A Summer of Secrets (24 page)

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Peter bent down to Phyllis in her chair and offered her his hand. The old woman grabbed it with both her own.

‘She finished her father off,’ she informed him. ‘And she’ll finish me off, too, the way she’s been carrying on lately.’

Eventually managing to extricate his hand, Peter straightened up. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’ll, um, just take a look at the dog if that’s all right.’

‘Hmph,’ harrumphed Phyllis. ‘It’s a funny state of affairs we’ve created when people bother to come out to look at a dog, but nobody bothers about me. Neglect – that’s what they’ll put on my death certificate. And it’ll be all her fault.’

‘I’ll, er, just take you into the garden,’ said Jenny, ushering their visitor through the room. ‘Harriet’s out there.’

Once in the garden, Jenny pulled a rueful expression. ‘God. I’m so sorry about that. My mother can be a bit …’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ cut in Peter, his mouth stretching into another lovely smile, which, Jenny couldn’t help but notice, set his warm, hazel eyes twinkling. ‘You see all sorts in my job.’

‘And I honestly don’t neglect her,’ she added, feeling a dire need to explain herself. ‘She’s just saying that because I’ve … well … I’ve stopped pandering to her every stupid whim. I’ve decided I’ve spent too many years running after her, and now it’s time for some me time. Oh, God.’ She broke off, clamping a hand to her mouth. ‘Sorry. You haven’t come here to listen to my life story. You’re here to see Harriet. And there she is’ – she indicated the dog lying under the wooden table – ‘looking as miserable as ever.’

‘Hello, old girl.’

No sooner had Peter uttered the words than Harriet leapt to her feet and hared over to him, tail wagging manically.

Jenny’s eyes grew wide. ‘Wow. That’s the quickest she’s moved in the entire time she’s been here. And she’s never once wagged her tail. Not even when I gave her liver and gravy.’

Peter laughed as he tickled the dog under the chin. ‘Well, she seems absolutely fine to me.’

‘But she’s not like that normally,’ Jenny explained. ‘She’s just so uninterested in everything. I really don’t know what to do with her.’

‘I think maybe she’s a little bit lonely,’ Peter concluded. ‘I know everyone thinks they have a hard life in the kennels – and, don’t get me wrong, it’s not ideal by any stretch of the imagination. But, having been in there for so long, I think she’s probably missing the other dogs.’

‘Well, do you think I should take her back there? For a visit?’

‘Definitely not. It would confuse her.’

Jenny sighed. ‘What should I do then?’

Peter gave the matter a little thought before making a suggestion. ‘You could bring her out to my place, if you like. I used to take her home with me some weekends so she could have a good run around and play with my dogs. She really liked that.’

‘Oh.’ His reply wasn’t at all what Jenny had been expecting. ‘Well, if you’re sure it’s no trouble, I’m willing to try anything to cheer her up.’

‘How about Sunday afternoon, then? I’ll be back from the kennels around four.’

Peter’s “place”, Jenny discovered on Sunday, was a gorgeous, nineteenth-century farmhouse in the heart of the Yorkshire countryside, so off the beaten track, it took her a good twenty minutes of being lost before she stumbled on it.

‘Wow,’ she exclaimed, as she climbed out of the car and Peter appeared at the enormous front door. ‘This place looks amaz –’

Before she could finish her observation, four huge hounds burst out from behind Peter, haring directly towards her.

A terrified Jenny froze.

‘Down!’ roared Peter.

All four dogs skidded to a halt and dropped to the ground.

Taking a few seconds to register the cartoon-like scene, Jenny began laughing. ‘Well. I’m impressed. You’ve obviously got them to a word.’

‘I have to,’ Peter said, striding towards her in cream chinos with a streak of green paint on the left knee. ‘Otherwise I’d be in court every week accused of them licking someone to death. They’re as soft as muck, but having the four of them charge at you can, I understand, be a little overwhelming.’

‘You could say that,’ Jenny agreed. ‘Anyway …’ – she turned her attention to Harriet who, with her nose pressed against Jenny’s back, was obviously desperate to escape the car – ‘… it looks like Harriet’s pleased to be here. Normally I have to drag her out.’ She stepped aside and Harriet leapt out and bounded over to the other four dogs still sprawled on the ground.

‘Go!’ commanded Peter.

In a flash, they sprang to their feet and began fussing around a very excited Harriet, whose tail wagged so voraciously she looked like she might take flight at any moment.

