Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage (7 page)

As if on cue, the door creaked open and in walked Armstrong. Viv liked the smell that hung around him – fresh and innocent, like sweet hay and baby talc.

‘I’ve fed everyone, Geraldine, except the birds. And I’ve cleaned out Wonk’s stable for when she gets back. Oh, good morning, miss.’

‘Good morning, Armstrong,’ said Viv.

‘Good lad. Want a cuppa?’ asked Geraldine.

‘No thanks, Geraldine. Can I take Pilot out again?’ He lifted the lead off the hook on the wall before Geraldine could answer, hoping to force her into saying that he could.

‘Only a short one, Armstrong. He was very tired yesterday. You took him a bit too far, I think.’

‘I promise.’ Armstrong saluted and grinned at Viv. ‘You’re very small, aren’t you?’

‘
Armstrong
,’ Geraldine reprimanded him.

‘It wasn’t an insult. Honest.’

Viv laughed, just to reassure him that she wasn’t insulted. She’d heard it too many times to be offended. Besides, it was true. Geraldine shook her head from side to side with mild impatience. ‘Go on, off with you, Armstrong, and don’t wear Pilot out.’

‘I promise, Geraldine. Bye, Viv.’

‘Have a nice walk. See you later,’ she replied.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Geraldine said, ‘Sorry about that. Armstrong says what he sees.’

‘It’s fine,’ said Viv. ‘I’ve heard worse.’

‘I do hope not.’

‘I’m actually a lot taller than the doctors thought I’d grow,’ said Viv, watching Geraldine stirring a spoon around in the old brown teapot. ‘I was born prematurely and with a curvature of the spine and I wasn’t expected to hit four foot six, never mind top five foot. I’ve had more than my fair share of operations over the years.’

‘Oh my goodness, you poor girl,’ said Geraldine. ‘Are you all right now?’

‘Touch wood,’ replied Viv, putting her palm flat down on the table. ‘I don’t need to go back to hospital unless I feel I have any problems.’

Stel had battled every step of the way for the operations and procedures her daughter should have had. She had made Viv do yoga and any exercise class which her research suggested would be beneficial to her – and it had been. Stel was always so much stronger for other people than she had ever been for herself.

‘Well, thank goodness for that.’

‘Obviously I won’t be applying for jobs with any heavy lifting involved.’

‘Nor should you,’ said Geraldine, putting a mug of tea down in front of Viv. ‘You’ve time for a cup before I show you the office. This is my third. I need to hydrate. I had too much of that potato wine last night. I don’t usually turn into an old soak when the moon is out. I hope I didn’t give you a bad impression of myself.’

‘Not at all,’ smiled Viv. ‘That soup was lovely. Who’d have thought mushrooms and bread could have been so tasty?’

‘The bakery up the hill is wonderful. They supply to a few local hotels and shops, thank goodness, because they’d never make a profit just serving Ironmist.’

‘I’m surprised there aren’t more houses in this beautiful place,’ said Viv, realising immediately that she had said the wrong thing as Geraldine’s friendly smile flattened.

‘We don’t want more houses here. There are just enough houses for just enough people and that’s the way the Ironmisters like it.’

‘Yes, you’re right. It would spoil it,’ Viv put in quickly. ‘I’ll take my tea into the office with me if you like?’

‘Come with me then,’ said Geraldine, smile back on her face. She opened the door at the back of the kitchen and led Viv through to the hallway, on the far side of which was an office which looked as if it had been burgled. There were papers everywhere.

‘As you can see, we need some help.’

‘Lordy,’ said Viv. What a mess it was.

‘I know it’s bad. I haven’t touched anything because I’m scared to, quite honestly. I don’t know what needs throwing away or keeping and I wouldn’t know where to start.’

Viv was not put off by the sight at all: she only saw the prospect of kicking this room into shape. She was good at organising and always had been. She’d had to grow up quickly when her mother had found a lump in her breast and her wuss of a partner had run off and left her. Viv had had to take command at fifteen and be the parent.

‘Do you think you can do anything with it?’ asked Geraldine fearfully.

Viv mentally spat on her hands and rubbed them together and said, ‘I’m sure I can.’

Chapter 8

Stel stood by the window in the hospice, looking idly out onto the beautiful tranquil garden, drawing warmth from the cup of coffee in her hand.

‘Changed your mind?’ asked Maria the head nurse, coming up behind her and looking over her shoulder.

‘About what?’

