Summer in the Orchard (Little Somerby) Read online

  SUMMER IN THE ORCHARD

  Fay Keenan

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  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

  www.ariafiction.com

  About Summer in the Orchard

  Sophie Henderson loves her job at Carter’s Cider in the picturesque Somerset village of Little Somerby, but with summer dawning before yet another picking and pressing season, and her boss David showing no signs of wanting to hang up his cider jug, perhaps it is time to move on.

  She’s all set to hand in her notice when Alex Fraser, an intern from Vancouver, comes to Little Somerby to learn everything he can about the cider business. With Sophie as his mentor, attraction between them starts to grow alongside the apples.

  For Alex, however, being in Little Somerby is about more than cider, and as the summer grows warmer, and his relationship with Sophie blossoms, can he find the courage to tell her the truth before it’s too late?

  Fay Keenan’s charming, funny and deliciously romantic Little Somerby novels are sure to delight all fans of Jilly Cooper, Fern Britton and Katie Fforde.

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About Summer in the Orchard

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Eighteen Months Later

  Acknowledgements

  About Fay Keenan

  The Little Somerby Series

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  To Mum and Dad… for everything.

  1

  Sophie Henderson looked out at the sea of impassive faces and swallowed. No matter how often she’d told herself that it would be fine, that coming back to her old school to talk about her job would be a breeze, it really, really wasn’t. There’s a reason I never wanted to go into teaching, she thought as Mr Jones, the Head of Year Twelve, droned on with his introduction.

  Churchwell School’s main hall had changed little in the ten or so years since she’d left, and Sophie was uncomfortably aware of feeling simultaneously like a student again, but also realising how much time had passed since she’d been the one sitting down there, and Matthew Carter, Managing Director of Carter’s Cider, had come in to give this same talk. Seeing those distinctly bored looking, but admirably fresh faced students sitting on the plastic chairs, staring back at her, did little to banish her nerves. Had she looked the same, when Matthew had come in on Careers Day? She hoped not.

  ‘And so, I’m sure that Sophie will be more than able to not just dispel the myths about her job as a cider maker, but also explain the very good reasons why a job at Carter’s Cider might just be for you.’ As Mr Jones finished his introduction he glanced over at Sophie, who stood up a little too hurriedly from her chair, causing it to totter precariously on its back two legs before it righted itself with a thud on the wooden boards of the stage. Trying to ignore the trembling in her knees, she looked out at her captive audience, a fixed grin on her face.

  ‘Good morning, everyone,’ she said, her voice echoing slightly back at her from the walls of the main hall. ‘It’s great to be here.’

  As she drew breath she was sure she didn’t imagine the whispered, ‘Yeah, right,’ from somewhere in the front row.

  ‘I hope I can answer your questions today about what it’s like to work for Carter’s Cider, and that some of you might consider applying for the apprenticeships, which, for you, will begin after your exams finish next summer.’

  ‘Only if we get to drink the cider!’ A voice came from the audience, and was greeted with raucous laughter.

  Sophie’s grin got a little more fixed. ‘Well, it’s funny you should say that,’ she said quickly, ‘as part of my job actually involves cider tasting. So, who knows, perhaps you might get to do that, too? If you’re old enough to drink alcohol, of course!’

  Recognising that the heckler had been, as they would put it themselves, ‘burned’, or at least mildly singed, by Sophie’s instant response, the audience laughed a little more enthusiastically, and, encouraged, Sophie started to relax. She’d only agreed to speak at the careers day because David Armitage, Chief Cider Maker, had double booked himself and was, by his own admission ‘a little too long in the tooth to be down with the kids anyway, these days.’ At twenty-nine years old, Sophie felt the age gap keenly as she continued to speak, but, she figured, a lot had happened to her in the years since she’d left school. After ten years in the cider business, now having risen through the ranks to be Deputy Cider Maker, she was an enthusiastic and eloquent speaker, and found that the words came easily.

  As her speech drew to a close, and she paused for any questions, Sophie felt a flutter of nerves again. What if none of the students had any questions? Should she just continue to stand there, or should she sit down again? Mr Jones had been a little hazy on what happened after she finished talking. Thankfully, a hand shot up a few rows back from the front. Sophie breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘So, like, you try all the cider before it leaves the factory, right?’

  ‘That’s right,’ Sophie replied.

  ‘So, what happens if you’re not happy with it? Does it just get, like, chucked down the drain?’

  Sophie smiled. ‘Well, thankfully that doesn’t happen very often, as we’re pretty good at making cider both we and the customers will be happy with. Although…’ she paused tantalisingly, keeping her audience hanging for a moment ‘… there was an incident just over a year ago that meant we did have to get rid of about seventy thousand pints from one of the oak vats in the barn.’

  ‘Seventy thousand!’ Mr Jones echoed. ‘That seems like a criminal waste. I’m sure someone could have found a use for it!’ He pointed to himself and grinned. His audience laughed at the attempt at a dad joke.

