Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage (18 page)

Chapter 35

Linda’s cleaner Hilda always arrived half an hour before she was due to start work so she could have a cup of tea and a natter with Iris. It was something they both looked forward to so they could put the world to rights in that time. Most of it, at any rate; but the matter of the Pawsons’ hold over young Freddie was one problem too far.

Hilda stole a quick look at the clock on the wall as she sat at the dining table. She had OCD about time and had to start work on the Hewitt kitchen worktops at half-past one. If the house had suddenly burst into flames at twenty-five past, Hilda wouldn’t have been dragged out by ten burly firemen until she’d cleaned the granite surface clear of fingerprints.

‘When’s Andy home then?’ asked Hilda, waving away the offer of some Walkers Shortbread.

‘Not until next month,’ sighed Iris. ‘Obviously we haven’t told him Rebecca’s being a madam because we don’t want to worry him. He has to keep his mind on his job, doesn’t he?’

‘I’m glad my lad is a builder and not a soldier,’ said Hilda, shaking her head slowly from side to side. ‘I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.’ She turned her attention back to the matter at hand. ‘But there isn’t a force in heaven or hell that would keep me away from my grandkids.’

Iris slammed her hand flat down on the table, making Hilda jump. ‘I’m going to have to step in, aren’t I?’

Hilda blanched. She didn’t want the responsibility of inciting Iris into action. Iris, she imagined, would be a loose cannon in a situation like this. There would be a definite shortage of any tact or diplomacy. ‘Now hold your fire a minute, Iris. What I’d do and what you should do are totally different. Leave it to your Linda and Dino.’

‘Dino won’t do anything. He says that if he goes up there and starts on them, it’ll be wrong with him being a man and them being women, and Linda is scared stiff to rock the boat so she won’t take the risk.’

‘Then you should remember that you could make things a lot worse,’ warned Hilda, a note of panic rising in her usually calm voice.

‘Aye, but I could make them better as well. I could talk calmly woman to woman to that old cow of a mother of hers.’ Iris’s eyes were glittering as her brain whirred behind them spitting out sparks. ‘She’s more my age than Linda’s.’

The way Iris’s face screwed up as she referred to Enid Pawson didn’t exactly inspire Hilda with confidence that any meeting between them would go down well.

‘You listen and listen good, Iris Caswell. Stay out of it or you’ll regret it. You promise me you will.’

Iris sniffed. ‘All right, all right, I’ll stay out of it,’ she said. ‘If you think that’s best, Hilda. I don’t want to cause any trouble.’

Hilda nodded with relief.
Thank God for that
, she thought.

But Iris’s gunpowder was lit and fizzing. One was never too old for crossing fingers behind one’s back when telling a lie.

Chapter 36

Through the window, as she was washing up the frying pan, Viv watched Heath walking towards the cottage. His shoulders looked huge in the checked shirt he was wearing. But then he needed huge shoulders to carry the burden he presently had to bear. She wondered what he would do when the sanctuary closed. Go back to being a full-time vet in a regular practice, she supposed, which wasn’t a bad life. He’d be loaded, for one thing, based on the evidence of what they charged every time Basil needed any treatment. He suited this setting, she could tell that, even after their short acquaintance. But she did wonder if he resented having the responsibility of the sanctuary thrust on him. Maybe having his hand forced might release him from those duties so he could enjoy a life that surely would be a lot less hard work.

Pilot had trotted out to meet him and was now escorting him in, periodically looking up at him like a sheepdog waiting for a command. He too was blissfully unaware that his forever home was a misnomer.

Heath paused by the door to kick off his massive wellingtons. He filled the door when he stood in it, inhaling Viv’s cooking. ‘That smells good,’ he said.

‘It’s only a glorified omelette,’ said Viv. ‘I doubt it’s anything of the standard Geraldine supplies.’

But Viv had to admit to herself that she hadn’t done a bad job. The ingredients were all from their land: spring onions, the peppers growing in a stone trough at the side of the door, chives standing proud in their pots on the windowsill, the potatoes dug up from the back garden and stored in sacks in the cool cellar, the tomatoes from the greenhouse, and the eggs of course from the rescued chickens. The cheese was from the local farm, a strong nutty cheddar with a hint of sweetness which became stretchy when melted. Heath tucked in hungrily and almost caught Viv staring at him as he ate. He didn’t look like a vet, thought Viv. He looked more like a bear-trapper, with his muscular arms and strong frame. She couldn’t imagine him giving ear-drops to hamsters.

