Changing Seasons. Spring III, part 3

Spring III, part 3 Yep, this is me and the fish bucket again! It’s getting warmer, getting nearer summer, and Annette is getting bigger. And hotter. And grumpier. I didn’t think Annette had any mode other than cheerful, but she’s definitely moved over to tetchy from time to time. Quite frequent times. We’ve banned her from getting up early, doing too much…all the things that she just saw as normal nearly eight months ago. Clara practically seems to live here – she goes home to sleep! – but she’s actually the best at bullying Annette into submission. Or coaxing her, to be fair. Sometimes she’d just make Annette laugh herself into a better humour by asking the baby if it thought Mummy was over-reacting a little. Just because she was busy building another human being didn’t mean she shouldn’t be able to do everything else as well… I swear I could hear Marcus’s blood pressure going down sometimes. Maybe Clara has earned all the work on the tower she’s demanding from us. I’ve been borrowed again – honestly, my labour is lent around like a library book! I’m not too sorry to be on a horse again actually – it’s shovelling muck that’s the non-starter. Artie Campbell heard on the grapevine that I’d worked with horses and asked me if I’d put Old Pete through his paces, see what I thought. Hard to tell on the road, so I’m taking him to the old arena. Well, you can set him up nicely for the jumps. He’s an obedient horse – he responds well – but I don’t think he’s a great thinker. I think his rider’s going to have to be the brains of the partnership. Yep. Nice stretch over the jump, but there was a mare at the ranch who was as clever as a cat over jumps. You could trust her. This one? Dim but very willing, I’d say. And he’s not the fastest horse in the book either, though I think he’s got staying power. Hard to tell from a short trial. Now I’m going to have to work out how to tell Artie what I think… Well, I got a meal at the end of it with the two old-timers. I’ve been assured that Artie’s done a lot of cleaning up. It’s hard to believe…
“I see you do most of your livin’ in here.”
“Heck, yes! No point in having endless rooms to keep clean. Might as well just live in the one room. Don’t sleep here though. That’s not hygienic, sleeping in the kitchen.” They got onto the good old days and went upstairs (just as bad as down. Though it doesn’t smell, so actually I guess it’s clean enough) to look at an old poster of some cowgirl in a rodeo who came from round here once. Then they let fall a name that had me pricking up my ears.
“Remember Victoria and Albert’s honey? That was good honey. Best in the neighbourhood. I reckon it was all them flowers in her garden…” Victoria. That’s the name pencilled on the back of one of those photographs. There was writing under the photographs once, but it’s faded with time into illegible – and believe me, I’ve tried! Victoria is my only clue for names. My mother would never talk about her past and where she came from. “My parents, they had this runnin’ joke with Albert, ‘bout how he’d found his Victoria. They was real happy together.”
This might be them! I could tell that they were a happy couple by those photos.
“Shame they didn’t have no child to pass the farm onto.”
Not my grandparents then. “They had one girl. Real late on. Reckon it must have been after you moved away. But she wasn’t int’rested in no farmin’ lifestyle. Got herself some education an’ went an’ caught herself some rich guy. Johnson, I think his name was…and when the old folks passed away, she didn’t do nothin’ about the farm. Just left the place to fall apart. Didn’t even bother tryin’ to sell it. I think she was ashamed of her folks, but she didn’t have no call to be. Real decent, they were.”
“Real shame, that.” A farm, with flower beds and beehives. And Johnson was close enough to Jones as a name. This had to be it. It was still here, somewhere. I could ask where, but I want one more search myself. Or maybe two. And it the farm had never been sold…I could ask for it as my inheritance. My brother was going to get the firm, but I could have the farm. “Oh lovely fish bucket, how happy I am to be with you!” And that’s not a sarcastic comment either. Not today. Why the joy at being with the fish bucket? Marcus is letting Clara drive at least half-way to Newborough. And they’re picking Euan up and taking him too – he wants to buy something nice for Patience, just to tell her she’s special, which is kind of romantic, but whether he’ll be able to think straight when he gets there after being driven by Clara is another kettle of fish!