  ‘I don’t think you’d have wanted to drink it.’ Sophie shook her head good naturedly. ‘After all, if you throw someone in a cider vat, it tends to contaminate the product a bit!’

  Suddenly the sixth form audience looked a whole lot more interested. ‘Does that happen often?’ Mr Jones asked.

  ‘No, thank goodness,’ Sophie said. ‘And I think you can only get away with doing it if you happen to own the business.’ She was referring, of course, to the night Jonathan Carter, co-owner of Carter’s Cider, and erstwhile Lord of Misrule, had thrown a man into the top of one of the Vintage oak vats after he’d been threatening the love of his life. Jonathan had released the man into the waiting hands of the local police, and, while the details of the case had never been made public, the episode had gone down in local folklore as the most dramatic thing to be a
dded to cider since his late father, Jack Carter, had changed his grandfather’s recipes back in the early eighties and several local farmers had staged a go slow tractor protest outside the front gates of the cider farm.

  ‘It took four days to empty and clean the vat, and refill it with more of the Vintage blend, and it did slow us down for a little while, but thankfully the guy didn’t do too much damage.’

  ‘Wouldn’t he have drowned?’ a voice called out from the floor.

  ‘There’s a stainless steel ladder inside each of the vats so that the coopers can get in and repair them,’ Sophie replied. ‘I think he’d have been pretty cold, but he would have been able to tread water – or cider – until he was released.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be a bad way to go, anyway,’ Mr Jones replied, grinning. The audience dutifully laughed again. ‘Thank you, Sophie, for giving us such an enlightening talk about your job and the business you work for. And if anyone’s interested in applying for an apprenticeship for after your exams next year, we have the paperwork at the back of the room, which needs to be completed by November this year, so do please pick it up on the way out.’ Shaking Sophie’s hand, and uttering a low, ‘Well done,’ he released her from the stage.

  As she walked back behind the curtain and tried to make her way down the steps and out into the auditorium towards the exit, she was brought up short by the scent of a familiar, and distinctly unwelcome aftershave. Pausing in the gloom, cursing the fact that her knees had started to shake, she waited at the top of the steps.

  ‘After you, Soph,’ a voice whispered in the darkness. ‘Good speech, by the way.’

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Sophie muttered, trying to hide her discomfort with defensiveness.

  ‘Same as you, I expect.’ The figure drew closer as Sophie gingerly trod the rickety wooden steps away from the stage and into the corridor. ‘Lecturing this lot about having to work for a living.’

  ‘I doubt you’d know much about that.’ Sophie tried to push past him, but he reached out a hand to stop her. Looking up from her feet, she met the cocky gaze of her ex-boyfriend, Mark Simpson, who was the manager of a dairy farm a few miles from the school. Her heart thumped painfully as she remembered the last time she’d seen him, and she hoped that he wasn’t going to try to remind her of that now, in earshot of all the sixth formers.

  ‘Don’t be like that,’ Mark replied, his hand still resting on her elbow. ‘Why don’t we go for a drink tonight? Talk things through.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ Sophie said, pulling away from his touch. ‘And since the last time you wanted to talk was because I caught you shagging your admin assistant in that excuse of an office of yours, I doubt you’ve got much to say to me either.’ Resisting the urge to look back, Sophie raised her head and walked straight down the corridor and out of the entrance to the school, pausing only to sign herself out of the visitors’ book. By the time she’d got to her car, her hands had almost stopped shaking.

  Before she started the ignition, she pulled her phone out and checked her emails. At the top of her inbox was yet another email from a rival cider firm, Martingtons, based in Herefordshire. A long standing contact there had been trying to poach her from Carter’s for years, and every time Alannah emailed her the job offer got more lucrative. Sophie was still dithering about what to do: should she hand in her notice and start a new phase in her career, get away from what was safe and familiar and step out of her comfort zone, or should she hang on in there at Carter’s and hope that some time soon David, much as she liked him, would hand his tasting jug over to her?

  Resolving to look at the offer in more depth when she’d finished work that day, Sophie checked her other messages, which included an image heavy email from her grandmother, Lily. A romantic novelist by trade, Lily had recently discovered Pinterest, and was busily compiling virtual boards of pictures of ‘swoonworthy romantic heroes’ to aid her with her current novel. Lily’s current ‘hero’ of choice was Keanu Reeves, and Sophie had spent a fair few evenings over the past few months snuggled up on Lily’s sofa as they worked their way through his extensive back catalogue. Lily, predictably for a romantic novelist, was most keen on The Lake House and Sweet November, whereas Sophie was rather fond of the John Wick films. Grinning as she scrolled down the email, which contained at least ten different pictures of Keanu, Sophie resolved to look in on her grandmother after she’d finished work. At least, she thought as she pulled out of the school car park and headed back to Carter’s Cider, her grandmother’s email had lightened her mood after the encounter with Mark. He was someone she certainly didn’t want to think about any more than was strictly necessary.