‘Feeling happier already?’

Jenny turned and smiled at Peter. ‘I can’t tell you how much.’

‘Good,’ he replied. ‘Well, now the dogs are sorted, let’s go in and I’ll make us a drink.’

Jenny followed him through the house, the huge proportions of which were slightly staggering. By the time they reached the kitchen, her eyes had almost popped out of her head. ‘This place is absolutely gorgeous,’ she exclaimed. ‘Have you lived here long?’

‘Just over a year,’ Peter replied, gesturing for her to sit down at the huge pine table in the centre. ‘It’s a bit of an indulgence, but I love it.’

‘I’m not surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a lovelier home.’

‘Thank you. That’s very kind. Now would you like tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, please.’

A few minutes later, Jenny having spent the intervening time gazing out through the enormous window, Peter plonked a cafetiere, two mugs and a plate of chocolate-chip muffins on the table. ‘There you go. And if you don’t like the muffins, please do say so. Baking is a new hobby of mine and I’m afraid I’m just getting the hang of it.’

‘Well, now I’m even more impressed,’ said Jenny, deciding that her cabbage-soup diet could wait one more day. She’d been so stressed with Harriet recently that she hadn’t had a chance to even think about her size-ten resolution.

‘Of course, the only problem with baking stuff is that you then have to eat it,’ Peter grimaced, rubbing a hand over his slightly rounded belly. The weight suited him, though, Jenny decided. He wasn’t fat by any stretch of the imagination. His look was what she would describe as “homely”. In fact, with his unkempt curls, paint-splattered trousers and the hole she’d just noticed under the arm of his black T-shirt, he reminded her of an eccentric professor. A look she rather liked.

‘If the cakes taste half as good as they look, they’ll be delicious,’ she remarked.

Peter chuckled and had begun tipping coffee into the two mugs when all five dogs hared into the room, completed two circuits of the table, then hared out again.

‘Gosh,’ giggled Jenny. ‘They are having a good time, aren’t they?’

‘You see. I told you there was life in the old dog yet.’

Jenny laughed. ‘Indeed you did. It’s like she’s a completely different character. And I have to say, I’ve been feeling a bit like that myself lately.’

Peter lifted a brow as he pushed the plate of muffins towards her. ‘I’m intrigued. Would this have anything to do with what you told me when I visited your house? About no longer pandering to your mother?’

Jenny pulled a rueful expression. ‘It does. And you’ll probably think I’m some mad old bat suffering a mid-life crisis or something.’

‘Probably. But having been through the same thing myself recently, I can’t really judge.’

‘Now
I’m
intrigued,’ chuckled Jenny. ‘You go first. I’m sure your story is far more interesting than mine.’

‘Unlikely. But, in a nutshell … a week after my fiftieth birthday, three years ago, my wife died. We’d been childhood sweethearts; together since sixth form. So, as you can imagine, I took it pretty badly. Felt like I’d been sliced down the middle …’

‘God. That’s terrible. Was it sudden?’

‘Pretty sudden. Two months after being diagnosed with stomach cancer she passed away.’

Jenny clapped her hand to her mouth.

‘Anyway,’ he continued, picking up a blue-spotted milk jug and adding a dash of milk to his coffee, ‘I was at my wits’ end. Didn’t know what to do with myself. So, I did what any sane person would: packed in my job and bought a one-way ticket to South America.’

Jenny widened her eyes. ‘Goodness. That was brave.’

‘Brave or stupid. Whichever, it got me through. I was away for eighteen months, helping out with various building projects over there. Then, when I came back, I decided I wanted a completely different way of life. So, I sold the house in Leeds and moved out here. Of course it’s a ridiculously big property for just one person, but I absolutely love it.’

‘I’m not surprised. It’s gorgeous. So do you work at the kennels full-time?’

‘Two days a week and weekends. The rest of the time I’m self-employed.’

‘As?’

Peter burst out laughing. ‘Would you believe a human psychologist? I much prefer the dog stuff, of course, but it doesn’t pay nearly as well.’

Jenny chuckled. ‘Well, it sounds to me like you’ve made a pretty good job of things after your tragedy. My story isn’t half as dramatic.’

‘Tell me anyway.’

She shrugged. ‘Not much to tell, really. I’d been planning on going to university when I was eighteen, but my dad died a few months before. Of a heart attack. Brought on, according to my mother, by the list of university costs he was compiling at the time. She’s never forgiven me.’

