Sunshine Over Wildflower Cottage

by Milly Johnson

  ‘Morning, Vivienne. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘I’ve just had one. I’ll make a start,’ she returned. There was no way she could sit still at a table. She felt as if she were full of crickets. She checked her watch. Every minute was one less to have to wait. The best thing she could do was keep busy so she gave the stables a really good clear-out and turned over the compost heap and filled up a bath of water for the geese. Her stomach was in knots.

  Geraldine called over to her at eleven, insisting she take a break. Viv walked back, smiling at gentle Pilot as he stood wagging his tail in greeting at her outside the cottage door. Again she looked at those boxes in the back of Heath’s pick-up and wondered what they were doing there.

  ‘This is a message from Isme, you mark my words,’ said Geraldine, standing at the kitchen window and studying the fog.

  ‘I hope so,’ grinned Viv. When Leighton turned up doffing his Austin Reed cap, Geraldine would be totally convinced it was Isme’s doing and she’d be extra happy. Then Bub suddenly jumped up onto Viv’s knee and settled, kneading his claws into her jeans, but she was so taken aback that she let him, despite the pain.

  ‘Now, look at that,’ gasped Geraldine. ‘There’s something very strange going on this morning.’

  Heath didn’t join them. Viv hoped he might. She’d had such a wonderful evening and it had left her with a perfect memory. She thought about him saying goodnight to her on the doorstep of the folly. It would have been a perfect opportunity for him to kiss her if he was ever going to. That told her that she really ought to kill any hopes she had on that score. Still, she hadn’t ‘negotiated’ with Leighton because she thought Heath would fall in love with her and ask her to stay so she could benefit from the arrangement. She’d done it because it was the right thing for Geraldine and Heath and whoever he ended up kissing at the folly door. Hopefully not Antonia Leighton though. She imagined he would be a wonderful kisser.

  At twenty-five to twelve, Viv swilled out her cup and noticed that the sun was at last managing to push through the fog. At the top of the hill, the castle stood like a black smudge and she wondered what activity was going on inside its walls now.

  The crickets in her body had turned into giant grasshoppers. By twelve they’d be kangeroos. Viv doubted that her nerves would ever sit still again. When she went back out to collect the eggs, the first thing she noticed was that the two black boxes had gone from Heath’s pick-up. Why had he come for them without bobbing his head into the kitchen unless he was avoiding her? There was something he wasn’t telling her, which was ironic really, seeing as she was probably winning by a country mile on the ‘something I’m not telling you’ front.

  Her feet gathered pace the closer she got to the bird compound. She saw Heath closing Ursula’s aviary carrying one of the black boxes. He had fresh scratches on his hands. The aviary was empty.

  ‘What’s going on?’ she asked. But she knew. ‘Oh don’t.’ Her face crumpled.

  ‘Viv . . .’

  ‘This is why you wanted me to fly her last night, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh Viv.’ Oh, he wanted to put his arms around her so much, but he knew that if he put his arms around her at this moment, she would fight him just like Ursula had. ‘I’ve found her such a good home. The best. I planned to set off this morning before you got up so you wouldn’t have to see her go. I wanted last night to be the goodbye you’d remember. Bloody fog.’

  Viv took a quick look at her watch. How could she delay him for twenty minutes without him smelling a rat.

  ‘You can’t go yet. The . . . fog hasn’t cleared,’ she said.

  ‘It’s just in the valley now. If I take it carefully up the hill, it’ll be clear on the top road.’

  ‘I need to see her.’ Viv dropped to her knees. The box had no window in it, just discreet air-holes. ‘Please take her out.’ Crying would help manipulate him and she tried to force tears out. They came too easily.

  ‘Viv, that wouldn’t be fair on Ursula. It’s taken me ages to get her in and it would stress her.’

  Heath felt like crap. Viv’s distress was genuine and wounded him. It mattered to him that her memories of this day would be stronger than those of last night.

  ‘Who’s in the other box?’ asked Viv, unable to wipe the tears away as fast as they flowed.

  ‘James,’ said Heath, head bowed. James the gentle great grey owl had been completely the opposite to Ursula – so easy to put in, but it didn’t make Heath feel that he had betrayed him any the less, in fact probably more so because James trusted him.

