Changing Seasons. Spring II, part 2

Spring II, part 2. “How about a day out?” had been Annette’s question over breakfast. And Marcus had looked at her, thought about how hard they’d been working and decided that her question was spot on. They needed a day out, a day’s break. Some time together that wasn’t spent among the vines or in the wine shed!
“Where would you like to go?”
“How about seeing what Euan’s done to the graveyard?” “Euan’s made a huge difference here! That building looked dreadful when we first saw it – ivy all over it, and so dirty!”
“How To Restore Old Stonework,” Marcus said, laughing. That book was always being read, if not by Euan, then by Clara.
“We must remember to tell Euan how good it looks,” Annette said. “An occasional compliment does wonders for your confidence.” They walked across the newly cleared ground. “Euan says he’s going to get this properly irrigated one day. After he’s cleared the weeds! He doesn’t want to encourage them with free water!”
“That’ll be a job and a half, finishing clearing this. Tell you what, Marcus – we could buy some seeds and start some flowers off to plant on the graves. Cheap and easy things like marigolds and pansies and daisies. Then Euan can plant them out when he’s got the watering sorted out.” “I love your bright ideas! We’ll do that. Shall we go and see what’s on the other side of that ridge? I think I caught sight of something.” “It’s another farm! Another abandoned one…” “Gosh, this was a big farm once. It’s bigger than ours and Old Tench said ours used to be one of the biggest in the neighbourhood.”
They propped their bikes against the fence and walked down the drive.
“Well, this house has lasted better than ours,” Annette said, laughing.
“It’s stone,” Marcus pointed out. “I guess when they first built it, there wasn’t much wood around – and plenty of stone.” He looked up behind the house. Annette went carefully up the steps to look in at a window. “Old Tench will know who used to live here. We’ll ask him.” “There’s a lovely staircase, all curved and elegant. Don’t think we could fit it into our house though. This must have been a really nice house at some point. Next time we’ve got some money, let’s think about improving ours a bit more. Maybe a couple of bedrooms. With beds!” Marcus went over to the other window. “I think we’ve got a better kitchen though. We don’t have a dead tree inside the house! Do you want to take a look at that place we can just see from ours as well? Might as well make a day of it.”
“That sounds like a brilliant idea!” “Do you think Lachlan could do something with that rusty old bike? Maybe put it together with a couple of others and make a new one!”
“Maybe,” Annette said thoughtfully. “Or maybe cannibalise it for spares for our bikes when they give up on us. So what’s this place?” “Dilapidated? Overgrown? Looks like a barn to me.”
“No house? Did it use to be part of our farm? Oh wait, I think it was something more once.” Annette looked in the opposite direction.
Marcus followed her gaze and spotted what she'd seen. “I think I recognise the architect," he said dryly, looking beyond the ex-house to their own only-just-a-house in the distance. “Nice soil,” Annette said professionally. “And near the river too – easy to irrigate. I wonder who used to live here. We’ll have to…”
“Ask Old Tench!” Marcus chimed in. It had been fun taking a day off, but they were paying for it now! Seven a.m. and they’d already been hard at work for a couple of hours. We need a way to make things a bit easier, Annette thought. Until we can afford to mechanise a bit. It was a whole week before they could find time to go and call in on Old Tench and quiz him about what they’d seen.
“We were looking around a couple of the other farms, and figured we’d ask you about them. What happened to them? And who used to live there?” “That company! That’s what happened to them! Foulin’ up the water. That first place you went to – that was the old Preston place. The oldest farm round here, and the first one to be affected. That was a good farm, that was, well run and everythin’. Old Joe Preston who was the last of the Prestons to farm there, he was a bit ahead of me at school, but Bess Malton, as she was then, she was in my class at school.” A thriving little community brought to its knees by the greed of one company. Annette’s heart was saddened by the Prestons’ story.
“See, they was dependin’ on water pumped up from underground. And when that got fouled up, the crops started dyin’. Bess was all for getting’ it investigated when that started happenin’, but somehow the company threatened Joe into not doin’ that.” “Then what happened?” Annette was thinking about the farm they’d walked around, seeing it in her mind’s eye again. “Let me think. We’re goin’ back…oh, thirty years now maybe. They moved away. Broke Joe’s heart in more ways’n one to leave that farm. Bess was left a widow with their young son to bring up. We kinda lost touch after Joe died. Guess she didn’t want to be reminded of the past.” “There was another place too. Over to the side of our farm. Looked like a small barn and nothing more, but there had been a house there.”
“Now that used to belong to the Smallcotts, but then their daughter didn't want it when they died. She’d move up North with her fancy rich husband anyways. Johnson, I think his name was? They didn’t do nothin' with it anyways. The Prestons, now, they was farmin’ that land for generations. You ought to ask young Clara about them – see iffen she’s found anythin’ in those letters and diaries.” They’d ask Clara if they ever had time to see her! Morning after morning they were up just as dawn was breaking, after falling into the sleeping bags when they could no longer keep working the night before.
“Marcus,” Annette said a bit hesitantly. “I don’t think we can keep this up.” Marcus finished cleaning the sink before he turned round to face her.
“You’re totally right,” he said. “I’ve been thinking that too. And I’ve had an idea. No, three. No, five, actually, if I count them all. Let me tell you about them and see what you think.” “Idea one. We sell all this wine – I know, we were always going to do that! – and use it to build something new instead of putting it into the tractor fund. Build what? I hear you ask. That’s idea two. Follow me!” “Over here, we build a small bunkhouse. But with room to extend it.”
“A bunkhouse? But why?” “Aha! Because bright idea number three is that we advertise for some help. Basic farm labouring stuff, but we can offer food, lodging and a salary, even if it’s not an amazing one. I’ve been checking the small ads each time we’ve been to Newborough, and I think we can do it. We only need someone for six months, say…”
“Okay, you’ve sold me on ideas on, two and three. What’s four and five?”
“Follow me!” “Four is that we extend the house a bit more…”
“We’re going to do that anyway. Put in a couple of small bedrooms and buy a couple of beds. No more sleeping on the floor!” “Well, I wasn’t quite planning that. I was thinking more in terms of one bedroom. And one bed.” “Annette Summer, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. And I love you so much. Will you marry me?” “Yes! With all my heart, yes!”