Working with Dad

The cold November wind was cutting straight through my thick waterproof jacket, pushing all the warm air in my fluffy thermal shirt into the wrong places and sending an icy chill straight to my skin. I tried not to show it as I watched the dirty green tractor make a slow turn at the bottom of the field, carefully following the muddy track that ran along the hedgerow and turning towards me.

I gave Dad a wave which he returned, lifting two fingers off the wheel to acknowledge he'd seen me, then I jammed my hands into my pockets and hunched my shoulders, trying to keep the cold wind off my neck. The top field was always bitterly cold when there was a wind up, and today was no exception. There had been a frost that morning and no leaves were left on the trees which sporadically grew out of the stark hedge, and when I slowed my breathing, trying to put mind over matter and imagine myself warm, I watched a solitary crow swoop out of the branches of a tree and start scavenging in the freshly ploughed field.

"You look cold, Danielle, love!" Dad yelled from his cab as he pulled up, diesel engine roaring and mud dripping from the tyres.

"I feel cold, Dad," I replied with a smile. "Should've put on gloves when we came out."

I reached out with a bare hand and grabbed the metal of the tractor, hauling myself up and through the glass door to get in next to Dad. He had the heater on and over the muddy smell I could smell his aftershave, which he used to mask the usual smell of a farmer at work.

Dad rubbed a browned hand over his stubbly jaw. "I would've liked to have got started on the sheep field but we're losing the light and you probably need to get back, if you're going to go out tonight." He glanced at me as he navigated the tractor through a gap in the hedge and into the next field. This was the sheep field, although it hadn't had sheep in it in all the nineteen years I'd been alive. Tradition kept the name alive and Dad loved the tradition of the farm.

"I've got time, don't worry," I assured him, although when I looked at the clock on the dashboard it was perfectly clear I didn't really. Dad sensibly ignored my protest and turned again, the low red glow of the setting sun making his hair look more of a chestnut colour than the usual deep browny-black. He was getting some flecks of grey in there but some ancestor had gifted him a great hair gene and even at forty-five he still looked ten years younger. He attributed it to plenty of fresh air, in his usual way.

"Don't worry, love, I've been meaning to give the fertiliser man a call anyway and if I go back to the house now I should have time," he explained, putting his foot down and letting the engine roar again, bouncing over the uneven track towards the farmhouse.

I didn't reply, I just felt grateful for the warmth of the cab. It was Saturday, although there were no such things as weekends on the farm, and I'd got plans to meet my best friend Mandy, whose real name was Samantha, and share a lift into the local town to go drinking and try to meet some lads. Mandy had a vague contact with a local rugby team who said they'd be out tonight, and although I'd told myself I wouldn't get excited, the idea of an evening with a good-looking rugby player sounded much nicer than studying my business textbooks in my room.

I'd left my phone in the house as taking it out on the farm generally meant dropping it in a muddy puddle, and when we got back I had a message from Mandy.

Mandy: Let me know when you're on your way x I've got some numbers for taxis to take us home later but I might not need them if I'm bouncing on some ripped guy all night...

Dani: you're disgusting as always babe x just got in so give me half an hour to come over

Mandy and her parents, Ryan and Olivia, and little brother Harvey, farmed the next farm over from ours. We were Ash Tree Farm, they were Hope Farm, and I'd known Mandy since we were in nappies. I loved Ash Tree, farming and my dad, and ever since Mum had died when I was ten we'd been a team - plus Derek, the farmhand who worked five days a week for us. Mandy wasn't as much of a farm girl as I was, and whilst I was studying business management at college so I could run the farm one day, Mandy was studying hairdressing.

"Don't mind the mess, Harvey got back covered head to toe in mud," Mandy explained when I arrived at Hope Farm, a giant holdall slung over my shoulders with my going-out clothes in. It had been a cold walk up the road in the dusk but it felt worth it to be inside with the farmhouse fire roaring and Olivia drying muddy boots on a rack.

"Hi Dani, lovely to see you," Olivia said, giving me a hug once I'd wrestled myself out of my coat. "Ryan'll run you down into town when you girls are ready to go."

"Will he now?" Ryan asked, grinning at me before leaning over to give Olivia a kiss. He was a tall man with silver-grey hair, the same weather-beaten skin my dad had and a permanent smile on his face. Olivia was like an older version of Mandy, although she dyed her hair blonde these days and had some more laughter lines. Mandy hadn't inherited her dad's height, and she and Olivia were petite and curvy.