  Why the hell doesn’t Leighton come? Viv wanted to scream. What difference could a quarter of an hour make? He was trying to claw some power back. She had a good mind to ring and tell him that she was going to the newspapers NOW and see his sorry backside spin into action. But she knew she couldn’t, because she had made a deal and if she moved the goalposts, he would assume she would move others.

  ‘Can I have five minutes just sitting with her then?’ asked Viv. ‘Please.’

  ‘Course. I’ll go and . . . do something.’

  He wanted to reach out and touch her arm, just make contact but he knew she would pull away. He walked off and Viv sat on the floor between the two boxes. She placed a hand on either one, hoping they’d know she was there and that they’d be all right. James was deathly still in his box, Ursula was trying to flap inside hers.

  What if Leighton doesn’t come? A wave of nausea rose inside Viv’s stomach and she felt physically sick. Then she really would have to say goodbye to Ursula today. Teardrops carried on rolling down her face and felt like they were dragging her skin with them.

  Her five minutes were up and more; he’d let her have extra time. She saw Heath heading back. She didn’t get up from the floor until she had to but made a pretence of struggling, rubbing a pain in her back that didn’t exist. Anything to delay him by seconds because she needed every one of them.

  Heath lifted the boxes and carried them too easily, despite their weight. Viv followed him, slowly, hoping her pace dragged him back and it did, but only a little.

  It was minutes away from noon and Leighton hadn’t come. And there was no sign of him either because in the stillness of this strange fog, a car’s engine would probably be heard from the bottom of Ironmist Hill. Viv’s lip started to tremble. Leighton must have found a way to forge ahead with his original plans. A picture of him sitting smug on a throne, phone in his hand, waiting for her to call so he could deliver his death stroke, flashed into her head.

  Heath was talking to her, saying something about the sanctuary in Northallerton being fabulous, but her brain had no room for it.

  Heath hadn’t told Geraldine either that he was letting Ursula and James go. She came out of the kitchen to find him loading the boxes on the back seat of his pick-up and her hands shot to her face.

  ‘We have to,’ said Heath, getting into the driver’s seat. ‘You both know that.’

  It was after twelve now. Heath slammed into first gear and Geraldine and Viv held onto each other watching the pick-up and its beloved cargo disappear into the fog.

  Chapter 88

  Maria walked up to the reception desk and knocked on it because Stel looked miles away.

  ‘Earth to Stel.’

  ‘Sorry, I was er . . . in a world of my own there.’ Oh, how I wish I were, she thought.

  ‘Ian sent me round to say that lunch is prepared in the garden.’ Maria winked and followed it with a grin.

  ‘Oh I’m too busy,’ Stel replied, with a regretful smile. ‘Would you do me a favour and tell him that you’ve asked me to work through my lunch because there’s so much to do?’

  ‘I certainly will not,’ tutted Maria. ‘Get yourself out there and have a break. The union will be down on us like a ton of bricks if we start doing stuff like that. Come on, up and out with you.’

  ‘Maria, I’m not hungry,’ replied Stel in as loud a whisper as she dare. ‘But I don’t want to hurt his feelings.�
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  Maria brought her hands to her hips. ‘Stel Blackbird. How long have you waited for a considerate fella and now you’ve got one. So just go and sit in the flaming sunshine with him even if you don’t want to eat anything.’

  ‘Please. It’s really . . . sweet of him but I’ve got a work head on and I want to do all this whilst I’m in the mood.’ She picked up a conveniently nearby file.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  ‘Tsk. Okay then,’ said Maria and set off back to the kitchen area, hips swinging as she walked.

  Stel closed her eyes and wondered how long she could go on like this. She’d lost nearly half a stone in a week from stress. She’d thought about going to the police but then imagined Ian finding out and pressing a nuclear-type big red button that sent those photos EVERYWHERE.

  Maria came back.

  ‘I told him you insisted on working through your lunch because you’re too conscientious for your own good . . .’

  No, I wanted you to tell him that YOU insisted I work.

  ‘ . . . he said you can make it up to him at home,’ said Maria, giving her eyebrows a saucy raise.

