The Secret Life of Evie Hamilton - Catherine Alliott [175]
I said as much to Ant that evening, with forced jollity: telling him about mini Versailles; making a joke of it as Caro had. I told him about the barn conversions, and how, if they played their cards right, that little community could go up to the tarted-up farmhouse and watch a movie in the sunken cinema of a Saturday night; take a bag of popcorn. Told him progress was good, and it was time the farm moved on.
‘What, and become unaffordable executive housing?’
‘Well, affordable to some.’
‘Yes, but not the people who live in the village who need it. Not Madge and Tom Ure's children, who are desperate to stay. Londoners, second homers. City boys with fat bonuses, that's who'll be swelling the ranks of the village. And you call that progress.’
‘Well, anyway,’ I laid the table with something of a clatter, dropping the knives, ‘it's all going through, and Tim and Caro are thrilled.’
The following day Ant came home from work looking thoughtful. Anna and Stacey were in the sitting room next door watching America's Next Top Model. He shut the kitchen door softly on them.
‘Would you hate to live at the farm again?’
I turned slowly from the sink where I'd been washing up.
‘No. I wouldn't hate it.’
‘Could you even entertain it?’
My heart began to pound. ‘Yes. I could.’
‘The girls could too, I'm sure.’ His eyes were overbright.
I took my hands out of the hot water, wiped them deliberately and turned to face him, clutching a tea towel.
‘You're not seriously suggesting…’
‘Why not?’
I sat down carefully at the table. ‘Move from here? To the farm?’
‘We could do it up. Make it – not chichi – but comfortable. Put a new kitchen in, solve the damp, redecorate. What d'you think?’
I thought a lot of things. But I didn't want to get excited.
‘Can we afford it?’
‘Yes, but not easily. Mick Arnold's offered a fortune, and we'd have to match it.’ He was talking quite fast now. ‘This place will be worth quite a bit, though, being so central, but we'd probably need two salaries. So in answer to your question, yes, we could afford it, but only if you work. Which is what you tell me you want to do.’ He gave me a steady look. I returned it equally evenly.
‘I do,’ I said soberly. Then blinked. ‘Gosh. Sounded like a vow.’ And in a way, it was. To begin a new life. ‘Oh Ant,’ I breathed, gripping my tea towel, hardly daring to believe it.
He looked at me, surprised. ‘I wasn't convinced you'd want to. You're such a townie.’
I laughed, taken aback too. ‘Yes, I am, aren't I? But not always. I mean, once I was a farmer's daughter. And you know what they say: you can take the girl out of the country…’ My eyes slid away over his shoulder. Then came back. ‘And d'you know what, Ant? I've done the city. It used to hold me in such thrall, Oxford. It was such a challenge. Always there when I was growing up, a few miles away, goading me on, those flipping dreaming spires waving at me over the tree tops – come on, Evie, d'you dare? But I feel I've got to grips with it now. I've made my peace with it, and I'd like to go back to the sticks where I belong.’
It was a surprise to hear myself say it, even though I'd been thinking it these past few weeks, but it was true. And I no longer felt a fraud here, either. No longer felt I was travelling on a false passport. I'd fought my battles in this town, and now I was very much looking forward to going home and curling up in the window seat with a box of lime creams and a Georgette Heyer. My eyes widened in surprise, but I felt my heart swell too. I wondered if Caro felt that way about going back to town. Tossing her swill buckets over her shoulder and kicking