Read Online The Wedding Cake Tree by Melanie Hudson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Melanie Hudson
Tags: Romance, Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, Contemporary Fiction, Contemporary Women, Women's Fiction
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up the Dale with Annie when it happened. He was only sixty-three … my goodness, around the age I am now. I was on leave in a village called Arisaig on the west coast of Scotland when it happened. The news didn’t reach me until the day of his funeral; obviously it was too late to get back.
I rushed home as soon as I could to find Mum sitting in Dad’s chair by the stove in the kitchen – a silent wreck. And, as for Annie, she threw years of jealousy and bitterness at me almost the second I walked through the door. Mum begged her to stop but I let her have her say – she needed to get it out. I said nothing (once words are spoken they can never be taken back) and I left the same day.
We weren’t aware at the time but Mum was also suffering from a heart condition and she passed away three years later. I made it back for the funeral this time. Annie decided to turn her fury into silent treatment, and once again I left immediately afterwards. I have never been back to Wensleydale and I have never seen or spoken to my sister since.
I could write reams about the whole sorry saga, but all you really need to know is that I had loving parents who failed to appreciate the consequences of the way they treated their offspring. I lived on a farm and I had a sister who, despite everything, I loved.
However, the main reason I sent you to the Dales is because as a child I firmly believed that Penhill was my very own mountain. I would grow terribly cross when hikers appeared over the brow, breathing my air and taking in my view. I was honed out of the very limestone that makes up the valleys, hills, caves and moorland that is all around you. The Yorkshire landscape shaped me as a person – it was my foundation.
As you look down into the Dale remember your grandfather fished in the River Ure (whenever he had the time), your grandmother travelled by bus up to Leyburn every Wednesday and your aunt was a shepherdess who walked a million miles over the farm’s two hundred acres with her beloved dogs by her side. And as for me? Well, I lived my youth running up and down Penhill, dreaming of another life, in another place.
I would give anything to be a young woman once more – to sit where you are now – to stand at the highest point of the hill, close my eyes and just let the breeze roll over me. In the summer I would sometimes run up the hill after dinner and sit waiting for the sun to set. I do love Penhill so very much, which is why I believe that a little part of me still belongs there.
Enjoy every moment, my darling.
Mum
PS As you travel around the country have a good look at the sky; it’s a different kind of blue wherever you go. I’m sorry I never showed you this in person. Oh, and if you see Annie, ask her to show you my tree. Dad planted it for me when I left home; I think it was his way of saying thank you … for giving Annie the farm.
PPS You can open the second letter now.
A little bemused, I looked up at the sky, then turned to Alasdair who had perched himself on a boulder a little way up the hill. He mouthed ‘Okay?’ I nodded and opened letter number two.
A little bit about Alasdair Finn
You must be wondering why I asked Alasdair to travel with you.
As you know, some of the soldiers who go to St Christopher’s suffer from combat stress. I have tried to help them all, but have always appreciated the need to remain detached – Alasdair was different. His first visit to the retreat was not for himself. He brought a friend called Alex who had been injured in Afghanistan. They spent two weeks with us and I began to realise that their time away was just as beneficial for Alasdair as for Alex. Over time we became good friends. He would pitch up at the cottage, often unannounced, always insisting that he had just nipped in to see Jake and me (but really, who ‘nips’ to North Devon?). I tried to get him to open up about some of the horrors he had witnessed
I rushed home as soon as I could to find Mum sitting in Dad’s chair by the stove in the kitchen – a silent wreck. And, as for Annie, she threw years of jealousy and bitterness at me almost the second I walked through the door. Mum begged her to stop but I let her have her say – she needed to get it out. I said nothing (once words are spoken they can never be taken back) and I left the same day.
We weren’t aware at the time but Mum was also suffering from a heart condition and she passed away three years later. I made it back for the funeral this time. Annie decided to turn her fury into silent treatment, and once again I left immediately afterwards. I have never been back to Wensleydale and I have never seen or spoken to my sister since.
I could write reams about the whole sorry saga, but all you really need to know is that I had loving parents who failed to appreciate the consequences of the way they treated their offspring. I lived on a farm and I had a sister who, despite everything, I loved.
However, the main reason I sent you to the Dales is because as a child I firmly believed that Penhill was my very own mountain. I would grow terribly cross when hikers appeared over the brow, breathing my air and taking in my view. I was honed out of the very limestone that makes up the valleys, hills, caves and moorland that is all around you. The Yorkshire landscape shaped me as a person – it was my foundation.
As you look down into the Dale remember your grandfather fished in the River Ure (whenever he had the time), your grandmother travelled by bus up to Leyburn every Wednesday and your aunt was a shepherdess who walked a million miles over the farm’s two hundred acres with her beloved dogs by her side. And as for me? Well, I lived my youth running up and down Penhill, dreaming of another life, in another place.
I would give anything to be a young woman once more – to sit where you are now – to stand at the highest point of the hill, close my eyes and just let the breeze roll over me. In the summer I would sometimes run up the hill after dinner and sit waiting for the sun to set. I do love Penhill so very much, which is why I believe that a little part of me still belongs there.
Enjoy every moment, my darling.
Mum
PS As you travel around the country have a good look at the sky; it’s a different kind of blue wherever you go. I’m sorry I never showed you this in person. Oh, and if you see Annie, ask her to show you my tree. Dad planted it for me when I left home; I think it was his way of saying thank you … for giving Annie the farm.
PPS You can open the second letter now.
A little bemused, I looked up at the sky, then turned to Alasdair who had perched himself on a boulder a little way up the hill. He mouthed ‘Okay?’ I nodded and opened letter number two.
A little bit about Alasdair Finn
You must be wondering why I asked Alasdair to travel with you.
As you know, some of the soldiers who go to St Christopher’s suffer from combat stress. I have tried to help them all, but have always appreciated the need to remain detached – Alasdair was different. His first visit to the retreat was not for himself. He brought a friend called Alex who had been injured in Afghanistan. They spent two weeks with us and I began to realise that their time away was just as beneficial for Alasdair as for Alex. Over time we became good friends. He would pitch up at the cottage, often unannounced, always insisting that he had just nipped in to see Jake and me (but really, who ‘nips’ to North Devon?). I tried to get him to open up about some of the horrors he had witnessed
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