  2

  ‘Bloody hell… look at who’s just walked in with the boss.’

  Sophie’s head snapped up at the exclamation from her colleague, Laura. She’d been busy on the filtration floor all morning since she’d returned from Churchwell School, and was, momentarily, lost in the world of tannins, timings and taste. ‘What? Who is it?’ She checked the pressures on the batch of cider she was currently testing and then turned to where Laura was none too subtly indicating with a thumb on her hip. Striding across the filtration floor was Matthew Carter, and alongside him was a tall, dark and extremely handsome stranger. Dressed in mid-washed blue jeans, a white T-shirt and an unbuttoned checked shirt over the top, he was the same height as Matthew, and just as broad. Sophie tried not to notice the slightly bowed knees on endless legs, muscular arms and lean torso, and the friendly smile that seemed to rest on all who crossed his path. Bloody hell indeed, she thought as the two men drew closer.

  David, her boss, crossed the floor from the other direction as the two men approached. Shaking hands with the new arrival, he motioned to Sophie to join them. Ignoring Laura’s jealous look, she did so.

  ‘Sophie, I’d like you to meet Alex Fraser,’ Matthew said as she approached. ‘David’s suggested that you mentor him during his summer internship, since he’d like to learn about the various Somerset bred apples we press here.’

  Alex held out his hand, and Sophie took it. His grip was warm and firm, and she liked the way he looked her straight in the eye. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Sophie.’

  ‘You too.’ Ah, yes, of course, now Sophie remembered the conversation about taking on an intern. She’d been so preoccupied with giving the talk to the sixth form about apprenticeships that she’d forgotten that she and David would be taking on an intern for the summer. The internship had been advertised separately from the more highly paid apprenticeships, and was from late June until the end of September. Sophie had been expecting some spotty schoolkid, who, doubtless, would spend more time looking at his or her phone than actually learning the ropes. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this handsome stranger, who, from the sound of that accent, had come from a little further afield than the local secondary school.

  ‘Alex has come over from Vancouver to see how our native Somerset apples could be mixed with Canadian varieties,’ Matthew continued. ‘I think it would be good for him to learn about our business from the ground up, so he’ll be working with various people during his time with us, but mainly with you and David, to really get a feel for how to blend and taste. I’m hoping, in the long term, that we might learn from each other.’ He turned from Sophie and David back to Alex. ‘I’ll leave you in Sophie and David’s capable hands for now, Alex. I hope you’ll have a really productive and enjoyable time here. Don’t be afraid to seek me or my brother Jonathan, out if you have any questions.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Alex said, smiling at Matthew. They shook hands and Matthew departed, leaving Alex, Sophie and David on the floor.

  ‘So, what brings you to Carter’s Cider?’ Sophie asked as the three of them walked back to where she had been mixing. ‘It’s a long way to come for a minimum wage internship!’

  Alex smiled. ‘I’ve just bought a cider business in a town outside Vancouver, and before I can really get going, I wanted to learn how best to get it on its
feet. Carter’s came up as the place to learn about English apples, since they’re the best in the world for cider. I’ve learnt a lot about the native Canadian varieties, but I want to produce an original Anglo-Canadian blend that would be a real selling point back home.’

  Sophie smiled. ‘What about French varieties? We’ve got one or two from across the Channel that we incorporate into our blends, and surely there must be plenty that came over to Canada with the French settlers?’

  ‘Oh, of course,’ Alex said hurriedly. ‘But they’re mostly used in Quebec, where conditions are a little different. I’m really looking for something English that I can use that’s robust enough to withstand a Vancouver winter.’

  ‘Well, you’ve come to the right place,’ Sophie said. She could already hear the enthusiasm in Alex’s voice for his project. She knew that artisan cideries were springing up all over the place, so she wasn’t surprised that Carter’s Cider was getting international interest; they were one of the biggest brands in the UK, after all. ‘If you’re going to learn about English apples, this is definitely the place to be. It’s just a shame Jack Carter’s no longer with us – Matthew and Jonathan Carter’s dad. He knew absolutely everything there was to know about growing apples.’

  ‘So I’ve heard,’ Alex said. His tone was light, but Sophie noticed he bit his lip as he replied; he must be pretty nervous about being here and want to make a good impression.

  ‘There’ll be a lot to take in,’ she continued, ‘so don’t be surprised if your head is spinning by the end of the day!’

  The two began to walk over to the exit of the filtration floor, towards the main yard where the apple baths were housed. ‘Have you always been into cider?’ Sophie asked as they walked, before bursting out laughing. ‘I’m sorry, that was a stupid way to put it. I mean, what makes you want to run a cidery?’

  ‘I wanted a change of direction,’ Alex said as they emerged blinking into the strong early summer sunlight. ‘I am… I mean, I was, a lawyer before making this change, but I’ve always wanted to do something more creative. When the orchard came up for sale near to where my parents lived, I thought it was a great chance to change direction.’