the question, he realised, when he thought back to their conversation. But there was no doubt that the farm was close to failure.

The trouble was, he wasn’t sure what the failed son of a renowned playboy could offer in the way of help.

10

The last thing Flora had wanted to do after a miserable afternoon overseeing the collection of the last of their farming equipment was to go to a party. But it was Katy’s birthday and perhaps a night with her friends would perk her up.

She clinked glasses with the girls and said, ‘Cheers!’

The event was being held in Platform 1, which, for once, was closed to pizza takeouts for the private birthday party of friends and family.

‘This is wonderful,’ said Katy, looking a little teary. ‘Last year, I didn’t even celebrate my birthday and just worked instead.’

Katy had been a high-achieving career woman before a temporary stay in Cranfield had changed everything.