Chapter 3

Cooper

My stomach growls as I stare at the ceiling. I never did make it to dinner last night, said goodbye to Tulip, came in here, unpacked, laid down on the bed, and next thing I know, it’s 4am. Ten hours sleep. I can’t remember the last time I did that. Not since my student days, I’ll bet.

It’s so quiet here though, and so, so dark. Maybe that’s it. Or maybe it was the drive up here, the stress of having to come to this place. Even my agent didn’t trust me to come alone, insisted on driving me and depositing me at the gate. She knew I’d check into a hotel instead, come here only when I had to, wouldn’t immerse myself in it. Clearly, she knows me too well. She didn’t think her plan through though, or she’d have walked me in too. Maybe my peaceful slumber was because of all that sparring with Tulip. Wore me out mentally or something. She’s a vexatious little thing. One who I notice – once I’ve dragged myself out of bed – has clearly already been up and about this morning.

The note shoved under the door reads ‘Breakfast at 7.30. Don’t be late. Though seeing as dinner clearly wasn’t up to your movie star tastes, I won’t hold my breath. Tulip.’

I can’t help but smile. She’s a piece of work. Lovely to look at, but a bloody pain in the arse when it comes to anything else. Last night though, I thought we hit some kind of groove, bonded a little. Obviously, I was wrong.

The farmhouse kitchen is a hive of activity as I walk in, Blossom making breakfast, Clover scribbling in an exercise book while wolfing down some toast, and Tulip pacing back and forth, phone to her ear.

“What do you mean, they don’t make the part anymore? You said it was fixable. Dean, this isn’t some waste of space gadget, some pointless tech, this is vital farm machinery,” Tulip rants.

Blossom nods to the table, and I take a seat. “Everything okay?” I ask.

She sighs, places a full English in front of me and shakes her head. “The mower has gone again. Looks like we’re not getting the part for it this time.”

I sit quietly and eat, helping Clover with a couple of maths problems as I watch Blossom look up something called a flail mower online and listen to Tulip call place after place looking for the part they need.

I’ve cleared my plate and am finishing up my coffee, admiring the homeliness of the place, its lived in charm. At first, I thought it was a little unloved, but it’s quite the opposite, it’s full of love, to the point you can see where time stands still. The height chart handwritten on the kitchen doorframe, each girl in their own colour, the furniture, threadbare in places, paint peeling in others, the scent of aged wood and furniture polish. The house reminds me a lot of Tulip, a little rough around the edges, but nothing that detracts any from its natural beauty. I may not have wanted to stay here, but I’ll admit, having to look at Tulip for the next fortnight isn’t exactly hard work.

Tulip eventually slumps into a chair opposite me. “It’s useless, there’s nowhere.”

Blossom places a box of cornflakes on the table beside Tulip. “We’ll figure something out,” she reassures. “We always do.”

“This one might just beat us, Bloss,” Tulip replies, cereal pushed away with a sigh.

“Mum and dad wouldn’t give up, neither will we.”

A hard swallow from Tulip, eyes darting to something over my left shoulder before turning glassy. Every iota of fight seems to leave her, the fire snuffed out in an instant as sadness descends. I know what she’s looking at, I noticed it earlier – her family. Canvases, frames, all shapes and sizes, a life lived out in photos right there on the wall. And at the centre, the heart of it all, an older couple, her parents, I’m guessing.

It’s not long before she pushes up from the table, though, shakes her head as if ridding herself of the current problem, and looks straight at me. And if looks are anything to go by, I’m her next problem.

“Right, lots to do today, you ready to get those manicured hands dirty?” she asks.

“I am. I should check in with my agent first, check my emails, that sort of thing. Can you give me ten minutes?”

She nods, doesn’t offer a stinging comeback, and instead heads over to the wooden staircase that stands in the corner of the rustic kitchen.

“Oh, is it possible I can get the Wi-Fi password, please?” I ask as she steps onto a creaky bottom step.

She stops but doesn’t look at me. “Erm”

“It will just make things quicker. If you don’t want to…”

More creaking of ancient wood as she leans on the timeworn banister. “I … huh … okay, so, I may have changed it before you arrived,” she admits, face reddening.

I can see where this is headed. “You did, did you? Care to share this shiny new password?”