Mandy's room was a tip, with most of the floor area covered in clothes and discarded makeup. She sat me down squarely in front of her dressing table mirror and said for the hundredth time, "I just love your hair, there's so much you can do with it. Mine is so thin and breaks so easily." I'd got my dad's hair, the thick black colour, and Mandy had always been jealous.

I spent an enjoyable fifteen minutes painting my fingernails whilst Mandy did my hair with tons of hairspray, then she did her own hair and I got dressed. Living on a farm ten miles from the nearest shop seriously limits your fashion options, so online shopping was a godsend and I modelled my form-fitting black-and-white striped dress for Mandy who watched admiringly.

"I can't decide between the gold and the purple," Mandy said, pulling two identical dresses out of plastic bags to show me. "I'll return whichever one I don't wear."

"Purple, definitely," I told her. "The gold is too pale, it'll wash your hair out."

Mandy looked critically at the dresses. "You're probably right. Let me try this one on."

Mandy's problem with off-the-peg dresses was that they were never designed to fit her bust, and even the most flattering bras usually left plenty of cleavage spilling out. I was moderately proud of my C-cups and my dress was showing them off pretty well, but any guy we happened to meet would always notice Mandy's chest first. This purple one was no exception and after five minutes of wrestling in front of the mirror, she was finally satisfied with the way everything sat. I pushed my feet into heels, knowing I'd be regretting it by the end of the night.

"You'll freeze to death in those dresses, girls," Olivia warned us when we came back downstairs. "Take a coat."

Mandy rolled her eyes. "Yeah, my muddy coat will really complete my look," she said back, and Ryan laughed as he twirled the key of his pickup on his finger.

"Come on, let's go," he said, to keep the peace. "If you get too cold then maybe you'll learn your lesson."

It only took fifteen minutes to drive into town, downhill all the way, and Ryan dropped us right in the market square.

"If you get stranded, I'll leave my phone on tonight," he reassured Mandy as we climbed out.

It was actually warmer down here in the valley than it had been up on the farm and I didn't feel as cold as I thought, although my bare legs were definitely chilly and I looped my arm through Mandy's so I could squish up next to her.

"Let's start in Goldie's, there's usually someone to buy us a drink in there," Mandy suggested, and we picked carefully over the cobbles in the direction of the Golden Crown public house. Goldie's was usually an older crowd, a mixture of crusty old blokes who'd lived here since forever and middle-aged couples drinking lagers and wines, but there were limited options in town so you had to take what you could get. At least it was warm inside and, after Mandy had lingered by the bar for ninety seconds with her chest pushed out, the barman came over with two cocktails.

"Courtesy of the two gentlemen over there," he said, pointing to the other end of the bar, looking bored.

The two gentlemen in question were both at least forty, possibly older, and looked like out-of-towners here on holiday. Mandy sipped her cocktail and gave them a thank-you wave, and pretty soon the two blokes slid along the bar to talk to us.

"You two out for some fun tonight?" the shorter of the two men asked, hooking his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans.

"We're not tarts," Mandy said, darkly.

The men guffawed.

"Sorry love, didn't mean to cause offence," the man said, eyeing up Mandy's tits. "I just meant, you're not here waiting for your boyfriends, are you?"

I shook my head. "No boyfriends," I said, and the taller man looked my way.

"I'm Kevin," he said, smiling. "If you don't mind my saying, you look just like my ex-wife did when she was your age, except you're much more beautiful."

I smiled at him, even though the line was revolting. His friend was full-on flirting with Mandy now, who twirled the straw in her cocktail and giggled at his jokes.

"Are you local, or just here for a night out?" Kevin asked, and I could smell the lager on his breath.

"Night out," I shrugged. "Got nothing better to do on a Saturday."

He grinned inanely at me.

"You here on holiday?" I asked, throwing him a bone.

"Golfing, yeah, just a few of us come up," he nodded. "Played a course today and got another tomorrow."

After ten minutes of golf had bored me rigid, Mandy tugged my arm gently.

"Need to go to the ladies'" she said, and I put my empty glass on the bar. "Back in a bit."

We both knew Goldie's had a back door out to the beer garden, and the blast of cold when we went out was almost welcome after the heated interior of the pub. We walked around the side gate and went up the street, abandoning Goldie's and making a beeline for the Queen's Arms, which did live music and generally had a younger crowd.

