Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage (26 page)

‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’ asked Edgar Leadbetter, his voice soft, bringing her back into his office, as if drawing her from the depths of a trance.

‘No, no, I’ll be all right,’ Gaynor said, wondering why she wasn’t crying. She wanted to, she wanted to howl and scream but her eyes were dry, her insides were dry. She felt hollowed out by grief from this revelation.

She remembered writing down her new contact details for Mr Leadbetter. There was a blank after that, then she was in her car, putting the key precisely into the ignition. Then she was setting off, pressing the button that connected her phone to the car by Bluetooth. Then she was speaking to Janet, her fellow receptionist, and telling her that she wouldn’t be coming into work today because she had just become a widow. The word belonged to old women in black veils. It lent respect and dignity. But all Gaynor could feel, as she drove on automatic pilot, back to her house, the house she had shared with her husband for thirty years, the house he had carried her into as a young bride, the house she now moved around in like a ghost looking for him, was pain.

Chapter 54

The weather started to change that Monday and it was not the only change that was happening in Ironmist. As each hour passed, the air cooled more, the clouds thickened, their soft whiteness muddied and the sunshine over Wildflower Cottage faded. The ground mist formed into discernible swirls and the colours of the love-in-a-mist seemed to intensify to an almost electric violet.

Heath rested from brushing Keith to look over at the next enclosure. The big horse blew out a shudder of breath as if telling him to hurry up and start again. He stood there patiently waiting for the scratch of the bristles to resume. Viv was showing Armstrong how to groom Wonk, avoiding her front flank as Wonk didn’t like the feel of the brush near her false leg, and how to put her at ease. She’d found all this out herself as Wonk wasn’t usually very tolerant of the brush, but when you talked any old rubbish to her in a soft voice, she allowed it.

Viv had come far in matters of animal care since she’d arrived at Wildflower Cottage, thought Heath. She didn’t even flinch now when walking through the geese to lift their eggs. And as for the growing relationship between herself and Ursula, it was touching to watch. More than touching – beautiful. One minute, Viv was throwing up on the grass at the thought of cutting up meat for the birds, the next she was flying nearly as high as they did on the wave of their acceptance.

Maybe he had been wrong, maybe she really was here ‘for experience’ as she put it. He had to give it to her, she was a damned hard worker. She had cooked, she had washed, she had dealt with the paperwork and helped with the animals without a single murmur of complaint and then gone back to the folly at night probably to mix her potions, like a white witch. He noticed that the folly lights were still on past midnight sometimes.

She was the same age as Sarah had been when they first met, yet Sarah was like a skittish colt, girly and giggly. Antonia Leighton was serious, dark and moody. He knew that a large part of her allure was that she was so different to Sarah, or so he thought, but then similarities began to surface. Sarah was pretty, knew it and used it. Antonia was all too aware of her beauty. Both of them were adept at attracting people to them but once he had seen past their polished veneer, what remained was not enough to hold him.

Viv was laughing, reaching behind her, securing her caramel hair back into the band from which it had escaped. He rarely saw her without a smile playing on her lips, a light dancing in eyes as blue and warm as Antonia’s were blue and glacial.

Talk of the devil and he’s sure to appear.
Or rather
she
in this case.

Antonia Leighton was riding down his drive. She was dressed in black and looked as if she were part of the horse, as if she had ridden out of a dark fairy tale, a wild malevolent spirit with bad powers. The horse slowed to a trot, her body rising and falling in rhythm with it. There was no smile on her face, there never was. Antonia Leighton’s beauty was one which sat best on a scowl and Heath wondered what madness could have ever persuaded him to think of her in romantic terms.

‘Hello Antonia,’ he greeted her politely enough though. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘I was just passing,’ she shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I thought you might like to know that I’ve persuaded my father to re-offer the house to you, the one that you so recklessly refused.’

‘There was no need,’ replied Heath, resuming his brushing. ‘I don’t want it.’

‘There’s gratitude for you.’ Her eyebrows quirked in surprise at his obstinance. ‘I see
she’s
still here.’ She nodded towards Viv.
She’s jealous
, thought Heath. She wasn’t used to having other young females around taking the limelight away from herself. That had been part of the confusion; he’d been viewing her primarily as a young woman and not as a Leighton. He’d been temporarily blinded by her sex.