  Chapter 89

  As Heath reached the end of the drive, a silver car came speeding out of the fog down the hill. It was Nicholas Leighton’s Range Rover. Heath’s lip twitched in disgust as he turned left but Leighton was blasting his horn, demanding his attention. Heath braked and lowered his window. Leighton leaned out of his and said, ‘Merlo, I want to talk to you.’

  ‘Leighton, I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

  ‘If you want to make an eleventh-hour deal, I suggest that you turn around now.’

  ‘Are you joking?’ replied Heath.

  ‘Just turn the fucking car around and I’ll follow you up the drive.’

  Leighton sounded hacked off. As Heath negotiated a three-point turn he had no doubt that whatever ‘deal’ Leighton might have come up with had nothing to do with altruism and everything to do with how any change in his plan might benefit him first and foremost. But he’d listen because any straw was worth grabbing at.

  *

  Geraldine wiped her eyes on her sleeve. They had held back the tide as much as they could, but James and Ursula’s leaving was the klaxon that they had failed. Their safe little world was starting to crumble.

  Just as Viv was about to go into the kitchen, she cocked her ear as the sound of Heath’s pick-up engine was increasing in volume, not decreasing.

  ‘He’s coming back,’ said Geraldine, as the shape of the vehicle punched into the fog. Neither of them saw the Range Rover following until it was nearly in the car parking area as it was camouflaged by the mist.

  ‘Who’s that?’ said Viv, realising what a crap actress she was, as she knew perfectly well whose car it was.

  ‘Leighton,’ said Geraldine. ‘What’s he doing here?’

  Thank You God. Thank you Isme. Thank you Buddha, Vishnu, Allah, Cleopatra, General Custer . . . whoever sent him, thank you, said Viv inwardly.

  Heath got out of the car and lifted the two owl boxes into the kitchen, closing Piccolo’s cage so he didn’t fly out and freak Leighton, though he was tempted to loosen the catch on Ursula’s box.

  Nicholas Leighton stalked into the kitchen blasting out vibes of arrogance and carrying a gusset folder. He did not deign to acknowledge Viv, other than with a cursory glance as his eyes swept from one side of the room to the other, like a war-time searchlight.

  ‘Bloody fog,’ he muttered. ‘Couldn’t make out the road.’

  Was that said for her benefit, thought Viv. Had he tried to regain some control in the situation by leaving his visit until the last possible moment, then not realised how bad the weather conditions were?

  ‘What’s this about, Leighton?’ Heath folded his arms across his broad chest.

  ‘Can we talk in private?’

  Viv made to go, but Heath stopped her.

  ‘Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of all of us.’

  Viv daren’t make a fuss. She had to act as naturally as possible.

  ‘All right,’ Leighton said. ‘I’ve got a proposition. Keep the land. I’ll sign it over.’

  Geraldine gasped. Viv thought she’d better do an open-mouth thing too.

  Heath stared unblinkingly at him waiting for the catch. The silence in the room was thicker than the fog outside until Heath smashed it.

  ‘Just like that?’

  ‘Obviously not “just like that”.’ Leighton gave his lip a nervous or aggressive chew, it could have been either. ‘It would be more in keeping with my long-term strategies to abandon the project rather than revitalise the valley.’

  Heath let this sink in and his brain worked on what Nicholas Leighton really meant by it.

  ‘So, cutting through the bull, you’ve discovered that philanthropy is a better way to power you further into orbit than by demolishing your local animal sanctuary. Is that what you’re saying? Because if it is, I could have told you that. In fact, I think I did, quite a few times as I remember.’

  ‘Maybe . . .’ Nicholas’s lips formed into a grim line. It appeared as if this conversation was ripping his soul out via his throat. ‘It has been suggested . . . that if you were to comply with the theory that I resisted pressure to develop the valley because ultimately I consider this land best serves the immediate community as an area of natural beauty, animal welfare and English heritage, that would be . . . helpful.’ He paused, waiting for Heath to respond. He didn’t so he carried on. ‘It could also be seen as a gesture of magnanimity to honour an historic contract between two families which should never have expired.’