"Good riddance," Mandy said as we walked. "The guy couldn't string a sentence together without mentioning that he has a Mercedes."

"Mine was all about golf," I shrugged. "Typical Goldie's."

The Queen's was where we'd hoped to meet the rugby lads so we bought our own drinks and found a table in a corner to wait and see if they turned up. The live music was a woman with a guitar singing folk music, which got polite applause after each song but wasn't exactly filling the dancefloor. I caught up with Mandy, who gave me the latest in her family saga of her mum trying to get Harvey to take his school exams seriously instead of just mucking around with his mates and assuming he'd work on the farm with his dad. By the time we were on our fourth round and we were starting to get a bit giggly, it was obvious that the rugby boys weren't coming, and every other good-looking bloke in the place had his arm around his girlfriend.

"No hope," Mandy said sadly as we stepped back out into the frigid atmosphere outside. "Final try up at the Three Geese?"

The Geese was usually much quieter as it had a hotel attached, so the chances of finding anyone in there seemed small. As we walked down the street towards the illuminated sign, a bloke in paint-splattered overalls stepped towards us with a friendly wave.

"Eyup Dani," Derek said, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Hiya Derek, we're having a night out," I told him, relieved to see a friendly face. Derek was in his sixties and was the nicest bloke you could ever hope to meet. He and my dad went back decades.

"Not a very successful one," Mandy pouted.

"Sorry to hear that," Derek replied cheerfully. "You lasses are always so careful with your face paint and dressing up, it seems a shame none of the local lads appreciate it."

"That's life," I shrugged. "What've you been doing?"

"Bit of painting round the back of the hotel," he said. "They always pay well and there's a free pint after. Here, I'm heading back home your way, you two need a lift?"

I looked at Mandy. Cutting the night short seemed a shame, but the alternative was an unreliable taxi or a midnight call to Mandy's dad.

"Thanks, Derek, we appreciate it," I smiled.

Half an hour later, we were stumbling through the farmhouse kitchen at Hope Farm, lit only by the glow of the dying fire and reeking of wet boots. We suppressed giggles because Mandy had seen a weird-looking tree on the route home which was the kind of thing that was hilarious after five cocktails.

"Ssshh," Mandy said, kicking off her heels at the foot of the stairs. I did the same, almost toppling over, and we tried to quietly creep up to her bedroom, but in reality we were probably more like a herd of elephants. A giggly herd of elephants.

"Can't believe we struck out," Mandy complained, using pads of cotton wool to remove her makeup. "Especially on a Saturday."

"It was your fault for relying on that rugby guy," I told her, unzipping my dress and letting it fall on the floor next to the bed. I had brought an old t-shirt and leggings to wear as pyjamas but in my drunken state I couldn't face getting them out of my bag, so I just climbed into Mandy's bed in my bra and knickers and lay on my back, willing the room to stop spinning.

"Don't blame me, which guys did you invite?" Mandy said, which was a good point, so I didn't reply. She heaved a sigh and climbed into bed next to me after taking off her dress too.

"We've always got each other," Mandy giggled, rolling onto her side and trying to hug me. I laughed and slapped her hands away.

"Speak for yourself, I've got my new boyfriend Kevin, just turned fifty with an ex wife, two kids and a golf obsession," I said back. Lying in bed with my bra on was uncomfortable so I was wondering about getting my t-shirt after all.

Mandy burst out laughing. "You know, it's been so long since I had a boyfriend for a moment I did actually consider my guy," she said, and I gasped.

"No way, that's awful," I laughed. "They were both so creepy."

Mandy shrugged and sat up, looking over at me. "I know it sounds ridiculous but an older guy isn't that weird. There are tons of girls in age gap relationships."

I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. "No, I can't even imagine it. They're like, old men, all saggy and blehhhh."

I peeked out of one eye as Mandy undid her bra and tossed it out of bed. "Oh, that feels a million times better," she said, lying back down and covering her tits with the blanket. "But seriously, you must have at least thought about it. Older guys are more mature, classier, got more money..."

I rolled onto my side and scrambled around to undo my bra too and slid it out of the side of the bed. Mandy was right, it was a million times better.

"Never considered it," I said flatly, shoving my hair to one side so I could lie on the pillow more comfortably.