He tapped Keith on the rump and the horse walked off towards his stable-mate. Then he turned fully towards Antonia and said: ‘Will you please remove yourself from my land.’

There was a curve of confused amusement on Antonia’s dark pink lips.

‘What?’

‘I said, get off my land.’ His voice was calm, hard, devoid of any of his past civility. ‘It might have escaped your attention but you’re a Leighton and you’re as unwelcome here as the rest of your clan.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Antonia obviously didn’t believe what she was hearing.

‘Just go. I don’t even know why you ever thought I’d be interested in one of your father’s poxy little new-build boxes. We aren’t all money-grabbing, egocentric, selfish bastards.’

Humiliated and rejected, Antonia swung immediately into damage-limitation mode.

‘To think I actually tried to help you. I felt sorry for you.’

‘You and I both know that isn’t true,’ Heath said. ‘A Leighton hasn’t done anything for anyone else in one hundred and fifty years that didn’t benefit himself first.’

She closed her heels on the horse’s sides and it circled, keen to be off.

‘I’ll be first in the queue to watch you being thrown off our land, you ignorant
fucker
.’ She was spitting, trying to wound; he expected nothing less so didn’t react other than to turn his back on her, saying, ‘Goodbye, Miss Leighton,’ over his shoulder whilst walking into the stable to put the horse brush away.

‘Miss Leighton, Miss Leighton.’ Running towards them was Armstrong, waving his hand still looped in Wonk’s brush strap. ‘Look, I’ve been brushing the donkey.’

Antonia nudged her horse forward towards him. Armstrong leaned on the fence, exhausted from his burst. ‘That’s very good,’ she said to him, ‘very clever.’

‘Can I brush your horse? I won’t stand behind him because you can get kicked but I can reach your horse because I’m very tall and he’s very tall.’

‘That’s right, Armstrong.’

Her voice was pure sugar, sweet and gentle. Heath suddenly realised where this could go, but was too late to stop it.

‘So what will you do when this place closes in a couple of months, Armstrong? Did they tell you that all the animals are going to be slaughtered and the sanctuary is going to be knocked down? You won’t have anywhere to go, will you?’

Viv was running towards them now.

‘They’re all going to die, Armstrong. The horses are going to be meat for dogs. That stupid donkey will be made into burgers. There’s really no point brushing her is there, it won’t make her any more tasty. Yum yum.’

Armstrong froze, then his whole body started to tremble as if there was an engine inside him that was revving up.

‘You bitch.’ Viv wished she were taller and could drag Antonia Leighton off that damned horse.

Then Armstrong began to wail, a siren of a noise, a keen of pain and panic and Viv threw her arms round him but she was too short to pull his head onto her shoulder and he threw her off and started darting here and there, screaming for his mum. Antonia Leighton cast a hateful stare at Heath and coursed off down the drive, the horse’s hooves kicking up dry dust behind it.

‘I’m okay, just see to Armstrong,’ cried Viv as Heath stepped towards her. He chased the sobbing boy, forced him into his arms, held him tight, talked to him, told him over and over again that the animals were all going to be safe, that Antonia was joking, very badly, that she was cross, but no harm would ever come to the animals. It took all Heath’s considerable strength to hold Armstrong until his panic subsided as his body emptied itself of tears.

Viv wasn’t okay, he noticed, because she’d had to struggle to her feet and looked drained of colour. She’d been winded and too embarrassed to show it.

‘I’m going to take him home,’ mouthed Heath over Armstrong’s shoulder. ‘Are you all right, Viv?’

‘I will be,’ said Viv. ‘Don’t worry.’

Geraldine was hobbling towards them now at speed.

‘Gerry, can you look after Viv,’ called Heath.

‘Viv, darling, lean on me,’ said Geraldine, supporting her and leading her inside, as Heath gently led the still sobbing Armstrong to his car.

‘That poor boy,’ said Viv.

‘Those Leightons are evil,’ snarled Geraldine. She lifted her head. ‘Isme, if you’re here, for goodness sake don’t let them get away with it.’

And as if the old earth spirits had responded, the breeze suddenly lifted, bringing with it the scent of a thousand blue flowers.

