Later that afternoon, Rachel pulled up haphazardly in the yard near the farmhouse. She was coming back from fixing the water trough in the cattle field, which she’d noticed had sprung a leak. She still hadn’t heard from Tom about the result of the hearing, and the suspense was killing her. Did no news mean good news? After the stress of these last few weeks, she really bloody hoped so.
She scrambled down from the quad and nearly lost her footing. Eurgh, she could hardly see; her left eye was stinging after a fly had gone right into it at speed on her drive back. Jeez, was it sore! She prayed she wouldn’t have to wear some kind of eye patch for her wedding day – she was going more for country chic than pirate princess.
‘Hey, Rach.’
Everything was a little blurry but it sounded like Jake approaching – so he was back hanging around then.
‘Hi … can’t really see … Bloody fly,’ Rachel explained as she rubbed her eye.
‘Ah, hold fire. Let me take a look.’
With her eye half-closed, Rachel was standing still beside the quad. Jake approached, gently touching her face to open her streaming eye.
‘Oi, get off you!’ Rachel leaped back in surprise.
‘Hey, I’m only trying to help. Come on, hold still.’
‘Okay fine, go on,’ she sighed.
‘Okay, I can see the little bugger. Just blink a few times, and it might just move into the corner, where I’ll be able to dab it out with a fingertip or a tissue or something.’
‘Just go steady, I don’t want to be blinded for my wedding day or end up with a massive bloodshot eye or something.’
‘Well, if you don’t let me get on with it, you might well do … it looks pretty bloodshot already.’
‘Okay, okay.’ She stood stock still as Jake leaned in closer.
Tom turned into the farm entrance; he couldn’t wait to tell Rachel the good news. He hadn’t let her know yet as he thought he’d do it in person, rather than on the phone. Finally, they could move on, and he could now allow himself to relax and look forward to their wedding day. He found himself grinning at the steering wheel. But as he drove up the track towards the Pantry barn, he spotted Rachel standing by her quad in the middle of the yard with what looked like … Jake. What the hell?
Jake had his back to him … but it was obvious that he was too damned close to Tom’s fiancée. Tom slowed the vehicle, he was halfway up the track now, and refocused. He went cold. Their faces were just inches apart. Oh no. Jeez, Rachel, no, no. He couldn’t believe it at first. But it was there for him to see as plain as day. Not only were all those rumours likely to be true, but it looked as if Jake was back for another goddamned kiss.
Tom’s heart hit the deck. His stomach lurched and he felt physically ill. He didn’t want to see any more, his head crashing against the steering wheel.
He just couldn’t believe it. Just a few nights ago she had been in his arms, telling him she loved him. Did he even know her? Could his Rachel, his fiancée, be so damned cool and calculating, so capable of deceit? He took one last glance. The two of them were still up close and personal. This was no normal conversation. No chat about Maisy … and what the hell was the guy even doing here? It was a bit bloody early to be arriving for the wedding. The sham of a bloody wedding …
He slammed the truck into reverse, and rolled back down the track, turning with a wheelspin at the farm gate. Devastation. Anger. Disbelief. Emotions slammed into him. He punched at the steering wheel, and then he drove, he didn’t know where … just kept driving. Out of Primrose Farm, out of the valley, away from the rumours-turned-truths … to somewhere he could just crash and burn.
Sitting at the farmhouse table, having just doused her eye at the sink with some sterile eye drops, a stream of troubled thoughts rushed through Rachel’s mind. Jake had headed off a while ago, to check in at the B & B he’d booked in Kirkton, saying he’d be back at four to see Maisy. The old grandfather clock that stood in the corner was still ticking away; why-oh-why had she heard nothing from Tom as yet? She’d hoped he might try to contact her on a break during the hearing. She couldn’t help but be concerned for him with his farm, his livelihood, at stake. She caved in and called his mobile. It went straight to answerphone.
‘Hi, only me. Hope everything’s going okay? Keep me posted when you get a chance. Good luck … Love you.’
She told herself not to worry, that he’d just be busy, and she took herself back over the yard to help Jill at the Pantry. At least the customers would help to keep her mind off things.