"Oh come on, never? I can think of at least two older guys I'd fuck," Mandy said, and I burst into even more outraged giggles.

"Who?" I asked, biting my thumbnail to try and stop laughing and waking the whole house up.

"Mr Kingston, the rugby coach at college," Mandy said, promptly.

"Oh come on, he's probably only in his thirties and he's in great shape," I said, rolling my eyes. "Who's the other one?"

Mandy glanced over at me, still suppressing giggles. "Your dad."

"Ewwww," I said, and Mandy howled with laughter. I jabbed her in the ribs and she yelped.

"You're disgusting, Samantha," I said, shaking my head.

"I'm not even joking, your dad is fit," Mandy giggled. "You must have thought it."

"No way," I told her, turning away from her. "That's so weird."

"Girls," Mandy's mum's voice came through the door as she rapped on it. "Keep it down."

We both covered our mouths and tried to stop giggling and go to sleep. Mandy switched off the light but we were only lying there quietly for a few seconds.

"Oh my God, I forgot to tell you," Mandy said in the darkness, whispering now. "I forgot my coursework folder on Tuesday so I drove home at lunchtime to pick it up, and I walked in on my mum in nothing but a thong, wearing a blindfold," she said, and I couldn't help bursting into more helpless giggles.

"Nothing but a thong," I repeated, snorting with laughter. "What happened?"

"She must have thought I was dad, I gasped or something and she realised it was me," Mandy said, laughing. "So embarrassing. Can't believe she's so kinky."

"At least without my mum that is one thing I don't have to worry about," I told her, still laughing at the mental image of mumsy Olivia in sexy knickers and a blindfold.

"Has your dad ever dated anyone since?" Mandy asked, sounding curious as we fought down the giggles again.

"I don't think so," I said. "At least, I never knew about it. It would be nice if he found someone, though, but he's so busy with the farm."

"My dad has the farm and apparently still finds time for some lunchtime fun and games," Mandy giggled and I had to bite my knuckle to stop myself laughing out loud.

"You know what would work for your dad?" Mandy went on.

"What?" I asked, puzzled.

"I'll fuck him, that way we both get some," Mandy said, and I reached out behind me to jab her again, but she moved out of my way too fast.

"Stop it, it's not funny," I told her.

"Oh come on, Dani, if you're jealous then you fuck him," Mandy said, barely able to choke the sentence out she was laughing so much.

"You're so disgusting," I repeated, trying to ignore her.

"Seriously, though, you already live with him so you could be getting fucked by a fit guy every night, and probably every morning, too. It's a great idea," Mandy went on.

"You're talking about me fucking my dad, you're sick," I told her, kicking out with my leg and successfully cracking my heel into her shin.

"You'll thank me later," she said, biting back her laughter, and we had half a second of silence before my mental image of Olivia resurfaced.

"Nothing but a thong," I snorted and Mandy collapsed into fresh giggles.

"Seriously, shut up or we'll get bollocked," she said, kicking me back.

I felt like someone had played drum 'n bass on my head all night and vacuumed my mouth, and all I could manage in terms of breakfast at Hope Farm was half an orange and some coffee. Olivia didn't look especially sympathetic, particularly when Mandy and I got the giggles again and she dribbled coffee down her white pyjama top.

"I'll have to get that stain out, I suppose," Olivia tutted. "You two don't act like nineteen year olds very often, more like nine year olds."

Head pounding, I took a bottle of water to drink on my way home, but when I got back to Ash Tree farm, Dad was already out in the fields somewhere and the house was empty. As usual, he hadn't locked the back door so I just let myself in, finished the water, dumped the bottle in the recycling and went to run myself a really hot bath - my favourite hangover cure.

I could spend hours in the bath but it wasn't often that, between college and helping Dad, I had time to do it, but this morning the only thing I was supposed to be doing was revising and I would learn nothing with a hangover. So I indulged, scrubbing myself from head to foot with coconut soap and shaving my legs before filling the bath again and lying back, eyes closed, ignoring the dull throbbing in my head.

My mind wandered as I was lying there, flitting between exam question techniques we'd been discussing at college the week before, an issue Dad was having draining the bottom field in the winter, and wondering whether I should apply to uni after my college course or not. In the end, I couldn't shake a lingering feeling of being horny, and I knew Dad would be out until lunchtime at the earliest, so I grabbed the shower head and pushed it down between my thighs.