A Taste of Home Heidi Swain (book recommendations for teens txt) 📖

his smile, ‘but I’m expecting that will all change once I’ve found my feet.’

‘Oh right,’ said Grandad, talking over us. ‘I can see how it’s going to be. You two are going to gang up on me, aren’t you?’

‘Definitely,’ said Jake, winking at me.

‘In that case,’ Grandad sniffed, ‘let’s have a look at these hens and then I’ll go and make us a drink while you pair get on with the work.’

Jake’s Kawasaki Mule and trailer were loaded up with straw bales, a bag of feed for the hens and another of grit, while the box containing the three chickens was wedged securely in the passenger footwell.

As we approached, I could hear a gentle clucking which grew all the louder when Jake jumped behind the wheel and manoeuvred the vehicle over to the run.

‘This is exciting, isn’t it?’ said Grandad, forgetting his former scolding and honing in on exactly how I felt. ‘It’s going to be lovely having chickens again. Livestock and poultry make a place feel more alive.’

‘And then there are all those fresh eggs,’ I wistfully added. ‘I’ve got the most amazing meringue recipe I want to make again and it will go perfectly with our fruit.’

‘You’ll be giving Jemma a run for her money at this rate,’ Grandad chuckled.

I packed some straw into the henhouse and filled the feeder and drinker while Jake lifted the box into the run.

‘We’re supposed to leave them shut in, aren’t we?’ I asked the two men who knew far more about poultry welfare than I did.

‘As a rule, they’d be in the house overnight to get their bearings,’ said Jake. ‘But it’s going to get hot today, and as you’ve got a run and they can’t wander off, I reckon they’ll be able to come out after about an hour. What do you think, Bill?’

‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘That should do it. Let’s get them in, shall we?’

Jake opened the box and Grandad carefully lifted the first hen out, expertly tucking her under his arm. She was the classic ginger and white Rhode Island cross-breed and in far better condition than I had been expecting.

‘She doesn’t look too bad,’ said Grandad, as he gently stroked her back.

‘I’ve had them a little while,’ explained Jake, reaching into the box and handing me the second one. ‘So, they’ve already had some fairly decent feather growth. They hardly had any wing feathers at all when I collected them.’

They certainly had them now. The hen I was holding gave a mighty flap and Grandad stepped forward and tucked her wings in so I could get the same grip on her, as he had on his.

‘She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?’ he laughed as Jake picked out the third, who was docile by comparison.

‘She’s definitely the boss,’ said Jake, nodding at mine as he lifted the henhouse lid and lowered his demure bird inside.

I quickly followed suit, keen to let go of the ringleader before she flapped out of my arms. She clucked and gave me a very hard stare as Grandad deposited his. Jake carefully closed the roof and I checked the door was secure.

‘That’s that then,’ said Grandad, looking well pleased. ‘You’ll have to let me know how much you want for them, Jake.’

‘Nothing for the hens,’ he said, brushing his hands down his trousers, ‘but I’ll charge you for the feed and grit.’

‘Grand,’ said Grandad. ‘Let’s have a drink before you two shift this straw, shall we?’

By the time Jake and I had finished lugging the bales about and stacking them on wooden pallets as close to the strawberry rows as we could get, I was feeling hot and ready for another drink.

‘Thank goodness you had the Mule,’ I puffed as we covered the bales in a sheet of tarpaulin and secured it with a couple of bricks.

Rain wasn’t forecast, but I didn’t want to get caught out. Grandad had said the area was known for freak thunderstorms, so I wasn’t taking any chances.

‘I would have had to shift this lot individually with the wheelbarrow if you hadn’t.’

‘That would have been a killer,’ Jake agreed, wiping the sweat from his brow. ‘You could do with widening the path to get bigger vehicles down here. The farmer who owns the field next door doesn’t mind the tractor coming through his gate and on to here, but it’s not ideal.’

Working out how to widen the path would be another job to add to the ever-growing list.

‘Thank you for supplying these,’ I said, nodding to the stack of covered bales. ‘Now all I have to do is get the straw down and we’ll be all set. I’ll make a start on that tomorrow.’

‘Have you got anyone to help you?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s just going to be me, but I don’t mind that.’

‘Bill said you know a lot about the industry already. He reckons you could run this place single-handed.’

I felt rather proud that he had such a high opinion of me and my experience.

‘I know my way around,’ I said as we climbed back into the Mule and headed to the yard where Grandad was waiting with three glasses of lemonade. ‘And I’ve recently come to realise that my whole life has been leading up to me coming here. First off I’ve always had this slightly unusual passion for fruit farming and now I’ve discovered that it’s the family business and embedded in my genes.’

I didn’t mention how I’d found out it was the family business.

‘I’m looking forward to hearing more about it,’ said Jake. ‘And my partner, Amber and aunt, Annie are desperate to meet you. They’re hoping you’ll spend the afternoon with us, if that suits you.’

‘I’d love to,’ I said, my sudden willingness to mingle with people I’d never met, taking me by surprise, ‘but I don’t want to put you out. You must be busy and it hardly seems fair that you’ve got to chauffeur me about.’

‘Only one way,’ he said. ‘And I’m going back to the farm anyway.’

Immersed in the stint of