And maybe there’ll be some mail for me. See, I wrote to my family and asked for the farm as my inheritance. Gave my address as c/o the Newborough post office. Maybe they’ll have got back to me. They did. The farm is mine! There’s a whole lot of stuff I had to send back, all duly witnessed by a lawyer (that cleaned out my savings!) about me having no claim on the business or any other assets in the future, but that’s fine by me. All I’ve ever wanted is that farm. Now I need to find it – so I’m being logical and following the river round. The deeds and plans and maps will arrive soon, but I can’t wait that long! Following the river round and looking for some clues. There’s a bit of landscape in this picture, so I reckon I should be able to spot it. I’ve not had much free time at all lately, what with Annette getting slower and the church tower work as well. We need that tractor – or another farmhand, because once I find my farm, I’ll be leaving theirs. I can see Marcus and Annette’s farm from here. Good – I really want a nice cool drink. It’s hot out here today! And I’m cutting across past that tumble-down shed, rather than bothering to go round by the road. Let’s face it, no-one’s going to object! Tomorrow, I’ll follow the river in the other direction, past Patience and Euan’s house. There’s places along there I haven’t walked yet, and I’ve always had a feeling that it’s over that way. Wait a minute. That slope on the hill – there, by Euan’s house. I know that slope. I’ve stared at it so often on this photograph. But…this isn’t the house, surely? And there’s a barn. Roughly where the barn in the picture was. And the river’s about the right distance away. But how can this be the same place as the one in the photographs? Where’s the trees, the water tower, the beehives? Where’s that home I fell in love with as a child? We’ve painted the big upstairs room and made one corner of it into a nursery where Annette can sit and rock when all her aches and pains get Just Too Much for her. I wonder if Patience and Marianna found pregnancy this hard? Today’s first job – lifting these and taking them over to the graveyard for Euan to plant. Nice and early, before it gets too hot. And I think I’ll give them a good watering first as well. Being transplanted is always a bit stressful. The plants will be much happier when they’ve put their roots well down into their permanent home.
Hmm. That’s a bit of a metaphor for my life at the moment as well, isn’t it? And I haven’t told Marcus and Annette yet about the farm either. Better get a move on though – Marcus wants the truck today as well. Another trip over Newborough way. We’d just come in from weeding, Clara and I, for a much needed drink when we heard the truck pull in. And a few minutes later Marcus came prancing into the house and dumped a yellow car and a fistful of post onto the table.
“Nearest thing I could find to a toy tractor in the time I had to look,” he said, grinning from ear to ear. “But we have a real one coming soon! That last batch of wine took our savings up over the tractor threshold! Blake, there’s some mail for you here too – stuff from lawyers and all sorts, in fancy envelopes. You’re not in trouble, are you? Can we help?” “Um, no,” I said. “You see, it’s like this…”
I could have done without Clara’s full attention. I didn’t get away with leaving anything out. Except for how my eight year old self had longed for a home where I felt I belonged and was wanted. I kept that secret. “But we have the tractor coming soon! Can you hang on here until Annette’s had the baby and recovered a bit, though? I don’t think that we could cope with losing you just yet.”
Well, that was a relief. I needed another month’s wages at least to finish covering all the legal costs – I knew those letters would also be demanding money for land registry fees and so on.
“Of course I can,” I said with enthusiasm. “As long as you need me for – there’s no rush on my part.”
I was going to miss this bright and cheerful kitchen. And I wasn’t too sure where I was going to sleep, eat or live on that soon-to-be-mine farm.


Blake and his house were made by Jessabeans. Link here for Blake
https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9352926
and here for the house
https://www.thesims3.com/assetDetail.html?assetId=9352888
which I tweaked slightly to fit in with the landscape and the story.