Read Online Green Grass by Raffaella Barker - Free Book Online Page A

pub,’ muses Laura. ‘But then—’
    â€˜I think we’re all past caring now, aren’t we?’ says Inigo sulkily, and Tamsin, with her radar sense for discord, looks at him and then at Laura with interest. Laura sighs, and the sigh becomes a yawn and then another sigh as if she is meditating. She gets up to break the pattern and clears the plates away.
    Inigo carefully removes his hand from the neckof the wine bottle he has been clasping. He has positioned the corkscrew so it is poised like a ballerina on the rim. But before anyone can exclaim at his brilliance, Laura reaches across past him for Fred’s plate and knocks the corkscrew flying.
    â€˜Mum,’ hisses Dolly. ‘Dad had to think his way into that and you just knocked it down.’
    Laura swallows her impatience ruefully, recognising that it is best to maintain an equilibrium even though every sense rails against it. She gives an apologetic half-smile, but Inigo just grins.
    â€˜Don’t worry, I can do it again.’
    Hedley has been preoccupied for the past few minutes; then his brow clears. ‘Oh, I’ve got it!’ he exclaims. ‘The drilling starts tomorrow, there are trees to plant, and we’ve also got some men with ferrets coming. You’ll like that, Fred, I think, won’t you?’
    â€˜Ferrets, great,’ says Fred, pushing back his chair and feeding most of his chicken pie to Diver.
    â€˜Not ferrets,’ groans Inigo at the same moment. ‘Honestly, Hedley, I don’t know why you put yourself through all these charades. Drilling your fields, irrigating the crops, planting endless trees, worrying about rabbits. What is the point?’ The twins and Tamsin, eyeing Hedley and Inigo scornfully, slide out from their places and troop back towards thetelevision. Laura wishes they would stay and talk, but cannot see any reason why they should.
    Hedley interrupts Inigo. ‘You’re a fine one to ask “What is the point?”. Your work wouldn’t stand up to much scrutiny with that as a criterion, would it? I mean, what a waste of bloody energy to go poncing around the world making bloody paper chains. I don’t see the point of contemporary art. It doesn’t make you think – in fact it’s an excuse not to.’
    Inigo ignores this unhelpful interruption and continues, ‘You may as well accept that your role as a farmer is non-existent. What you are is a custodian of a small part of Norfolk. One day you will be bought by a rich Japanese businessman who will pay you a salary in order that he can come and take photographs of you going through the motions of farming. That’s about as good as it will ever get, and that, I guarantee, is the future.’
    Hedley pours wine into his and Inigo’s glasses and looks at his brother-in-law with mild dislike, adjusting his look, when he remembers Inigo isn’t technically his brother-in-law, to one of stronger disdain.
    â€˜I don’t see why you can’t accept that there is a valid existence to be had in rural England,’ he says, determinedly keeping his tone well modulated and reasonable, as Laura has instructed him to do in his dealings with Tamsin, but is unable to resist aprovocative little jibe at the end: ‘And I haven’t heard your defence for your way of life either,’ he adds.
    Inigo’s eyes glitter and Laura isn’t sure if it’s the wine or the success of Hedley’s baiting.
    â€˜I don’t have to defend contemporary art,’ he says loftily. ‘Art has always been pilloried by philistines and it always will be. That doesn’t ever stop the creative process. No artist will be put down by detractors.’
    Hedley is astonished and quietly amused. ‘I must say, Inigo, you are quite something. I don’t know when I was last called a philistine – I’m a bloody Classics professor, in case you’d forgotten.’
    â€˜Oh,