Jonathan hadn’t actually forgotten about seeing Matthew that evening but he had decided against updating him about the plans for The Cider Kitchen’s autumn season straight away. He knew Matthew had bigger fish to fry with the additional paperwork that had come through for a potential takeover by Buckthorn, a huge food and drinks conglomerate which had cornered most of the international markets for cider. For once, he’d managed to pre-empt his brother and he’d actually read his copies of the paperwork a couple of days ago. He decided that now might be an opportunity to discuss things with their father. After all, Jack still had a big say in the direction of the company and it was about time they talked about its future. Grabbing his satchel from his office, he shoved his MacBook in it, locked the office door and headed back to Orchard Cottage.
It was a beautiful summer evening and he once again felt grateful to be living back in this part of the world. The sun was just on the wane and its light was reflected in the spotlessly clean shop windows on the High Street. The Little Orchard Tea Shop had closed for the night, as had most of the other businesses, but as he passed the wine shop, which was under new management, he could see Kelli, the owner, hosting one of the gin tastings that had become very popular over the past few months. Passing the large glass windows of the shop, he saw several of the locals immersed in trying some of the many new varieties of craft gin that certainly made a contrast to the mainstream brands. Perhaps spirits were something to consider as a next step for Carter’s? He’d certainly look into it. They’d often considered adding a home produced calvados to their range of drinks; perhaps it was worth further thought.
As Jonathan passed the chip shop he wondered about grabbing some fish and chips for himself and Jack, but he found he wasn’t that hungry. He hoped the bread he’d bought from the bakery yesterday might stretch to a cheese sandwich later, if his father hadn’t had the last of it for lunch.
It had never been his plan to move back in permanently with Jack; when the FastStream deal had been in progress last summer he’d landed in Little Somerby with every intention of making peace with his brother and then flying straight out of Bristol Airport. But something had changed; after ten years of enforced absence, he’d started to feel the stirrings of passion for the heritage and history of the family business. A few weeks had stretched to months and now here he was, nine months later, still in the box room.
As he turned up the driveway to Orchard Cottage, Jonathan’s thoughts drifted once again to Caroline. She was such a puzzle to him; on the one hand she seemed determined to set down roots of her own with the new job in a new location, but on the other hand she seemed so rootless. There was a story behind her dark green eyes, he knew it. Of course, he knew all about the losses she had suffered; her parents had died within six months of each other and then her brother, James, had been killed in a car accident, but Jonathan couldn’t help thinking there was something more. She’d obviously been successful in the events management business and she owned her own property in Farnham, which was an expensive area of the world, so why chuck all that in and come all the way to Somerset, even with Anna and Ellie nearby? He smiled; to be fair he’d done exactly the same thing when he’d moved back to Little Somerby. Perhaps he and Caroline had more in common than he thought.
Rooting around in his pocket for his house key, Jonathan saw that the front door was slightly ajar. His thoughts immediately moved away from Caroline; Jack had been getting rather absent minded lately and he’d left the door open a few times. Jonathan felt a shard of worry in his heart.
‘Are you home, Dad?’ he called as he walked into the hall, clicking the front door shut firmly behind him.
‘In here,’ Jack’s voice drifted from the conservatory that overlooked the back garden. In his later years, Jack had grown increasingly fond of his garden; he still tended the beloved rose bushes that had been planted by his late wife Cecily, and now they were in full bloom, their scents and colours permeating the early evening air. The conservatory door was open and Jack was sitting in a wicker armchair, a copy of The Telegraph in his hand and a glass of scotch on the small side table nearby.
‘Have you eaten?’ Jonathan asked as he wandered over to the open door of the conservatory.
‘Had a bite to eat while I was out and about earlier,’ Jack replied. In the still strong sunlight, the lines on Jack’s face looked deeply etched, and Jonathan noticed, with a pang, how loose the collar of his smart checked shirt was. Jack had never been the greatest eater, although he was rather fond of a drink, but Jonathan noted with renewed worry the belt buckle done up an extra notch and the slight tremor of his father’s hand as he reached for his crystal tumbler of whiskey.
‘Help yourself to one if you’d like,’ Jack lifted his glass. ‘Plenty in the decanter on the sideboard.’
This was a familiar ritual for the two of them and Jonathan enjoyed the time they spent together this way. He’d missed his father more than he could have imagined possible during his enforced absence from Little Somerby, and although they’d kept in touch regularly by phone, they’d only seen each other face to face a few times over the years when Jack had travelled over to the US on business. Pouring himself a small whiskey, he headed back to the conservatory and sat in the other wicker chair.
‘Good day?’ Jack asked.
‘Busy,’ Jonathan replied. ‘The new equipment was being installed in the keggery, and there were a few bumps on the way. And there’s a problem with one of the associate apple growers in Chew Magna, which needs sorting,’ he shook his head. ‘I’m still getting used to the day to day stuff.’ He paused momentarily. ‘Then there’s the Buckthorn issue, of course.’
Jack shook his head. ‘Not tonight, Jonathan. It’s too lovely an evening to spend it arguing about the business.’
‘We’re going to have to discuss it some time,’ Jonathan said. His tone was light; he knew when not to push things. ‘Even if not tonight.’
‘We will,’ Jack said. ‘But it wouldn’t be fair without your brother round the table too. Let’s just enjoy this evening, shall we?’ He drained his scotch and passed his glass to Jonathan. ‘Another one, son, if you wouldn’t mind.’
Sighing inwardly, Jonathan took both glasses back through to the sideboard in the living room. Jack couldn’t avoid Buckthorn forever, but it seemed he was determined to for tonight at least.