Geraldine gave a small laugh. ‘Okay, Viv . . . Right, where was I? Oh yes. Well, it wasn’t that hard for the Leightons to acquire the land in the end using a third-party agent. They bulldozed Kate’s house and nothing could be done about it.’ Geraldine sighed heavily. ‘Kate was heartbroken by their underhandedness. She hadn’t been in the nursing home above a few months when she died.’
‘How very sad,’ said Viv.
‘Ruthless. That’s what the Leightons are,’ said Geraldine with a snap in her voice that Viv guessed was foreign to her nature. ‘Kate Cooper-Smith loved animals though. She knew how much we needed an injection of cash to survive and thank God she gave it to us. She threw us a true lifeline.’
‘Have you never opened up to the public?’ asked Viv. ‘Hawk displays, petting zoos, that sort of thing.’
‘No, nothing like that.’ From Geraldine’s reaction, that wasn’t a popular suggestion.
‘Don’t you get any funding to help you?’
‘Not any more, the Leightons have seen to that. They’ll be cursing Kate for doing what she did for us because they’ve tried consistently to cut off our financial blood supply. There isn’t much left in the coffers now, but at least it enables us to go on until the bitter end.’
‘The bitter end?’ Viv queried.
Geraldine’s hand flew up to her mouth. She really had said too much. Viv suspected that Geraldine had been starved of company and whatever secrets she was holding were weighing heavy on her. It only needed the slightest of nudges for them all to come tumbling out.
‘You can trust me to keep my mouth shut,’ Viv said.
‘Oh what the hell,’ said Geraldine with a resigned shake of the head. ‘It’ll all be common knowledge soon, if it isn’t already. Heath doesn’t own the land here. He leases it and that lease is up in July. It’s all such a mess, Viv.’
Viv could see there were tears gathering in Geraldine’s eyes. She was confused. She could have sworn Geraldine told her the house had been in Heath’s family for generations. ‘So, who does own the land then?’ Viv asked.
‘The Leightons, of course. They own everything around here. The land around Wildflower Cottage is the last piece of the jigsaw for them. And this is land that they know they can make a fortune out of.’
‘I’m not sure I understand.’
Geraldine’s hands came together with a soft clap.
‘Let’s go back to the beginning, one hundred and fifty years ago,’ she said. ‘Cecilia Leighton, the then heiress to Ironmist Castle, was in love with Heath’s great-grandfather, Alfred Merlot, but he was only a lowly groom in the stables. She wasn’t allowed to sell or give away any of the estate but she could lease some of it out. So she had documents drawn up to give her lover the maximum one-hundred-and-fifty-year lease on this land so he could build them a home to escape to, but for propriety’s sake, the house was to be listed as a sanctuary for the animals which they both so dearly wanted to protect. But poor Cecilia died before he had finished building this house, so the estate passed to her impoverished cousin Jasper, who no doubt couldn’t believe his luck. Obviously, he tried to claim back the land from Alfred Merlo, but Cecilia had made the lease watertight. So long as there were animals residing in this place that needed a sanctuary, the lease would stand.’
‘Poor Cecilia,’ said Viv, genuinely touched by her story.
‘Terribly sad and romantic, isn’t it? The lease, I imagine, was a formality they wouldn’t need when they defied convention and married. Or, if that proved to be impossible, they could live out their days in their own little world here. Alfred grieved for her for years. He eventually married a young girl from the next village who reminded him of Cecilia, because she also loved animals.’
‘Heath’s great-grandmother, presumably?’
‘That’s right. Nicholas Leighton wants to build a housing estate here, Viv. And once our lease is up, they will do it because they have everyone and their mother in their pockets,’ Geraldine continued, her lips tight with fury.
‘Why would they want to ruin this lovely place?’
‘Money. As if they haven’t got enough already. But that’s what the Leightons are like. They covet.’ She sighed heavily. ‘But we have to soldier on. I believe that we have powerful forces of nature on our side because this land was always meant to be a sanctuary and we will fight the Leightons for it. I have never thought that we wouldn’t win in the end.’
So the sanctuary might be closing down soon? That didn’t leave Viv a lot of time.
‘I might have only lived here for four years myself but it’s my home now and the only one I will ever want,’ Geraldine went on.
‘Where are you from originally?’
‘Down south. I can’t tell you what a special place this is, Viv. You’ll discover that for yourself very quickly, I think.’
Viv smiled politely, but knew she wouldn’t. She would not be here long enough to let Ironmist get into her system.
‘The Leightons have to have what someone else owns, even if they don’t want it themselves. Land, people . . .’ She tucked her hair behind her ear and again Viv saw that silvery line of scar. ‘I hate them. I hate them for what they want to do to this beautiful valley.’