‘So how old are you again?’ he asked, reaching for a second quadrant of the tortilla circle.

‘Twenty-three.’

‘You seem older.’

‘Thanks,’ and she tutted with dry amusement. She was going to reply that she’d had to grow up faster than a lot of kids, then realised that might lead her into an explanation of her mother’s illness, which he wouldn’t want to hear about. So she left it at that.

‘It wasn’t an insult.’

It was hardly a compliment either, to be fair, she thought.

‘I’m exactly ten months older than Antonia Leighton,’ she said.

He ceased chewing momentarily, then his jaw began to work again.

‘What relevance is that?’

Actually, Viv had no idea. She’d just said it without thinking. She thought Antonia Leighton looked older than her age, too. Yes, she was beautiful, but in a couple of years that default setting of a frown and downturned mouth would give her ‘lines of misery’ as her mother called them. But if she said that to Heath, it would sound like the bitchy comment it was. Viv thought it best to leave it.

‘I rang the hospital but the consultant hadn’t done his rounds. He was due any minute, the nurse said.’ Viv refilled their mugs with more tea.

‘Thank you. A hospital minute is at least an hour,’ replied Heath, stabbing a square of omelette as if he’d experienced many a ‘hospital minute’.

Which led Viv nicely to a gripe that had been niggling her. ‘I wish you’d rung yesterday to let me know how Geraldine was. I was worried. I didn’t know how badly she’d been hurt.’

Heath’s eyes flicked up to her face as if grossly affronted that he’d been rebuked. But some part of him must have taken on board that Viv did have a point.

‘I should have, you’re right,’ he said. ‘I apologise for that. My phone battery was flat, and Geraldine doesn’t have a mobile but that’s no excuse. I could have found a pay phone.’

And no doubt a part of him had still been cross with her, Viv guessed. Okay, so whilst she was in brave mode, she thought she’d ask the big question again. He was hardly going to throw her out for it, because he needed her.

‘Can’t Antonia Leighton help you?’

Heath’s fork clattered onto his plate. ‘What?’ he replied.

Whoops
, thought Viv. Just when it had been going quite well. Maybe she’d strayed too far beyond the boundary asking this one. ‘Well, you and she obviously have a . . .’ She struggled to find the appropriate word that wouldn’t have him picking his fork back up and sticking it in her neck, ‘ . . . a . . . a . . . friendship.’

The timing couldn’t have been better. The house phone rang and Heath snatched it up from the dresser behind him. ‘Yes,’ he barked into it. The poor recipient was copping for his displaced anger, it seemed. ‘Yes, yes,’ his voice softer now. ‘I’ll be there in half an hour. Thank you. Bye.’ He put down the phone, picked up his empty plate and carried it over to the sink.

‘Geraldine’s ready to be collected,’ he said. ‘I’ll go and get her.’

‘Can I do anything to help?’ asked Viv. She didn’t want him looking at her with those hostile eyes. She’d rather be facing Ursula than him at the moment.

Heath ignored the question, walked to the door, stopped there, and turned back.

‘I’m grateful for your staying on, but a word of advice: you ask too many questions for someone who is “just here to help”. You won’t make yourself any friends in Ironmist if you pry into the lives of the people here. We don’t owe strangers any answers.’

Then he picked up his boots at the side of the doormat and walked out, closing the door so Pilot couldn’t follow him, leaving Viv wondering what the hell he meant by all that.

Chapter 37

Stel deleted Ian’s number and with it the tinkly ring tone she’d assigned to it so she knew instantly that it was him if he phoned or texted. She wouldn’t be messed around, she decided, as she switched off her monitor at home time. Why did Ian fill her up with so much hope that he was looking forward to seeing her at work on Monday, only for him to blatantly ignore her? Once she’d said her ‘goodnight, see you tomorrows’ and was sitting in her car, the scaffolding holding up her composure fell apart. The tears which had been building behind her eyes all day began to spill over. Hadn’t she learned by now that she wasn’t destined for a happy ending? Then, as she slotted her key into the ignition, her phone rang in her handbag.

She fumbled to find it, dropped it, picked it up again and looked at the screen to see a number she didn’t recognise. But didn’t Ian’s end in 3-0? She pressed connect just before it went to voicemail.

‘Hello, hello,’ she said, not even trying to sound cool, calm and collected.

‘Stel?’

