Chapter One

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Chapter One

As my father and I left the old church, we walked towards the car and got in. "So, Daddy, how's the search going for a farm hand?" I asked as I buckled my seat belt.

"Great. I've found one and they're coming to the house tonight." My father replied whilst starting the engine. As we drove along the hilly countryside roads, I stared at the fields that loomed in to the horizon. The good thing about living in the country was that there was everything I needed: my family, friends, a church and a book store just around the corner.

When we pulled down the drive, I smiled. Seeing our wonderful farm was one of my favourite things, it always reminded me of my mother. She had helped make the farm what it was today. Walking down the front path you could see the lush green grass and sweet smelling flowers that my mother and father had spent a month planting and nourishing. The front of the house a beautiful sight to behold. The house was a two storey main building and a single story one coming from either side of it. It was built from sandstone bricks that were slightly worn from age with a gorgeous thatched roof. White paned windows were scattered across the house, each one waiting for the hand-made curtains to be drawn when dark. A strong, wooden door, stained a deep brown, sat at the front of the house with a black knocker, handle, and letter box, and a cute four pane window, just smaller than one's head, placed in the centre. We had one thousand and five hundred acres of land. It was full of sheep, cows, horses, and goats. We also had chickens and pigs.

Along with ten hired staff, all in their thirties and forties, my father had taken care of the farm for years. I always helped but he never let me work more than two hours a day. But now, my father was reaching forty and he wasn't able to get around as much after an accident he had had when he was younger. Daddy had decided, with some convincing on my part, that we needed to get some younger help. I mean, we always met deadlines but... well, it was hard. With all of the staff having to take a lot of breaks and moaning about their back pains and arthritis it took longer.

My father and I went our separate ways when we got in, going to change out of our church clothes. I pulled on a pair of jeans and a red plaid shirt. I then pulled my long honey blond hair in to a scruffy bun; my straight hair sat nicely when it was just pulled up without a care in the world. I left the mascara on my thick, curly lashes. My lashes always made my blue eyes look like pools of blue sapphire. I then went downstairs, put on a pair of black canvas trainers and caught a look at myself in the huge mirror in the hallway. It was such a simple look but I made it work. The top hugged me in the right places and the jeans made my legs look great. I smiled before going outside to go and collect the eggs, and milk a couple of cows. By hand, of course. Yeah, I know it takes longer, but I just love the old fashioned way.

After washing Daisy's - yes, I know, so obvious but, hey, I was six when I named her - udder, I put my stool down beside her, a bucket underneath and began to milk her. Squeezing her teats at the top and pulling down slightly, I got a steady flow of milk coming. When I thought she was done, I gently pressed my fingers in to her udder. Perfect! It was soft to the touch. Nicely done. I then milked two other cows before going and collecting the chicken eggs.

After I put the milk and eggs in their rightful places, I went inside to get a drink. I drank a nice, cool glass of orange juice before going in to my room to get a book. I then walked down the stairs and shouted "Daddy, I'm out by the stream!" up the stairs.

"Have fun." He called back to me from his study. I got the blanket from the hallway and went outside. After walking across several fields, I came to the small stream that trickled gently in between two of our fields. It was out of the way, and one of my favourite places.

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