  There was a long electric silence then Heath nodded slowly. Leighton couldn’t have been more transparent if he tried.

  ‘My legal team have put together this which outlines everything.’ Leighton handed Heath the folder. ‘There are stipulations. The land must never be sold or given away for building development. It must remain as a sanctuary and a centre for animal welfare. A veterinary practice would be permitted.’

  Viv swallowed down the cheer bubbling up in her throat.

  ‘You will not defame me or my family, publicly or privately. You will let it be known, if asked, that we reached this agreement mutually and cordially, though my initial motives for utilising the land for much-needed housing were understandable. In return, I will agree to recommend funding for you from third-parties and . . .’

  This bit is really going to stick in his craw, thought Viv as he coughed the words out.

  ‘ . . . upon signature of contract, I will direct some revenue to you from the Ironmist estate charitable funds. I will need you to submit accounts and my office will work out a sum of suitable remuneration.’

  The room was sucked into a vacuum. Nothing moved. Even Jason Statham didn’t scuffle around in his straw.

  Then Heath blew out his cheeks and smoothed his hand down the back of his unruly dark hair.

  ‘This isn’t a joke?’

  ‘Don’t be obtuse,’ snapped Leighton.

  ‘When do I get my guarantee that you won’t change your mind?’ asked Heath.

  ‘Now,’ said Leighton. And he held out his hand.

  *

  Viv walked with Heath down to the bird compound. He was obviously still in shock and Viv did her best to display the same depth of amazement. She would never have won an Oscar for best actress.

  She’d shared no eye contact with Nicholas Leighton, not even on his exit. But then he had not acknowledged Geraldine either. She had called him a male chauvinist pig when his car set off down the drive then immediately clamped her hands over her mouth because she had broken the terms of the contract already.

  James flew straight up to his branch. He was none the wiser or the worse for being shut up in the bird carrier. He took the conciliatory mouse as adequate recompense for his inconvenience and carried on with his comfortable existence. Ursula, contrarily, had to be tipped out of the box, after almost severing H
eath’s wrist to be put in. She too accepted the peace-offering and that was that.

  ‘Viv, I cannot go back into that kitchen,’ said Heath, coming to a sudden halt on the path. ‘Geraldine will go into Isme overload.’

  ‘Can you blame her?’ smiled Viv.

  He looked so big and strong and happy and as if someone had ironed the furrows from his forehead.

  ‘I daren’t go to sleep tonight. I’ll wake up and find it was all a dream,’ grinned Heath.

  ‘Just watch out you don’t find Nicholas Leighton having a shower in your bathroom,’ said Viv, tilting her face to look at him.

  ‘I just can’t believe it.’ Heath laughed as the joy rose up in him like a geyser and he grabbed Viv up from the ground and whirled her round as if she were as light as air. Her face was on a level with his and he smelled of cedarwood and a deep forest in early summer and his eyes were green and shiny and suddenly his lips were on hers and her arms were round his neck and it felt as if a million birds were fluttering in her stomach. The kiss lasted seconds yet it would take her hours to come down from it, even though she knew it had only happened because of a momentary surge of euphoria.

  ‘I can’t believe it either,’ said Viv as he set her back down and she tried to act normal but there was a fat chance of that when her brain was sparking like a Catherine Wheel.

  They walked back to the house where Geraldine was waiting for them with the kettle on and a heartful of supernatural theories.

  Chapter 90

  At five o’clock, Ian wandered over to the reception area to meet Stel who had been fretting all afternoon about the possible repercussions of Maria telling him that she had snubbed his lunch invitation. He smiled in greeting, he helped her on with her coat and crooked his arm so she could link him on the way out. He talked pleasantries on the drive home and asked her what she wanted to watch on the TV. He ordered a Chinese for them both and asked her if she felt all right because she hardly touched it, but he did not mention anything about lunchtime. The house felt as if a massive thunder cloud had filled it, choking every room with dread because Stel wasn’t fooled by his friendly, chivalrous demeanour. Stel wanted to scream at him to bring on whatever he was intending to do and get it over and done with because she knew that this black cloud was aching to let rip with thunder and lightning and sheet rain.