laughed and said, ‘I suppose we could move out.’
‘He’d find us,’ Joe had said, cuddling up to her under the covers .
That’s when she’d started the badgering – she blanches just thinking about it – telling Max he needed to ‘get a life of his own’.
‘Go out and meet some girls,’ she’d say to him, rough like, when he was getting under her feet, which was all the time.
She passes Coopers on her way out the other side of Lipton, onto the Marpleton road. The suburban houses peter out, giving way to vivid fields; hedgerows rustling with the grouse. The countryside up hard against them, especially in Marpleton, which had little in the way of entertainment except the Fox and Feathers. And that’s where it’d all started – for Max and Primrose. It was after Tony and Sheryl Crowther came up from Essex and took it over. She still thinks of them as newcomers, even though it was five years ago now. The village could talk of nothing else.
‘That’s a hard-bitten woman is that,’ Ann remembers whispering to Lauren, and Lauren had nodded energetically, looking over at Sheryl behind the bar.
‘Batten down your husbands,’ Lauren had said.
They’d started that quiz, the Crowthers, trying to rev the place up a bit and that was when Max started wearing his best shirt and kicking up a right stink if it wasn’t washed in time. Oof, and that deodorant of his, Lynx something. He’d spray it more freely than Round-up, so that she and Joe would waft their hands in front of their faces and grimace as he walked out of the front door. ‘Ladykiller,’ Joe’d say, winking at her.
She parks outside the farmhouse, slams the car door and races into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom.
When she comes back down the stairs it is slowly, her body relieved. She ambles into the lounge to clear away a couple of mugs she’d spotted there earlier this morning. She opens the curtains and jumps back.
‘Ooh god, you gave me a fright,’ she says. ‘What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out watching the tups with Max?’
Joe is sitting, round-shouldered, at the computer in the dark corner of the room.
‘Just doing some research,’ he says without looking round. He is squinting at the screen, then down at the mouse, trying to make a connection between the two. She looks over his shoulder. farmautotrader.co.uk. Joe’s answer to pornography. On the screen is a John Deere 5100m tractor. POA.
‘Price on application,’ she says. ‘Or as I like to call it, OMDB.’
He looks up at her.
‘Over My Dead Body,’ she says.
‘It’s got leather seats, climate control, telescopic mirrors. And power synchron.’
Ann is standing behind him, hands on hips. ‘Oh, well, why didn’t you say? If it’s got power synchron,’ she says. ‘What about bells and whistles – has it got those?’
‘There’s a forage harvester here for fifteen grand,’ says Joe. ‘If we got one of these, Max wouldn’t have to hire one every year. In fact, he might be able to hire it out – make some extra cash.’
Ann has flopped down into one of the armchairs. Strange to be in the lounge with Joe in the daytime. Wrong, somehow.
‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘but do we live on the same farm?’
Joe doesn’t respond. She cranes back behind her to look at him. He is staring at the screen, his mouth hung slack like he’s catching flies.
‘So Ann,’ she says, all am-dram. ‘How was Barry Jordan? Oh it was fine thanks for askin’. Subsidies going down the toilet, but let’s buy a harvester shall we?’
‘How was it?’ he says.
‘Same old doom and gloom.’ She leans her head back into the soft back cushion. She can hear Joe behind her head, clicking with the mouse. ‘Single farm payment’s not going to do us any favours. I can’t talk to you when you’re on that thing. Can you get off it? I want to email Bartholomew.’
‘Gimme a minute. Anyway I’m going to ring him – with Max. Tell him about the
‘He’d find us,’ Joe had said, cuddling up to her under the covers .
That’s when she’d started the badgering – she blanches just thinking about it – telling Max he needed to ‘get a life of his own’.
‘Go out and meet some girls,’ she’d say to him, rough like, when he was getting under her feet, which was all the time.
She passes Coopers on her way out the other side of Lipton, onto the Marpleton road. The suburban houses peter out, giving way to vivid fields; hedgerows rustling with the grouse. The countryside up hard against them, especially in Marpleton, which had little in the way of entertainment except the Fox and Feathers. And that’s where it’d all started – for Max and Primrose. It was after Tony and Sheryl Crowther came up from Essex and took it over. She still thinks of them as newcomers, even though it was five years ago now. The village could talk of nothing else.
‘That’s a hard-bitten woman is that,’ Ann remembers whispering to Lauren, and Lauren had nodded energetically, looking over at Sheryl behind the bar.
‘Batten down your husbands,’ Lauren had said.
They’d started that quiz, the Crowthers, trying to rev the place up a bit and that was when Max started wearing his best shirt and kicking up a right stink if it wasn’t washed in time. Oof, and that deodorant of his, Lynx something. He’d spray it more freely than Round-up, so that she and Joe would waft their hands in front of their faces and grimace as he walked out of the front door. ‘Ladykiller,’ Joe’d say, winking at her.
She parks outside the farmhouse, slams the car door and races into the house and up the stairs to the bathroom.
When she comes back down the stairs it is slowly, her body relieved. She ambles into the lounge to clear away a couple of mugs she’d spotted there earlier this morning. She opens the curtains and jumps back.
‘Ooh god, you gave me a fright,’ she says. ‘What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out watching the tups with Max?’
Joe is sitting, round-shouldered, at the computer in the dark corner of the room.
‘Just doing some research,’ he says without looking round. He is squinting at the screen, then down at the mouse, trying to make a connection between the two. She looks over his shoulder. farmautotrader.co.uk. Joe’s answer to pornography. On the screen is a John Deere 5100m tractor. POA.
‘Price on application,’ she says. ‘Or as I like to call it, OMDB.’
He looks up at her.
‘Over My Dead Body,’ she says.
‘It’s got leather seats, climate control, telescopic mirrors. And power synchron.’
Ann is standing behind him, hands on hips. ‘Oh, well, why didn’t you say? If it’s got power synchron,’ she says. ‘What about bells and whistles – has it got those?’
‘There’s a forage harvester here for fifteen grand,’ says Joe. ‘If we got one of these, Max wouldn’t have to hire one every year. In fact, he might be able to hire it out – make some extra cash.’
Ann has flopped down into one of the armchairs. Strange to be in the lounge with Joe in the daytime. Wrong, somehow.
‘Sorry,’ she says, ‘but do we live on the same farm?’
Joe doesn’t respond. She cranes back behind her to look at him. He is staring at the screen, his mouth hung slack like he’s catching flies.
‘So Ann,’ she says, all am-dram. ‘How was Barry Jordan? Oh it was fine thanks for askin’. Subsidies going down the toilet, but let’s buy a harvester shall we?’
‘How was it?’ he says.
‘Same old doom and gloom.’ She leans her head back into the soft back cushion. She can hear Joe behind her head, clicking with the mouse. ‘Single farm payment’s not going to do us any favours. I can’t talk to you when you’re on that thing. Can you get off it? I want to email Bartholomew.’
‘Gimme a minute. Anyway I’m going to ring him – with Max. Tell him about the
Similar Books