‘Ian the gardener, of course.’

Stel hadn’t even noticed him there, doing something with a spade behind the hedge.

‘No,’ said Stel. ‘I was thinking about my Viv and wondering how she was.’

‘Going out with Ian would take your mind off things.’

‘Oh give up, Maria.’

Last week, Maria had told Stel that gossip had reached her that Ian, the new gardener, was asking questions about her: was she married to/living with/seeing a man. It was obvious that he fancied her. Maria had taken it upon herself to interfere. Did Stel fancy Ian Robson because if she did, she would tell him and they could get together with none of the faffing-about time-wasting nonsense.

Maria and Stel had worked together years and were friends, but not quite close enough friends for Stel to tell her the absolute truth. If the head nurse had been Caro or Linda, Stel would have said, ‘He seems like a nice bloke but I don’t like his eyes. They’re too close together. And too high up. As if God had stuck them on his head as an afterthought.’ She knew she was being ridiculously petty but it put her off. She just didn’t fancy him because of his eyes. Stel knew that her dream man was never going to land in her life now and was prepared to compromise, but still . . . there was no spark when Ian came into the kitchen for a cup of tea or exchanged a few banal, polite words with her. Not one.

‘Aw, that’s a shame,’ replied Maria. ‘I had high hopes.’

‘Stop matchmaking,’ Stel admonished her. ‘I can’t see me ever going out with anyone again. I only have one sort of luck where men are concerned and it’s rotten.’

After her brush with cancer she’d subscribed to Matchmaker.com and had a series of dates that it made her shudder to think about. ‘Dating is like finding that needle in a haystack,’ Linda had said. Well, she hadn’t found the needle but on Matchmaker.com she had certainly found a load of pricks.

‘Don’t you miss the sex?’ whispered Maria.

‘Sometimes,’ nodded Stel, wishing she hadn’t said it as that gave Maria another angle to come in at.

‘It doesn’t have to be serious. You could be friends with benefits. Every itch needs a scratch.’

‘Stop it now.’

‘He used to be in the army. He was wounded in action. He got knifed in his side by the enemy. He was lucky to survive.’

‘So I hear.’ Stel wouldn’t be swayed, although admittedly she had been impressed after hearing that.

‘And he’s got a nice—’ Maria snapped off what she had been about to say because Ian walked into the kitchen through the garden door.

‘Morning, ladies,’ he said, his eyes travelling from Stel to Maria and back to Stel again, where they lingered.

‘Morning, Ian,’ smiled Maria. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Good, thanks.’

His accent wasn’t local. Stel credited the slight sing-song cadence in it to the Derby or Nottinghamshire area.

‘Can I make you a cup of coffee?’ Stel asked, hoping he wouldn’t see that as a sign that she wanted anything other than to put the kettle on for him.

‘That would be lovely, thank you.’

She knew how he took it because she’d made him one often enough – weak and very white with two sugars. She wasn’t thick, she knew that he timed his breaks to tie in with hers.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ replied Maria, giving Stel a mischievous wink as she put her upturned empty cup in the dishwasher, and flounced out as quickly as her legs could manage. Stel could have throttled her. She could feel Ian’s eyes on her back as she refilled the kettle and plugged it in.

‘So how’s you then, Stel?’ he asked.

‘I’m okay thanks, Ian,’ said Stel, glancing over her shoulder and throwing him a smile. It was true what they said about watched pots. This kettle was taking an age to boil.

‘Daughter all right?’

‘Sorry?’

‘Your daughter? Has she settled in her new place?’

So he knew about Viv then. Probably through Maria, arming him with information which might get him an ‘in’ with her.

‘Yes, thanks,’ said Stel with an absent sigh, which Ian heard.

‘That was a big sigh.’

‘Did I sigh?’

‘Yep.’

Stel swallowed hard on the sudden tears that threatened to come tumbling down her cheeks and embarrass her. Basil still hadn’t come back home and none of the local vets or animal centres had had notice of him. One tear escaped the barricade, followed by another which she wiped quickly away.

‘Here, let me make us both a coffee.’ Ian’s hands came gently on Stel’s arms and he moved her away from the kettle. ‘Sit down.’ He took the spoon out of her hand and took two clean mugs out of the cupboard. He remembered how she took hers and didn’t need to ask.

Stel sat down at the dining table in the middle of the kitchen and watched Ian preparing the drinks. He had a good physique from the back. Tall, very slim, short dark hair in a military crew cut. She felt shallow that she’d regarded him as unfanciable earlier just because his eyes didn’t fit her ideal.