It was
him
. Her tears dried up instantly as if the car was a giant microwave oven.

‘Ian?’ She felt as if a light had switched on in her heart.

‘Yes, it’s me. How are you? I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to see you today. I drew the short straw and had to go and pick plants out in Huddersfield. Normally that’s not a short straw, but I’d rather have stayed behind today. No prizes for guessing why.’

‘Oh, no worries,’ Stel wished she didn’t sound as if she’d been crying. ‘I presumed you were busy.’

‘Have you got a cold?’

‘No, no, I’ve just had a sneezing fit. I think I’m allergic to my new car air freshener.’
Too much detail
, she thought, admonishing herself.
Why didn’t she just shut up after the sneezing fit bit?

‘I missed my coffee break with you,’ Ian said.

‘I missed seeing you for coffee, too,’ said Stel, aware that she was gushing and not caring.

‘Well . . .’ Pause. ‘I was going to suggest . . .’ Even longer pause.

Oh please, please suggest another date
, Stel begged the heavens above.
I can be ready in half an hour.

‘ . . . How about having lunch with me in the garden tomorrow. I’ll supply the sandwiches.’

‘Oh . . . lovely.’ That gap between the two words was shouting of disappointment.

‘I’m going to spend time with my mum tonight. It’s her birthday. Otherwise we could . . . oh well, not to be. Can’t let her down.’

‘Of course, I understand,’ enthused Stel. ‘Tomorrow is great.’

‘I’ll see you in the garden at twelve then. Hope you like home-made cake.’

‘I love it,’ said Stel. If Ian had said
hope you like raw pig’s testicles
, she would have given him the same answer.

‘See you tomorrow then.’

‘Have a good evening. With your mum.’

Stel put down the phone, a different woman to the one she had been five minutes previously. Yes, girl-power and all that, telling you not to let a man dictate your mood. It was all easier said than done. Cake, home-made cake at that, and a man who spent time with his mother. The idea of Ian Robson as a life partner just got better and better.

*

With Geraldine’s arrival came her beautiful floral scent flooding the kitchen. Viv still couldn’t put her finger on what that mystery aroma was that hid from her analysis. She’d work it out, it always came to her in the end, but without it, the replica she had created in her mini-lab was lacking.

‘Oh Heath, don’t fuss,’ said Geraldine, hobbling over to the armchair with a crutch under her arm. Her left leg was bandaged up to the knee and she was wearing a strapped medical sandal. Her right wrist was encased in plaster and suspended in a sling around her neck. ‘Hello, Viv. How lovely to see you.’ Geraldine’s smile was warm and genuine. Viv gave her a careful hug of greeting and helped Geraldine manoeuvre herself down onto the sofa.

‘Oh my, how wonderful it is to be back,’ said Geraldine, patting Pilot’s great head with her uninjured hand. ‘That’s a nice welcome, Pilot. Did you miss me, boy?’

‘Sounds like someone else did too,’ laughed Viv, watching Piccolo stride up and down the kitchen table with his ridiculous legs, chattering at three hundred decibels. Bub, however, was asleep in his basket and deigned to open his eyes briefly. That was all Geraldine was getting from him for the time being.

‘Cup of coffee?’ asked Viv, rushing over to the kettle, which had just started to whistle.

‘Oh yes please,’ said Geraldine with relish.

‘The lady at the Corner Caff came down half an hour ago with some buns for you,’ said Viv. ‘And she brought a card from Mr Mark and Mr Wayne. I think they’ve put a sign outside that you’re okay and were coming home today.’

Geraldine chuckled. ‘I hope they didn’t put one up yesterday saying what a clumsy idiot I was.’ Her laughter dried up. ‘Of all times to go and do something as daft as this.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ replied Heath. ‘We’ll manage. You do too much anyway.’

‘I like things spick and span,’ said Geraldine. ‘This house has been good to me and I want to be good to it.’

‘I’d better go and carry on with my duties,’ said Heath, glancing at his watch.

‘Yes, yes, don’t let me hold you up,’ said Geraldine. When he had gone, though, she dropped her head onto her chest. ‘Oh, Viv, I could cry. Just when we need all hands on deck.’

‘You stop that right now,’ said Viv, who’d had more experience of geeing someone up than she should have had in her young life. ‘I’m learning. I’ve helped feed the animals and clean them out . . .’

‘But you’ve got all the office work to do as well,’ Geraldine butted in.