Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage (16 page)

‘Doesn’t it just,’ replied Heath, then held up his hands. ‘I didn’t quite mean for that to come out the way it did.’

‘Oh, I’m sure you did, Mr Merlo. First you think I’m a journalist, then some sort of spy or thief—’

Heath cut her off. ‘I’ve spent a lot of time sitting by a hospital bed today speaking to Geraldine and she thinks very highly of you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. I’ve been rude and thoughtless.’ His eyes were beautiful. Like waxy dark green leaves, Viv thought.

She wasn’t done with him yet though, despite the genuine-sounding apology. ‘How could you think that I was so underhand? If I was working for the Leightons, why did I throw a bucket of water over them?’

‘Double-bluff?’ Heath suggested, again raising his hands to fend off any advancing aggression. ‘Not that I’m accusing you of that. I was just saying that if I was, that would be the conclusion I’d draw. But I’m not.’

‘You were doing so well too, Mr Merlo.’ Viv crossed her arms, enjoying this feeling of him being in her debt.

‘I have absolutely no right to ask you to help me, but I am going to anyway,’ said Heath. ‘For the animals, if not for me.’

Her thoughts were at either end of a tug-of-war rope.

Go
, said a voice.
Go now. This is going to get really messy if you don’t. You have no reason to hang around now.

But what if you need more? Until you know for sure . . . you should stay. You can’t leave them like this, Vivienne Blackbird. That’s not who you are.

‘Okay,’ said Viv, dropping a sigh of resignation. ‘I’m not used to animals, whatever Geraldine told you. So you might have to bite your tongue occasionally. But I’ll do my best.’

She watched a long breath of relief escape from Heath’s lips. Heath’s really kissable lips. She ripped her eyes away from them quickly.

‘There’s a pie in the oven if you haven’t eaten,’ said Viv. ‘Twenty-five minutes should do it. Cheese and onion. I’ve fed the house animals but I didn’t know what to do about the others.’

‘Thank you,’ said Heath. ‘I’ll see to them.’

‘Do you want me to start earlier in the morning than I usually do then?’

‘Eight?’ He gave her a small expectant smile. ‘I’ll be up before that but I don’t expect you to be.’

She was under no illusion that he wouldn’t be so accommodating if there had been anyone else he could have asked. It wasn’t as if he was talking to her nicely because he genuinely valued her and wanted to spend time with her. As he did Antonia Leighton. She wished that didn’t needle her as much as it did.

‘I’ll be here on time,’ said Viv, walking out of the kitchen and across to the folly to unpack her suitcase for the second time in a week.

Chapter 30

Just before she went to bed that night, Stel rang Viv. She tried very hard not to scream down the phone:
I THINK I’VE FOUND YOUR NEW STEPFATHER.

‘So, how did your date go then?’ Viv asked, although she could guess. Worryingly, she recognised that familiar giddy tone in her mother’s voice, however much she tried to mask it. Viv knew that her mother was already half in love with Ian Robson and no amount of telling her to slow down would do any good. Viv really hoped that this time her mum had found a diamond; she was overdue a bit of luck in that department and Ian had already earned major brownie points for finding Basil.

When the call had ended, Viv went back to reading about Nicholas Leighton on her laptop. She’d found an article about him that she hadn’t seen before, dated a month ago. His star was certainly in the ascendancy. As well as his ‘Youth of Yorkshire’ business project, intended to cultivate and promote young business people of the county, he had just been made Patron of a children’s charity along with a royal Princess and some very high-profile celebrities and – ironically enough – he was in the process of setting up a charity with an international rock-star who, though now at bus-pass age, was still very active in animal welfare issues. The charity was called ‘Rockin’ Horses’ and looked after retired racehorses. Not only that, Nicholas Leighton’s fledgling political career was taking off big-time. The new party leader was having a reshuffle and Leighton was about to be appointed as a government Special Adviser to the new ministerial department for Pastoral Care. He was passionate and committed to making a difference for the youth of today, he said in the article. Nicholas Leighton seemed to be everyone’s darling – not least the banks who were minding his conservatively estimated wealth of seventy million.