She fidgets, pushes her hair behind her ear, wrinkles her nose. She knows I’m onto her, knows I’ve already worked out it’s going to be something about me.

“Cooper-fox-is-a-twat. One word, all lower case,” she rushes out.

Clover giggles, looks at me and away again quickly.

“Change it back,” Blossom demands.

“No, no,” I say as I stand. “Tulip can keep her password. She can change it back once I’ve convinced her it’s not true.”

Tulip raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re confident.”

I push in my chair and move over to the staircase, stand this side of the banister, my height putting me almost face to face with Tulip as she leans over. “Oh, I am. I’ve never failed at anything I’ve tried.”

“That so?”

Our faces are close, close enough for me to notice the tiny smattering of barely-there freckles across her nose and cheeks. “Mmm. I’ll impress you yet, Miss Springfield.”

The right side of her mouth twitches up, just for a second, and then she rolls her eyes. “We’ll see. I’ve got a nice long list of things to do today, and I’m sure I can find something you’ll suck at.”

The word ‘suck’ draws my eyes to her mouth, pulls me in closer to reply. “Bring it on.”

As much as I could exist in that space, lose myself in the depths of her eyes, I pull away, and with a quick wink at Clover and a glance at the open laptop on the side, I head out to call my agent.

****

Tulip is a woman of her word. The long list of chores she has does test me, pushes me, makes me realise the overpriced personal trainer I have doesn’t even come close to giving me the kind of workout running a farm does. It’s barely mid-morning and I’ve already used muscles I didn’t even know I had.

“Now might be a good time to mention I’m not great with horses,” I say as she opens up the stable door.

She laughs. “You know you’re playing a farmer in this movie you’re here to research, right?”

“It’s a fruit farm. How much would I really be interacting with this kind of beast?”

The animal wanders out, nuzzles straight into Tulip’s chest. “Duke here isn’t a beast, he’s lovely.”

Make no mistake, he’s a beast, a huge, mighty, obsidian colossus. Heavy hooves thud as he moves, dark eyes seem to gleam with menace, and the very presence of him commands respect.

“I’ll take your word for it,” I say, unconvinced. “Who do we have over here? This one looks less like a gatekeeper of hell.”

She looks to the stall I’m standing in front of. “That’s Clover’s horse, Dreamer. And yeah, she’s a sweetheart, totally dopey and loving. It’s actually Truffle you’ve got to watch out for, she likes to nip at people.”

I look from the placid looking mottled grey horse in front of me to the large tan one in the last stall. “Blossom’s?”

Tulip laughs. “Yeah, their personalities are pretty similar too. Blossom loves to bite too, though hers are usually in the form of a telling off. Anyway, this isn’t getting you any farm experience, let’s get on.”

An hour later and we’ve mucked out the stables, the aroma of horse manure eradicated, at least for the time being, and the earthy scent of wood, soil, and hay now permeates the air. Taking a break, we settle on some bales of hay just outside the door, a shard of sunlight bathing us in its gentle glow.

Looking across the land, it really is the rural idyll, the peace and quiet here providing a soothing kind of serenity. Or it does until the almighty rumble.

“Oh, sorry,” Tulip says, hand flying to her stomach.

“Here,” I laugh, as I pull a granola bar from my jacket and offer it to her.

“No, no, that’s your snack. I should have brought something.”

“I don’t actually like them,” I admit. “I swiped it from the kitchen this morning because you didn’t have any breakfast and I thought you might get hungry.”

She stares at me for a second. “You brought this for me?”

I nod as she takes it warily. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“This you trying to convince me you’re not a twat?”

“This is me being me,” I reply. “Now, hurry up and eat, we’ve loads to do yet.”

She laughs as she takes a bite, covers her mouth with her hand and answers with her mouth full. “Not worn you out yet, then?”

I grin at her. “I can go all day … and all night.”

The hard swallow again, the blush that instantly flushes up her neck and face, it’s a far cry from the woman who greeted me after the rainstorm washed me back to the farm. She’s got a side to her she doesn’t let people see, the mouthy, argumentative parts of her are all an act. I should know, acting’s what I do. Maybe I’ll just add discovering the real Tulip to my list of things to do while I’m here, because something tells me she might just be worth it.