Chapter 55

Monday passed in a blur for Gaynor. She rang Leanne, but as expected there was no answer. She texted – RING URGENTLY. I HAVE TO SPEAK TO YOU, MUM and left three voicemail messages. Then she rang Eastman’s funeral parlour, because they’d looked after Mick’s parents and he always said if anything happened to him, he’d have them look after him, too. She didn’t believe the lady who answered that he wasn’t there. Gaynor accused her of hiding him and screamed down the phone at her. The lady shamed her with her patience and Gaynor sat on the carpet and yowled like a wild animal. She was still in that position when Leanne rang in the afternoon. Leanne was at a swimwear photoshoot and she said she’d get a train from London when she’d finished for the afternoon.

Gaynor couldn’t remember ringing her mother, but suddenly she was there, pulling her daughter up from the bouncy, expensive carpet, holding her tightly, being a mum.

*

When Stel came back from work, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Outside Al’s house there was a For Sale notice. She was absolutely gobsmacked that he was selling up but more so that he hadn’t told her. They’d been living next door to each other for how many years and yet he hadn’t mentioned it? It shocked and upset her.

He was out, otherwise she would have knocked on his door. She would have to go round when he was in and find out where he was moving to and why he hadn’t said anything.

She wished she weren’t seeing Ian later. She fancied climbing into her fleecy pyjamas and catching up on soaps. They’d quickly fallen into a pattern where he came around every night at seven and stayed and it was lovely, but it had been eight years since she’d had that sort of intensive relationship. He hadn’t invited her round to his place yet and that slightly grated on her, if she was honest. He’d given the excuse that he was having a lot of work done in his house so it was in a bit of a state, but she wondered if that was true. She’d taken a sneaky peek at his personnel file and found his address: 43 Crompton Street. It wasn’t in the best area of town, but surely he didn’t think she’d bother about that, did he?

Stel fed Basil and cleaned his litter tray. She noticed that he didn’t jump on the sofa to snuggle up on her lap when Ian was there, sulking probably that she had a boyfriend. As she was peeling potatoes, she saw, through the kitchen window, that Al’s electric garage door was sliding down. He was home. She darted to the door and stuck her head out to find him there on his path.

‘Oy you,’ she shouted. ‘What’s with the For Sale notice?’

He turned and said, ‘Hello Stel,’ but she saw straight away that his customary grin was missing. ‘Yeah, I was going to tell you, I’ve part-exchanged against one of the houses on the new Roselaine estate. Couldn’t turn the deal they gave me down really. It’ll be ready for me first week in June.’

‘The Roselaine estate?’ Stel blew out an impressed breath of air. ‘Wow.’

She’d seen those new houses advertised in the
Barnsley Chronicle
. There were only ten on the plot and the smallest of them had four bedrooms.

‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me, Al,’ said Stel, trying to keep it light. ‘All these years we’ve been friends.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, an unreadable flat expression on his face. ‘All these years we’ve been friends, Stel.’ And with that he walked into the house and shut the door firmly behind him.

*

Leanne Pollock arrived in a haze of designer perfume carrying a very good copy of a Louis Vuitton case. Her mother and grandmother threw their arms around her as soon as she walked in and they all cried on each other.

‘I’m sorry but I had to finish that job, Mum, or I wouldn’t have been paid,’ explained Leanne. ‘I mean it’s not like Dad was on his deathbed and I missed his final minutes, was it?’

Gaynor’s mum Paula had rung around all the local undertakers but they couldn’t find which one held Mick’s remains. Paula was incensed that they’d been asked to stay away from the funeral.

‘Me and you will drive round tomorrow until we find out where your dad is, Leanne,’ she said to her granddaughter.

‘I can’t, Nan, I’ve got to get the ten o’clock train back. I’ve got work commitments,’ replied Leanne.

‘Eh?’ shrieked Paula.

‘I’ll come back for the funeral. But what can I do?’

‘What about be here for your mother?’ snapped Paula. Leanne might have been her grandchild, but she was under no illusion what a selfish little madam she was.

‘Mum, I’m here for you, you know that,’ said Leanne, taking her mother’s hands between hers. Gaynor noticed the long perfect acrylic nails, the tiny gold charms pierced through those on her little fingers. She noticed the tell-tale knots of expensive extensions in her daughter’s hair, and the flawless frozen forehead.