Nicholas Leighton was groomed and handsome in the pictures, on horseback, seated with his family in their baroque drawing room in their ‘ancient and atmospheric gothic castle home’. There was a photograph of father and elder daughter standing by a massive stone fireplace. ‘Nicholas Leighton, pictured with elder daughter Antonia (22) who helps run Ironmist estate. Antonia was born exactly nine months to the day after Nicholas and Victoria were married.’ Antonia looked beautiful, like the human version of an Arabian horse – all legs and swishy hair. She was gazing at her father affectionately, with a smile, as if the cameraman had captured them seconds after one of them had told the other a joke. Viv had never had that relationship with a father. She felt a prickle of tears behind her eyes and willed them back to where they came from, reprimanding herself for being so pathetic. There was a picture of Antonia with her mother Victoria – ‘who was born in Kramburg Castle in Germany’. Victoria had spent the first thirteen years of her life there, then her English mother had divorced her German father and returned to her home county of Herefordshire.

There was a beautiful portrait of Nicholas and Victoria, arms around each other, staring into each other’s blue eyes. Underneath were the words: ‘We knew from the very first meeting at Oxford University that we were meant to be together.’

There was no mention of the estate Nicholas planned to build after demolishing an existing animal sanctuary and ruining the peace for the people who lived in Ironmist. Surely there was something that Heath hadn’t tried? The higher Nicholas rose, the further it would be for him to fall. There must be some leverage there?

Viv slept well on the fat, comfy mattress, but her mind was spinning plans in her dreams.

Chapter 31

Viv woke up ages before her alarm was due to go off at seven, her brain rolling with activity. She had a shower and some poached eggs and sat at the dining table making notes for herself. She figured on dressing for physical work today and dragged on her tracksuit bottoms and woolly jumper – the most ‘farm-worthy’ clothes she had. Then, just before eight, she was striding across to Wildflower Cottage ready for whatever duties Heath Merlo had got lined up for her. The low mist hung on the air in fine curls and tendrils, delicate garlands for the wildflowers. Viv wondered if it would linger when the houses were built, and if the blue-violet love-in-a-mist would continue to flourish, pushing through manicured lawns much to the annoyance of the inhabitants, who would choke it with weed-killer.

Heath was chewing toast with one hand, putting Pilot’s food bowl down on the floor with the other. He gave Viv a cursory look up and down and his greeting words were, ‘You’ll need wellies.’

You’re onboard so I can go back to being my usual charming self. Not,
Viv read into that.

‘I’m not stupid,’ she said, ‘I’ve put them on the doorstep. I didn’t want to wear them indoors.’ She did have some consideration for his home.

‘Go and get them on then,’ he commanded. ‘Unless you’d like me to cook you a full English breakfast first whilst you read the newspaper.’

Viv bit her tongue as she went back outside. Bub purred and rubbed himself against her as she pulled on her wellies, anticipating more wiseguy comments from Heath when he saw them. Unlike his heavy-duty green Hunters, hers were bright yellow covered in bold sunflowers. They’d only had children’s wellies left in the shop when she’d bought them for the previous year’s rough winter.

‘Come on then,’ said Heath, appearing behind her. ‘Let’s get star—. Good God.’

He’d seen them then.

He marched forwards with long strides leaving Viv to follow in his wake. She tried to picture the sleek and refined Antonia Leighton sharing a life with him and found she couldn’t. He wouldn’t fit in at Ironmist Castle and Antonia definitely wouldn’t swap the family seat for a lowly cottage. But, as Armstrong’s mum had said, opposites do attract each other. Maybe it was a replay of the story of their ancestors: the delicate refined Cecilia and the rough, handsome, wild Alfred who was in love with her until the day he died. Except Cecilia sounded a lot sweeter than Antonia – and Alfred a lot more gentlemanly than Heath.

With no warning, Heath stopped and whirled around to face Viv.

‘What was that you said yesterday about “whatever Geraldine might have you told you”? You were talking about not being very good with animals.’

He obviously hadn’t taken it in at the time and it had just come back to him.

‘That . . . I’m not very good with animals,’ said Viv, looking up at him frowning down at her. ‘Geraldine didn’t ask if I was okay being around them in my phone interview. And as I presumed I’d be sitting behind a desk all day, I didn’t think it mattered that . . . that . . . I’m scared . . . of them.’ She attempted a smile but achieved a grimace.

Heath rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘Great,’ he said. ‘Just great. It gets better and better. When Gerry’s fully recovered, I think I’ll kill her.’

‘Who knows. I might be a natural,’ said Viv, convincing neither of them. ‘But I’m here and I’m all you’ve got. And Armstrong. I’m sure he’ll help you.’

‘I can only trust him with certain duties,’ said Heath. ‘And when his health is on a level, which, sod’s law, it isn’t today. Armstrong has very dark days.’ He tapped his head. ‘I don’t know what he’ll do when the sanctuary closes. Working here gives him a sense of purpose that he has never found anywhere else.’