‘I haven’t got any kids, so I can’t talk from experience,’ he was saying. ‘But I know what a state my mum was in when I left home to go into the army.’ He pronounced it ‘Ormy’. It made her smile, even though she didn’t feel much like smiling.

‘Our cat has gone missing as well,’ Stel blurted out, not sure why she was taking him into her confidence. ‘I’ve looked everywhere.’

‘Oh dear. Maybe he’s out hunting, enjoying these lovely summer nights.’

‘He’s too lazy to hunt anything. He hardly ever goes out and I’ve got visions of him locked in someone’s garage just before they’ve gone on holiday for a fortnight . . .’

‘Hey, hold on, hold on,’ he said, pressing his hands down as if attempting to apply a manual brake on her words. ‘My mum had a cat that was always going walkabout. She used to get all worked up and then he’d come strolling back in fatter than when he went out. That’s what cats do.’

‘Not Basil,’ said Stel. ‘And I lied to Viv and told her that he’d come home.’

‘Do you want me to help you look for him? Four eyes are better than two. Or six if I wear my glasses.’

Stel smiled. ‘Thanks, but I’ve looked everywhere.’

‘Where do you live?’ He put a mug of coffee down on the table in front of her.

‘Thank you. Horton Lane, Pogley Top.’

‘You’ve got fields at the back up there, haven’t you?’

‘And the woods. And a stream. I’ve walked around them all and called and called and he hasn’t returned.’

Ian mused. ‘You’ll have rung around all the vets and that, won’t you?’

‘Oh yes.’

Ian scratched absently at his arms, criss-crossed with red lines.

‘You should wear gloves,’ said Stel.

‘What?’

‘Gardening gloves.’ She pointed at the lattice-work on his skin.

‘I know.’ He raised up his arms and studied them. ‘They look like something off a Frankenstein movie, don’t they? I don’t think I’d win an arm beauty contest but I’m a gardener, I like to be close to the earth.’

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. He was quite attractive when he smiled, and that comment about getting close to the earth was ever so slightly sexy.

Stel’s eyes flicked upwards to the clock on the wall. ‘Oh blimey, I’d better get back to my post,’ she said, standing hurriedly and lifting the mug. ‘Thanks for the coffee, and the ear. Sorry if I got a bit emotional.’

Ian waved his hand airily to dismiss the notion. ‘Oh don’t worry. Perfectly understandable in the circumstances. You should try and find something to take your mind off things. There’s some good films on at the cinema at the moment.’

Nooo
. Alarm bells started ringing in Stel’s head. She didn’t want to be put in the sticky position of turning him down face to face.

‘Never really liked the cinema,’ she lied, trying her level best to look as if she hadn’t noticed his words were anything other than a casual observation. ‘I think I’ll get the girls round and have a few drinks.’

‘You do that,’ he replied, standing up to go. ‘Catch you later. And keep that chin up.’

Stel went back to her seat at the reception desk grateful that she had avoided what could have been an awkward situation. Then again, shouldn’t she have been flattered that a fine figure of an ex-soldier had taken an interest in her?

Chapter 9

‘Please, Rebecca. Please let us have Freddie for an hour. For his grandad’s birthday. We’re all desperate to see him.’

On the other end of the phone there was a moment’s silence, into which Linda read a touch of hope; only for it to be felled by the axe of that one word: ‘No.’

‘I’m absolutely begging you.’ Behind her, Dino tapped her on the shoulder, gesturing for her to hand the phone over to him.

‘Rebecca,’ he said. ‘Just an hour, love. It would be the best present I could have.’

‘He’s got a swimming lesson.’ Rebecca’s voice came tinnily down the phone. ‘I’ll let him run up the path to deliver your card but then we will have to go. I don’t want to turn up late.’

Iris was gesticulating madly at Dino so he turned his back on her in order not to be distracted. ‘It’s not fair,’ she shouted.

On the other end of the line, Rebecca huffed. ‘Tell her life isn’t fair.’

‘Look, ignore her,’ said Dino with dignity, fighting to reclaim some ground. ‘We will be glad to see you both. You’re very welcome anytime.’ But he was speaking into the ether as the phone had been put down on the other side.

Iris and Linda both exploded then, Iris with expletives, Linda with tears. Dino put his arms around his wife and pulled her into his shoulder.