Jenny of Oldstones Farm
Chapter 1
Tap tap tap
When it rained it was like she was back there all over again, cold and wet from the storm.
The taxi couldn't get any closer due to the traffic, so she'd had to run.
Tap tap tap.
Her father grasped her shoulder, "He doesn't have long . . . say goodbye, darling."
She walked towards her grandpa's bedside.
"Grandpa?"
"J-Jenny . . . ?" His voice was thin too, little more than a breath with a hint of sound to it.
Tap tap tap
Her grandpa tried to sit up and Jenny hurried to stop him, "Stay there, grandpa, I'm here."
"We're all here now, dad . . ." said her dad, his voice trembled in a way that made Jenny's eyes heat up.
Her grandpa lifted a hand towards her, the wrist peeking out of his shirtsleeve was too thin, for such a strong man. She held his hand in hers, a hand once so rough from hard work as a farmer, had become so soft.
"I'm so glad . . . I get to see you once more, before I go." he whispered.
"Dad, no," said Jenny's dad.
Tap tap tap tap
"Ohh, my poor boy. Don't cry . . ." He raised his other hand falteringly and Jenny's father caught it, bending his head over it to hide his tears. "This is not the end, I am sure we'll be together again . . ." He was quiet a moment, his eyes shut. He opened them again, looking determined, "Haven't I always told you all . . . ? I said I would . . . watch over my family, and my beloved farm. I won't . . . be far away at all. I will be . . . with you."
Jenny's father crumpled, her mother went to him, holding him in her arms, "Shhh," she was saying, "Shhhh, say what you have to say, say your 'I love you's' and 'goodbye'."
"I . . . love you, dad!" cried Jenny's father. Suddenly they were all crying.
"I love you grandpa," wept Jenny.
Tap tap tap
"I love you too, my dears . . ." his gaze drifted, flitting about the room, ". . . Tibbs . . . ?"
"Grandpa?"
He tossed his head from side to side, "But . . . where is Sergeant . . . Tibbs?"
"Shepard!"
"SHEPARD!"
Tap tap taptaptap
Jane "Jenny" Shepard woke up with a start, it took a moment of blinking to realise where she was and that the tapping noise wasn't rain pelting her grandfather's roof, or even the office window. It was her horrible manager, Alfred, tapping his foot irritably.
Yoba . . . She'd fallen asleep at work.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Taking a little nap, Shepard?"
"I am so sorry Sir!"
"If you can take a little nap, you can take a little pay cut."
"It'll never happen again, Sir." There was no use pleading with this monster. He'd been paying Jenny a lot of undue attention lately. Compliments and insults fell from his mouth in turn, and his pseudo casual touches were putting her back up.
'Grey wall,' she often thought. Be uninteresting, and the predator will leave.
Her manager's reptilian gaze drifted over her face, his hands twisted the pen he always carried, and she heard the plastic creak. It made her jump, and he smiled a brittle smile, and simpered "Well . . . I suppose I can let this slide just this once – If – you let me buy you a drink, this weekend?"
"Err – N –" Jenny struggled to formulate a polite NO, "- Yes. Um, Okay."
No, no, no, a thousand times no.
"Good girl. Get back to work." Her smirking manager went on his way, screaming the name of some other poor sap.
Ugh. She'd make up some excuse not to go.
Jenny got back to work in case he came by again.
Tap tap tap, went her keyboard, but her mind was elsewhere. It had been elsewhere for the last week. It hadn't stopped raining on and off, so she'd been sleeping badly, having nightmares – and all about the same thing . . . Stones Farm, and her grandpa's death.
And Sergeant Tibbs, just who on earth was that? An old friend? An old war buddy? No one had known. He'd asked for Tibbs all the up until the end, and he'd lost lucidity by then, so questions caused distress. But something about it had bothered Jenny.
Yes, as the doctors said, an old memory could have bubbled up and worried him, but . . . there was something about the name
Glancing out of her cubicle, she stopped typing and picked up her cold coffee. As she sipped she looked at the family picture on her desk. She'd tried not to look at it this past year, but now she couldn't tear her eyes away. There was her grandfather sitting on the step of his tiny farmhouse. Her mother and father sat either side of him and Jenny stood behind, her arms around his neck. They were all smiling.
It was a photo from one of the few times they'd holidayed at Stardew Valley. In this photo, she'd been eight, and it was their second attempt at camping there. The first time they camped there the rocks had poked them all night, so the second time they took an inflatable mattress – and there was a huge storm.
The wind tore at their tent, and the heavy rain had flooded it. They'd spent a week on the floor in her grandfather's little farmhouse - little more than a Shepherds Hut. It rained heavily the whole time. Jenny couldn't remember anything except playing board games and watching cookery programs on the tiny grainy TV. And, what was it? There was something else she did, something fun. Did they have the dog then? No, they got the dog afterwards.
Jenny gave the photo a watery smile and put her coffee down, intending to go back to work, but she did a double take.
There, her grandfather's hand was down by his foot and peeking above the weeds was-
"SHEPARD!"
Holy shit, she was not with it today.
Alfred was back, he seemed incredulous, "Get back to work!"
"Sorry, Sir!" Jenny typed furiously, squinting at the dull screen.
"Don't let me catch you slacking again!"
"Never again, Sir!"
"Good girl," he stroked her back, and was gone before she could react.
She shuddered in revulsion. She was starting to realise why people quit their jobs.
Her manager stalked away, she tried to keep working, but she had to know. She grabbed the photo, and looked.
A cat.
Her grandfather had his hand resting on the head of a happy little orange cat, its face poking out of the weeds. It . . . couldn't be? How long did cat's live?
She closed her eyes and massaged her temples, another memory coming to her. Her father handing her the phone, and telling her "Its grandpa." He had wanted to know something, he needed – a name. A name for his cat! And she'd told him – Sergeant Tibbs!
Her grandfather had a cat, and they'd completely forgotten. Pongo– Their old dog! They got a puppy and whenever they visited the farm, the cat hid, they never saw it. Jenny covered her face. Her eyes were hot, her stomach was sinking. Was the poor thing dead?
"But . . . where is Sergeant . . . Tibbs?"
"SHEPARD!"
"WHAT?" Shouted Jenny, suddenly. She stood, standing eye to eye with her manager. Alfred blinked at her with watery eyes, she stared him down, heart pounding. What was she doing? Jenny didn't know.
"N-nothing." Alfred stuttered. He walked away staring back at her over his shoulder. Jenny stared after him, feeling faint. His expression was getting darker with every step.
Had she just quit? Or was she about to get fired if she didn't quit?
She put on her coat and grabbed the photo, stashing it in her bag. She left the cubicle and looked suspiciously around. She caught sight of Alfred in one of the observation windows, gesticulating wildly to their supervisor, Morris.
Jenny slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked briskly through the cubicles. Not one of her co-workers looked up as she passed. She almost ran to the elevator doors, but didn't want to catch Alfred's attention if possible. It seemed to take hours to reach the lobby, and then she was leaving into the rain without looking back.
'I will never, ever come back here.' She thought, and felt lighter for it.