The Llama Farm on New Moon Lane by Laura Briggs

Author:Laura Briggs [Briggs, Laura]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: .ISBNincl, Animals, Farm Life
ISBN: ASIN: B0C34FTP8H
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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The lane to Deborah's cottage branched to the left of New Moon Lane on the way to Lucy's farm cottage — to her right at this moment, as she stood at the crossroads facing Darby way. She held the ceramic bread pan wrapped in its towel, which contained a jar of soup instead of bread.

It wasn't right, probably. She couldn't think of anything else to bring, however. With deep reticence, she turned to the right. The only way out would be to waylay Dave and ask him to return it.

At the top of the drive, outside a cottage with a lush country garden in the making already, with a vine arching over the entry gate. Two dogs, a shepherd and a corgi, which had been asleep behind some shrubs, burst out along the path, wagging their tails. They followed Lucy the rest of the way to the house, where Lucy found a bell by the door.

"You didn't have to rush it back, I have a shelf full of pans," said Deborah. "I thought you might appreciate a little country cooking, sort of a late welcome to the neighborhood. I usually make something to take to the newcomers, if I can."

"Thank you for the bread." Lucy held out the dish. "Here," she said. "I made some soup." Awkwardly, she felt now that she should have left it at home. She didn't know how to make things. In Reading, a coworker used to bring homemade biscuit recipes for tea breaks, and tried aggressively to coax everybody into taking a turn doing the same. Lucy had dreaded the idea. Did pre-packaged mixes count? Or must it be made original, or at least from a proper recipe, for instance?

"How lovely, thank you," said Deborah. "Vegetable, is it?" She inspected the jar before tucking it in the fridge.

"I made it. From a recipe." Lucy clarified, in case there should be a mistake about it. "The herbs in it are from the garden."

"I'm sure it's delicious," said Deborah. "I'm glad to hear that you're getting into the country ways. You're from the city — Reading, is it?"

"Yes, Reading," said Lucy.

Deborah poured water from the kettle on the hob into a teapot. "Sit down and have a cuppa. I was having one myself. I've been all morning in the garden, trying to root out the pachysandra, which has spread into my bed of perennial basil and peppermint."

Lucy, who had been thinking she might not have to stay, was uncertain. Deborah had taken down two cups from the cupboard. "Slice of cake, love?" she asked Lucy.

The cake was walnut and plum, with lavender mint tea. Lucy put her fork through one small cake slice, with fruit in soft rounds underneath the sugar crust. It was made from Deborah's own fruit, apparently. She had orchards out back, near the edge of the field, and a garden in the front, which had kept her busy since retiring.

"Growing things for pickling is my specialty," said Deborah. "Peppers, tomatoes, and cucumbers. I make my own salsa — much better than what's in the retail shops.

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