state of change for decades. But now the pace was speeding up so much that it had become a revolution, instead of evolution.
Dairy farmers like Matt Cooper were leaving the industry every week. It had become inevitable, ever since supermarkets reduced the price per litre of milk to the same as the cost of producing it. It had become impossible to make a living from milk production. Instead of the UK being self-sufficient, a large percentage of milk supplies were imported from Denmark or the Netherlands. Presumably those were countries where the market still allowed dairy farmers to earn a livelihood.
Bridge End Farm stood five miles out of Edendale, in a stretch of the Eden Valley where the land was good. The farm was reached down a rough, winding track that was dry and dusty in the summer, full of potholes that had been hastily repaired with compacted earth and the odd half-brick. When winter came, the first heavy rains would turn the track into a river, washing mud into the farmyard as water came rushing down the hillsides in torrents.
But now, in August, the tyres of Cooper’s Toyota threw up clouds of dust as he bounced the last few yards and rattled over a cattle grid into the yard.
The yard was still wet, where Matt had hosed away the freshly dropped cow manure left by the herd on their way back to pasture after afternoon milking. Ben had noticed that he wasn’t quite so particular as he used to be about cleaning up. Sometimes he even left the job until morning if he was called away to do something else.
But tonight there were visitors. Kate would never have let her husband get away with leaving the yard dirty. She knew that Ben was bringing Liz. There were a lot of things that Kate knew, without anyone having to tell her. Ben always went to his sister-in-law if he wanted to know anything. And he was fairly sure that his nieces, Amy and Josie, were growing up just like their mum. Wise beyond their years, those girls. They missed nothing.
He parked close to the farmhouse, opposite the Dutch barn and the tractor shed where Matt’s latest John Deere stood. An old grey Fergie used to live in the shed, too – Matt’s pride and joy, the object he had lavished more time and attention on than he did Kate. But the Ferguson had gone the way of so many things. It was too much of a luxury. The cost of its restoration just couldn’t be justified in the farm accounts.
Matt could often be found tinkering with a bit of machinery at this time of the evening, but there was no sign of him outside. Ben felt sure he would have been cajoled into getting cleaned up for the evening and changing his clothes, and would now be waiting uncomfortably in the sitting room, itching to get his boots and cap back on, but too obedient to Kate’s wishes to rebel.
Of course, he wouldn’t have done it if it was just his brother arriving at the farm for dinner. But Liz was treated almost like visiting royalty. It always made Ben smile, yet feel the tug of grief and sadness at the same time. This was just the way his mother would have welcomed her, if she’d still been alive. But she hadn’t lived to see this moment.
As always, the big farmhouse kitchen smelled of cooking. Tonight he scented herbs and garlic, and the aroma of meat roasting in the oven of the range.
Matt was starting to look tired and middle-aged. Ben worried about the amount of stress his brother was coping with.
‘Well, I could have done without the extra work today,’ said Matt. ‘I mean, it’s harvest time. I’m out in the fields all hours as it is.’
‘Problem?’
‘Some bloody ramblers climbed the wall in the bottom field and knocked the coping stones down. They couldn’t be bothered walking down to the stile, I suppose. It’s all of a hundred yards away, after all. Ridiculous. They think open access means they can do whatever damage they like, and poor sods like me will go round after them picking up the pieces. If I’d caught them at it…’
He trailed off. It was a habit he had got into recently, and came with a sly sideways glance at his younger brother, a look that suggested he was afraid of saying too much. Ben was beginning to hate that look. It seemed to suggest more loudly than any words that his brother didn’t really trust him.
‘Didn’t you say that section of wall needed repairing anyway?’ he asked.
‘That has nothing to do with it.’
Ben raised a placatory hand. ‘Okay, okay.’
At one time, he would have spent a rest day helping to repair the walls at Bridge End. It was one of the jobs he could help Matt with around the place. But since he’d moved out of the farm and into his flat in Edendale, that habit had lapsed, just slipped out of his life without him really noticing.
Perhaps Matt had noticed, though. He hadn’t said anything about it, of course. They’d never said much to each other, had never really needed that form of communication, not since they were boys growing up at Bridge End together. They had come to understand each other without the necessity of words. A look was enough, a touch, or a shrug of the shoulder. So what had Matt understood from the fact that his brother no longer showed any interest in the farm?
Matt’s thoughts had been diverted, though. He started off on a long rant about the cost of everything these days. Fuel, feed, fertiliser…
But Kate wasn’t so easily distracted.
‘Ben, it’s good to see you both. But I’ve a feeling there’s some particular reason you’ve called.’
He and Liz glanced at each other. She gave him a small nod, and squeezed his hand encouragingly.
‘We’re getting engaged. We’re going to be married.’
‘Well, I thought you were never going to announce it. You’ve taken your time,’ said Kate. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’
She jumped up, kissed Ben and then Liz.
‘Matt…?’
‘Oh, yes. Congratulations.’
‘Of course, I’d like you to be best man, Matt.’
Matt’s mouth was hanging open, like a bull calf shot through the head with a captive bolt pistol. That stunned second before the legs gave way. But surely the possibility must have crossed his mind at some time?
‘He’ll be delighted,’ said Kate, trying to cover the silence. ‘I told him ages ago that you’d ask him. But I don’t think he believed me.’
‘When will it be?’ asked Matt. ‘Not in September?’
‘Matt, it couldn’t possibly be so soon.’
‘Or November?’
‘No, of course not. Look, I know what you’re saying…’
‘It’ll be next summer, probably,’ said Liz.
Ben turned to her. ‘Will it?’
‘Well, no one wants a winter wedding. It’s too cold to do the photographs outside. And it always rains.’
‘It rains in July and August too,’ said Matt. ‘Chucks it down, just when we’re getting ready for harvest. You can’t rely on the summer.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘And is it…?’ began Matt.
‘Yes? What?’
‘Not a church wedding,’ said Liz. ‘We’ve decided it will be in a nice hotel somewhere. There are so many places that do civil weddings now, and it means we can have the reception at the same venue, so there’s no running around.’
Ben nodded. He couldn’t remember deciding that, but it sounded like a good idea.
‘I meant, what we will all be wearing?’
Now Ben laughed. That was typical of his brother. He was mostly worried about having to get out of his cap and overalls and put on a suit and tie.
‘Top hat and tails, of course,’ he said. ‘We’ve got to do it properly.’
‘Oh, shit.’
And then Ben noticed that Liz and Kate weren’t laughing, but nodding vigorously.
‘Absolutely,’ said Liz. ‘The full works.’
After dinner, Ben excused himself and left the dining room to go to the bathroom. On his way back, he