Viv dropped a heavy sigh. She and Hugo had been at university with a girl who was bright and beautiful and had everything going for her but mentally had been in a black hole. She’d taken an overdose in the second year. Viv herself had had some depressing times. She’d always been aware that the surgery she’d had on her back could leave her paralysed. And she’d been thrown into her own dark tunnel when she thought her mother was going to die. But always, there had remained that pinprick of light in the distance to focus on that said, ‘Follow me, I’ll lead you back into the sunshine.’ And she had forced herself to concentrate on that, and head towards it.

‘Just treat me like a sort of animal idiot,’ said Viv. ‘Like a kid who’s lived on an alien planet and doesn’t know . . .’

‘Okay, I get the picture,’ said Heath, grumbling under his breath. ‘Let’s give you a crash course in animals then, shall we? We’ll start with some easy ones then: the goats. Not even you can be frightened by them.’

The goats were so cute. He was right, no one could be freaked out by them. Ray stayed constantly close to his brother as if they were attached by an invisible thread and because Roy let Viv pet him, Ray did too.

‘We’ll sort out the horses next,’ said Heath, giving the goats a final pet. They butted against his legs when he stopped stroking them as if they wanted more.

Viv started to feel her anxiety levels spike as they entered the paddock.

Heath opened their stable door and turned the horses out into the field. Roger seemed in no rush to venture outside, but the lure of fresh grass worked instantly on Keith. Heath blocked Keith’s first steps out of the stable with his body. Even he, with his towering height, was dwarfed by the old horse.

‘I need to check his front hoof. He had a stone in it recently and he cut his foot. Never stand where a horse has a chance of kicking you. Even one as docile as Keith can kill you.’

As Heath stood in front of Keith’s leg and tapped it, the old horse offered up his hoof for him to inspect. Heath bent down and tilted the foot up so that he could look at the underneath. Keith leaned on him a little, since he was now standing on three legs.

Viv was horrified. ‘You don’t need me to do that, do you?’

‘Er no,’ Heath returned, with a note of alarm. ‘I can trust you with a bucket and a tap though, can’t I? The horse trough needs filling.’

Viv grabbed the bucket and filled it with water from the tap on the wall. Roger came wandering over to her and Viv flinched.

‘Don’t make sudden movements, it makes him nervous. Give me your hand,’ Heath ordered. Viv lifted her arm gingerly and Heath took hold of it and extended it towards Roger’s long nose.

‘He won’t bite you,’ said Heath, reining in his impatience with her. ‘Just stroke him.’

Viv placed her hand on Roger’s nose, smoothed her hand down the rough hair as the horse stood, head bent, allowing her to do it.

‘He’d let you do that all day. But you don’t have time,’ said Heath. ‘Grab those two pitchforks. They need fresh bedding. Move the dirty stuff to the side and I’ll load it onto the compost heap later.’

As they forked out the old straw in the stable and replaced it with new, Viv thought she’d tell Heath what she’d read the previous evening.

‘I saw an article about Nicholas Leighton in an online magazine. One of those that makes
Tatler
look like
Women by Women
. Did you know that he’d been made a patron of an animal charity?’ she said, more than a little part of her hoping that he’d realise a fresh pair of eyes on the matter would help after all.

‘Rockin’ Horses,’ he replied, flattening her expectations. ‘Yeah, I know.’

‘Doesn’t that work in your favour?’ Viv stretched a niggle out of her back. ‘I mean, wouldn’t the newspapers be interested in a story about a man who is allied to . . .’

‘ . . . an animal charity,’ he finished the sentence off for her. ‘Do you know, Miss Blackbird, we never thought of that.’ He didn’t miss a beat as he heaped fresh straw onto the stable floor.

‘You’re being sarcastic aren’t you?’ Viv said tentatively.

‘Very,’ said Heath. ‘Trust me, we have tried everything. Every-little-thing. Do you know how much the man is worth? Don’t you think that buys editors and favours wherever he wants them? The government is pushing for new housing everywhere; Leighton is seen as a hero for providing it. He’s publicly offered to help pay the cost of shifting the animals from the rundown ancient place to shinier, better homes; he even offered to give me one of his new houses –
give me –
although I told him at the time that he could shove it up—’ He cut the sentence off, but it was obvious where Nicholas Leighton could put it. ‘He has a PR team working for him that can make the Angel Gabriel look sordid if placed next to him. Tell me, who do you think the newspapers would paint as the benefactor and who the stroppy, selfish ingrate who is digging his heels in?’