‘And university?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t go. And I’ve spent my entire life regretting it. But recently I’ve realised that life’s too short. I’ve wasted too much time pandering to my mother. If I don’t do something now, then I never will. So here I am. With a dog she can’t stand and …’ She was about to mention her relationship with Len, but stopped. Firstly, because she wasn’t sure it fell into the “relationship” category; and secondly, because she didn’t want to tell him.

‘Well, good for you. It looks like all three of us are enjoying life again,’ he chuckled, as Harriet bowled into the kitchen, one of Peter’s dogs behind her. Evidently detecting the smell of muffins this time, she skidded to a halt, the other dog colliding with her.

At the comical sight, Jenny and Peter burst out laughing.

Harriet was exhausted after her visit to the farmhouse. And so, too, was Jenny. She and Peter had had great fun with the dogs, kicking a ball, throwing frisbees, exploring the vast grounds. Heaven only knew what she looked like – a sweaty, flabby mess, most likely. But she didn’t care. She’d had a great time, spending most of the day in fits of laughter. At all kinds of things – including fleas, on the subject of which Jenny related the tale of her scratching experience at Aubergine. Peter found it so hilarious, tears streamed down his face. Something Jenny couldn’t imagine Len doing at all.

Just as she couldn’t imagine laughing with Len at all.

Chapter Nineteen

After the ache in her head, and the pain in her ankle, the first thing Portia became aware of as she regained consciousness was someone reaching for her hand and softly enquiring, ‘Hey. How you doing?’

Her eyes flashed open.

To gaze directly into Jed Carr’s.

He was smiling, but it didn’t mask the shadow of concern clouding his handsome features. Still, for all she scarcely knew the man, the fact he was here, by her side, made her feel inexplicably safe. She blinked a few times to make sure she wasn’t imagining the scene. But as Jed rubbed his thumb over her palm, it became obvious she wasn’t.

‘Wh-where am I?’ she ventured, dragging her mind into the present.

‘Hospital. You fell off a ladder.’

Oh, God. The kettle. The fuse. The ladder. Of course. It all made sense now. Except … ‘What are you doing here?’

His smile widened. ‘I called at the manor to pick up the jacket I left in your car. But when there was no answer at the door, I took the liberty of peeping inside. And there you were.’

Despite her throbbing head, Portia raised an impressed eyebrow. ‘Wow. First you rescue my car and then you rescue me. Please do let me know the next time you have a crisis and I’ll try to repay the favour.’

Jed chuckled. ‘In the words of a certain Mr Edmunds, “It’s a deal”.’

***

The day after his heart-to-heart with Candi, Joe received a text from Gina asking if he could possibly collect Charlie from nursery at four o’clock. It was late-night closing at the salon and a member of staff had gone home with a stomach bug, which meant Gina would have to stay.

Joe called her back immediately.

‘I’m really sorry to bother you,’ she apologised. ‘But Mum’s working until six. And we’re already short-staffed in the salon because two of the girls are on holiday. If I leave early, they’ll be up the creek.’

At the genuine remorse in her tone, Joe experienced a thud of guilt. She was obviously working hard and he respected that.

‘Look, it’s fine, honestly,’ he replied. And it was. He’d been too hard on her, he’d concluded following his conversation with Candi yesterday. It must be a nightmare trying to juggle motherhood, and work, and life in general. And Karen, while obviously doing a sterling job, shouldn’t be expected to fill the void. That was his job. And one he’d be immensely grateful for: he wanted to be part of Charlie’s life; yearned to share responsibility for him; to be included in the mundane day-to-day stuff as well as all the special moments.

‘I’ve even bought a car seat,’ he informed her. ‘From the charity shop. But it’s top-range. I checked it out on the internet beforehand.’ He’d spotted it in the shop after he’d left Candi yesterday, and, after completing half an hour’s research on his phone, decided it would be perfect.

Gina laughed. ‘That’s brilliant. Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind picking him up, I’ll let the nursery know to expect you.’

Buzzing with a heady mix of optimism and excitement, Joe all but bounced into the nursery to collect Charlie who, much to his delight, seemed equally as chuffed to see him.

‘How about a trip to the park and then we can grab a pizza?’ Joe suggested.

Charlie’s huge, dark eyes grew wide. ‘Could I have pepperoni on my pizza?’