Five o’clock and tea time rolled up, with Jake now back and staying for a bite of supper with Maisy and the family. There was still no sign of Tom and no answer to her messages. Rachel was getting really anxious by now. This wasn’t like Tom. Maybe things had gone badly in court, and he’d taken himself off to get his head around things, or to speak to the land agent to organise the sale of some of his farm? Surely, he should be on his way home by now … but why hadn’t he thought to call her?
Whatever it was, she’d get to the bottom of it. She found she had no appetite, excused herself from the table, and told her mum that she was nipping over to Tom’s farm. If he was there, they could have a good chat, face whatever had happened and deal with this thing together.
Rachel felt her heart plummet on finding Tom’s farmhouse was all locked up. No one home. No sign or noise from Mabel. Strange. Rachel then remembered that Tom was going to leave the dog with his parents for the day in case he ended up being a long time. Should she call them? Might he be there? She didn’t want to alarm them unnecessarily. But if there was something wrong, maybe they would know. Surely, they’d call her straight away if there was anything … Dark thoughts began to crowd her mind.
Sod it. She couldn’t just sit and wait this out. She got back on her quad, looked out over the valley and, after trying Tom’s mobile once more to no avail, she called his parents’ house.
It was Geoff, Tom’s father, who answered. ‘Hello, Rachel. Good news, isn’t it?’
‘It is? I wouldn’t know, Geoff. Look, sorry for calling, but I haven’t heard from Tom at all and there’s no sight of him at the farm …’ She was flummoxed for a moment. ‘Have you seen Tom, then?’
‘Yes, he was here – when was it now? – about three hours ago. Yes, came to fetch the dog and told us the wonderful news that the case has been dropped. Yes, something about some social media scam and his solicitor having a bit of a word off the record. Seems to have done the trick. Caitlin has dropped the claim entirely. Our farm is safe. What a bloody relief.’
‘Oh … So, he’s been home … back to Kirkton?’ Rachel clarified, trying to take it all in. Yes, it really must have been Caitlin behind the trolling. She wondered why on earth Tom hadn’t come to share this good news with her.
‘Yes. Is everything all right, Rachel love?’ Geoff’s tone became concerned.
‘Ah, yes, of course. No problem, I’m sure we’ll catch up with each other very soon. He must have had a lot on this afternoon.’ At least it sounded as if he was fine and all was well, and the case was dropped … well, that was a relief.
‘We’re both so looking forward to the big day here,’ Tom’s father continued jollily. ‘Weather forecast is looking good. And just let us know if there’s anything at all we can do to help for it – with the setting up and all that. We’re more than happy to get stuck in. I know Helen’s on board with the baking team with the WI.’
‘Oh, thank you both, and yes I will do … it’ll be lovely.’ She tried to sound upbeat, when all the while her heart and mind were racing.
What the hell was going on? Tom Watson had been back to Kirkton but was now AWOL. Might he have headed off, needing some time to think? Maybe the reality of Caitlin trying to claim against him, the acrimonious nature of his first marriage had hit him hard today, even though the case had been dropped at the last. Was he afraid he was going to be making the same mistake?
Hours passed in unseen and unanswered texts, another two trips to his farmhouse with still no one home, and a sickening churn in her stomach. The beep of her phone roused her; it was almost eleven p.m. by now, and Rachel was trying unsuccessfully to sleep. She snatched up her mobile from beside the bed and saw the screen. The message was from Tom. Thank God.
‘I wanted to let you know I’m okay. But don’t try to see me. I need time to think. I think we might be over.’
Rachel’s heart went into free fall. What was he saying? What was happening?
She quickly texted back: ‘Tom what are you talking about? I heard about the court case – it’s good news, isn’t it?’
She paused, frozen, completely baffled. She was desperate to reach out to him, to stop this – whatever this was – from spiralling further. There was no immediate response. ‘But I can come to you. Whatever it is, we’re in this together, remember?’ she pressed.
The reply chilled her already aching heart: ‘I don’t think so, Rach.’
And then, silence.