Page 31 of Sunrise over Strawberry Hill Farm

18

Early the next morning, Flora woke with a start, wondering where on earth she was.

As she turned her head, she saw Nico lying next to her and then she remembered. She was in Scotland, on a tiny double bed in the freezing-cold guest bedroom of Mrs McKinley.

The sensible part of her wanted to get up and run, but recalling her conversation with Nico the night before made her stay. His own family upbringing was as troubled as hers had been. She had seen the flash car and nice clothes and had made her assumptions about him, all of which had been wrong.

Even the playboy act wasn’t quite true, she thought. He was a good person deep down who had tried to do his best. In fact, he was so good that he had offered to give them a large amount of money in honour of their grandparents’ friendship when it sounded as if money was quite tight for him. He was honourable.

And handsome too, she thought, continuing to study him. Asleep, he looked younger, a little more vulnerable than she had ever considered him to be. She had assumed that he was never serious, that he had no problems. Nothing could have been further from the truth.

He suddenly stirred and Flora quickly sat up, looking away so that he wouldn’t know that she was studying him.

‘Good morning,’ he said, with a sleepy smile. ‘Did you sleep as badly as I did?’

‘Probably worse,’ she replied, swinging her legs around and standing up. The bed gave a creaky groan as she did also. ‘The mattress was so thin, I could feel every coil on my spine.’

He sat up with a groan. ‘I thought the thin pillow as hard as rock was the worst bit.’

Flora stretched and headed towards the window. Peeking outside the curtain, she could see a fine drizzle settled over the landscape.

‘It looks like the fog has finally cleared,’ she told him.

‘Thank goodness,’ he replied. ‘Let’s get out of here as quickly as we can.’

* * *

After a meagre and somewhat awkward breakfast on the dot of 6a.m., they thanked Mrs McKinley for her hospitality (‘some hospitality,’ muttered Nico as they got into the lorry) and began the long drive home.

At the first service station on the motorway that they could find, they treated themselves to a large cooked breakfast and copious amounts of coffee.

‘That’s better,’ said Nico, leaning back in his chair in the food court and smiling at his empty plate. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so hungry.’

‘Me neither,’ replied Flora, draining the last drops of coffee from the mug. ‘Although I don’t think that was quite as good a breakfast as Grams makes.’

He nodded. ‘Agreed.’ He studied her for a moment. ‘So, I guess you know a little more about me after last night. And yet I know hardly anything about you. Did you always want to follow in your grandparents’ footsteps and become a farmer?’

Flora sighed softly and shook her head. ‘Actually, I went to art college. I’m a painter.’

He looked surprised. ‘Oh, really? Wait a moment, did you do the artwork in my bedroom? The landscape one of the valley, I mean? I looked, but there was no signature on it.’

She nodded. ‘Yes. That’s one of mine.’

‘Wow,’ he said. ‘It’s really good. I’d love to have that kind of talent. So what did you do after college?’

Flora hesitated before replying. ‘I never got to finish my art course or even use the skills learnt in the first year. You see, my grandad got sick. My mum passed away when I was young, Dad was never around and so Grams was struggling all by herself. So I came back to the farm to help my grandparents.’

‘I see. And you never thought to go back to college and finish your studies?’ he asked.

‘There was never time,’ she told him with a sad smile. ‘Grandad became more frail and Grams was nearly in her seventies by then. I took on more and more responsibility until I ended up doing pretty much everything.’ She leaned back in her chair with a heavy sigh. ‘And it still failed.’

‘I don’t think you can blame yourself for that,’ said Nico with a frown. ‘Times change and the climate hasn’t done you any favours either. Did you do your best?’

She nodded vehemently. ‘Absolutely.’

‘Then that’s all you can do,’ he replied. He smiled to himself. ‘So, the decoration of the kitchen…?’

‘That was after a summer trip to Africa when I was at college,’ she told him. ‘I was inspired by the colours and life over there.’