The phone gave a shrill ring and interrupted Geraldine’s flow. It couldn’t have been worse timing when they were knee deep in such an involved conversation.
Viv watched with some amusement as Geraldine picked up the telephone reticently, as if she were expecting it to explode in her hand.
‘Yes, she’s arrived,’ Geraldine was saying. Viv guessed this was the mysterious Heath, and he was firing a salvo of questions about her, if Geraldine’s somewhat guarded replies were anything to go by.
‘Nice . . . very good . . .Yes, a good choice . . . no . . . yes, Armstrong’s been wonderful . . . I don’t think that would be possible . . . still here . . .’ Geraldine was answering yet more questions, aware that she was being listened to at her end of the phone.
‘Oh, that’s a shame, well, we’ll see you when we see you. Take good care. Goodnight and may your dreams take flight.’
What a lovely expression, thought Viv.
‘That was Heath,’ said Geraldine, coming back to the table and collecting the empty soup bowls. ‘He wanted to know if you had landed and were still here.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time that someone arrived and drove straight off again.’
Viv was intrigued by him and wished he would hurry up and arrive so she could get a handle on him. She had always prided herself on being easy to get along with. She didn’t want any enemies here. She had enough to contend with, without that as a side issue.
‘So shall I start at nine in the morning then?’ she asked.
‘Or thereabouts,’ replied Geraldine. ‘We don’t have that rigid a timetable. The office is next door. I think a clever girl like you will be able to do the job in her sleep. I’ve made a list of what we need you to do. I’m not very computer savvy but I’m sure you are.’
Viv yawned. She hadn’t exactly exerted herself physically today but her brain had been extra busy collecting, storing and dissecting information and it had exhausted her. In mental terms, today had been the equivalent of a double-marathon run.
‘You get yourself off to bed,’ replied Geraldine. ‘I expect I’ve worn you out with all my talking. I’m sorry if I’ve spoken too much. You have to forgive me. Today is a date that I like to celebrate . . . Selwyn’s wines should be sold to the military as truth drugs.’
‘Is it your birthday?’ asked Viv.
‘Sort of,’ replied Geraldine with a soft smile. ‘Now, you go and relax and thank you for your company. I so want you to settle in and be happy here.’
‘I promise I will do my very best,’ Viv said and meant it, albeit temporarily. She wondered what a ‘sort of’ birthday was.
*
Geraldine washed up the soup bowls and dried them, looking out of the window as she did so. She never failed to be a
ware of what a beautiful place she had found in this sanctuary for the discarded, the unwanted, the damaged. Was it her birthday, Viv had asked her. Yes, it was. The third of May. Her birth-day. The day the new Geraldine had been born, the happier Geraldine, free Geraldine. Before that date four years ago, Geraldine Hartley had not existed at all.
Chapter 7
Viv woke to the sound of absolutely nothing. She hadn’t realised how much background noise there had been at home because she’d grown accustomed to it, but here there was only silence. She opened her eyes and just for a split second expected to see her own desk and chair, not the unfamiliar furniture of her new home, and her heart felt like a large stone in her chest. She didn’t want to be here at all and had to keep in focus that this was likely to be a very short-term appointment.
She swung her legs to the floor, crossed to the window and opened the curtains to see wisps of that low mist snaking around the hundreds of blue flowers. The sun was high and bright and shining on the hillside and on the rooftops of the houses which flanked the road up to the castle and beyond onto the moors. It was like looking at a beautiful picture square-framed by the wood of her window.
It was eight o’clock and her working day was to begin at nine. She had a dribbly shower and made herself some poached eggs and toast for breakfast. Geraldine was already in the kitchen when Viv walked in at ten to nine.
‘Morning, sleep well?’ Geraldine smiled a welcome. She was wearing another long hippy dress and Viv presumed that must be her usual style.
‘Very,’ she replied.
‘I’ve just brewed some tea. Would you like some?’
‘Yes ple— OH!’ Viv shrieked as something wet touched her hand and she whirled around to find the huge dog Pilot standing there, his long tail wafting gently from side to side.
‘He’s just saying good morning,’ chuckled Geraldine. ‘He likes to press his nose in your hand. It’s just a thing he does.’
Viv noticed Bub in his furry basket, looking at her through the slits of his eyes. The owl was in his ornate white-wire cage, standing on one leg, eyes closed.
‘Armstrong is out feeding the animals,’ replied Geraldine. ‘I’m grateful for his help because it doesn’t look as if Heath will be back today after all. Wonk isn’t walking right on her new leg yet.’
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.’
Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage Page 5