Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage

by Milly Johnson

  ‘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 w
as 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.

  She wondered how long it would be before Leanne asked about the situation with her father’s will. It was ten minutes.

  Chapter 56

  Viv sat with a hot water bottle on her back against the chair, as Geraldine insisted. She’d panicked initially because her back was her Achilles heel, but really she knew she was fine although she’d probably have a beauty of a bruise tomorrow. She wasn’t hurt half as much as Armstrong must be; she felt so sorry for him.

  ‘Do you want Heath to run you up to the hospital when he gets back?’ asked Geraldine.

  ‘No, I’m okay,’ said Viv.

  ‘That poor boy,’ sighed Geraldine, ‘I could weep for Armstrong.’ Pilot nudged his nose under her arm for affection. ‘I don’t know why Heath ever gave that Leighton girl the time of day in the first place. Attraction or no attraction, it couldn’t go anywhere, could it?’

  ‘It worked for Alfred and Cecilia,’ Viv smiled gently.

  Geraldine huffed. ‘Cecilia was a lady, the last decent Leighton to live in the castle. I bet she’s turning in her grave at what’s been going on.’

  ‘I heard Antonia say she’d tried to help,’ said Viv. She had been trying not to listen in on their conversation, but admittedly not very hard.

  ‘Poppycock,’ humphed Geraldine. ‘She thought she had Heath right where she wanted him.’

  ‘He was sort of allowing her to think that though,’ Viv countered.

  Geraldine turned her gentle grey eyes full beam onto Viv.

  ‘Oh my love, sometimes you haven’t a clue how far you’ve become trapped in a spider’s web until you try and leave it.’ She shook her head as if revisiting an unpleasant memory.

  ‘Is that what happened to you, Geraldine?’ asked Viv.

  ‘Biggest spider of them all.’ Geraldine pushed her fingers through Pilot’s fur. His head was nodding as his eyes shuttered down. ‘When my mum died I was a wreck. There had always just been me and her, no brothers or sisters, and I never knew my dad. Oh, I loved her so much and then she was gone. I felt completely lost and alone. I wanted someone to love me again.’ Geraldine’s lips puckered. ‘Some people can smell your vulnerability from miles off. I was ripe for picking by this . . . man. Oh he was so kind, so gentle in the beginning. He was everything I wanted, everything I needed as if he’d been made especially for me. He drowned me in love and affection and flowers.’ She laughed. ‘He swept me off my feet, Viv. It was a mad wonderful whirl. Nothing was too much trouble. I was the centre of his world. I was supposed to think that. I was supposed to feel safe. So when little things started to go wrong, I shooed them away because they didn’t belong in my perfect picture of him. I put any blame on my own judgement. It’s hard to imagine you walk into that web yourself with your eyes open and have disabled all your own alarm bells because you want to trust and believe in someone. And even when that spider’s back is turned and you think you’ve got a chance of leaving, you don’t. Because he’s got you on a string and you’ll only be able to go so far before you feel him pulling you back.’ Geraldine placed her coarse hand over Viv’s softer, smaller one. She couldn’t open up all those boxes in her head again. So many of them filled with all the things he had done to her. He’d killed their baby when she’d been growing inside her. He’d made her life a living hell and he followed her into her dreams. There was no respite from him, not even in sleep. She didn’t want Viv to think badly of her, for what she’d had to do in the end.

  ‘I took some pills, Viv. It was the only way I could think of to escape. And then I woke up in hospital with him beside me, holding my hand. I hadn’t got away from him.’

  Viv felt her squeeze. ‘But you did get away, eventually,’ she said.

  Geraldine swallowed. She wanted to tell Viv so she did. ‘I tried to kill him in the end. The night I went to prison was the first time in years that I slept properly.’

  She turned to Viv hoping not to see condemnation in her eyes, but all that was there was warmth and the gloss of tears.

  Ironmist is full of people like me, Viv, Geraldine wanted to say but she wouldn’t because she couldn’t give up the secrets of other people who lived here, the ones tortured by mistakes, the ones who had been accused of things they hadn’t done but were never able to escape the shadows, people who had helped their loved ones in pain. They’d all been led here by something outside their understanding. She didn’t think they could survive anywhere else.

  ‘People make mistakes, I know that,’ said Viv. ‘Sometimes they do terrible things when they can’t see a way out.’

  She knew it only too well. It was why she had come here.

  Chapter 57

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Ian, as he switched off the bedside light. ‘I could turn that other bedroom into a dressing room. How do you fancy that?’

  ‘The other bedroom?’ exclaimed Stel. She didn’t even know he’d been in it. ‘That’s Viv’s room.’

  She felt Ian’s hands slip around her back and start stroking her and she knew he was starting his sexual routine. She was tired and didn’t want to tonight. And that encounter with Al was sitting heavily with her. Too much had changed in a short time and she wasn’t sure she liked things moving so fast any more.

  ‘Viv’s gone. Are you going to be one of those mothers who keep a shrine to the children?’

  He started caressing her breasts and kissing her neck.

  ‘Did you notice the For Sale notice outside next door’s house?’ asked Stel.

  Ian stopped his ministrations and flicked on the bedside light.

  ‘Stelly, have you noticed that I’m trying to make love to you and you’re rabbiting on about For Sale signs? Talk about a passion killer.’ He laughed. ‘Now, I’m putting the light off and we’ll start again.’

  ‘Ian . . .’ she pressed her hand against his naked chest.
‘Not tonight, eh. I’m a bit tired.’

  ‘I’ll make it quick.’

  ‘No, not tonight.’

  ‘What’s this about?’

  ‘Nothing, I’m just not in the mood.’

  He stared at her, eyes roving over her face, then his eyebrows lifted in realisation.

  ‘Oh, I see,’ he nodded. ‘You’re upset about Al.’ His tone was soft, understanding so she presumed it would be all right to be honest.

  ‘I am a bit. He was so . . .’

  Ian swung his legs out of the bed and reached for his underpants.

  ‘I’ll go home,’ he announced gruffly.

  ‘No, I . . . don’t do that.’

  ‘I should go.’ He pulled on his socks quickly, grabbed his shirt.

  ‘Why?’ Stel scrabbled on the carpet for her dressing gown.

  ‘Look. I really like you, Stel, really like you,’ said Ian, fastening the buttons up on his shirt at full speed. ‘I thought that maybe, just maybe, you were feeling the same way about me that I was about you. Yes, it’s early days but I want to be with you. I think about you all the time and I’m sorry I suggested that a space that no one uses any more would make a lovely dressing room’ – he pulled up his trousers so fast that he slightly toppled – ‘for you, not for me, for you. When you’re our age, what’s wrong with moving a bit faster?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Stel. She didn’t want him to leave her. ‘I was just tired . . .’

  ‘No you weren’t, you were thinking about him next door.’ Ian’s voice raised as he sneered at the dividing wall.

  ‘I wasn’t,’ Stel protested. ‘Oh please, don’t go.’

  ‘I am going to go and I’ll see you tomorrow at work. It’ll be hard but we can be civil to each other.’

  He was finishing with her. She jumped out of bed. ‘Oh Ian, don’t end it. What have I said?’ She felt panic claim all her limbs, they felt shaky and numb.

  ‘Look, it’s fine. You can move on to Al next door and I’ll take Meredith up on her offer.’