A Year at Meadowbrook Manor

by Faith Bleasdale

  ‘I didn’t realise how much I loved this place until I came back. Now I can’t imagine leaving. Well, I won’t because I’m invested. I’m at a local practice and I have the sanctuary. It keeps me out of trouble.’ His eyes twinkled, years melted away. ‘But what about you?’

  ‘I’ve made a monumental mess of my life. But can we leave it at that?’ Harriet asked. ‘And as I’m here I wondered if you would be able to show me this famous animal sanctuary. I seem to be the only one that hasn’t seen it.’ She knew she sounded brusque but it was the only way she could keep it together. Ever since tears had visited last night, they kept threatening to return.

  ‘So you’re going to do it?’ Connor asked, eagerly. ‘You’re going to stay here just as your dad wanted?’

  ‘It looks like it,’ Harriet replied and was utterly surprised as Connor picked her up and spun her around.

  ‘And they said there wasn’t room to swing a cat in this kitchen,’ he joked as he put her down. She raised her eyebrows but couldn’t help giggling like a schoolgirl. ‘Honestly, Harry,’ he still hadn’t taken his arms away, it felt warm, ‘I am so pleased. Not just about Andrew’s wishes, or Meadowbrook, or even the animals, but about the fact that we’re all back together.’

  ‘Just like the good old days,’ Harriet mumbled.

  ‘Are you up for looking for toads then?’ Connor joked. ‘Or perhaps climbing trees to study squirrels?’

  ‘Nope, but I am interested in seeing these animals. Although, I really do need that coffee first.’

  The day was warming up as they set off from Connor’s cottage, out through his back garden gate and across the fields to the rescue centre.

  ‘There’s a couple of buildings,’ Connor explained. ‘One for the dogs, another for cats, and an office. Of course, the animals who live in the fields also have sheds, or shelters and they are largely taken in at night. We have only two full-time staff here, who are on rota, but we have a few part-timers, and also a number of volunteers from the village, which means that we are quite well staffed. I tend to make sure the animals are all OK myself before I go to bed and, of course, any medical issues come under my jurisdiction. All the paperwork is in the office.’ His face became animated when he spoke, it was as if someone had switched his light on.

  ‘It sounds well organised.’ Harriet was already wondering where she and her siblings would fit in.

  ‘It is. Although we are feeling Andrew’s absence keenly. We’re not enormous, by any means, and we’ve been lucky to get quite a few of our domestic animals rehomed, but there are always more coming in and some of our animals are definitely here to stay. Until recently there was even a cockatiel, Hamlet. He could never get rehomed because he swore like a sailor, so not exactly a family pet.’

  ‘How did he come to live here?’

  ‘His owner, an elderly fisherman, died and his daughter who’s local brought him over to us. Your dad had a rule: no animal gets turned away. Unfortunately he died, Hamlet that is. Anyway, running this place is costly, there’s food, shelter, the paid staff and we also try to raise awareness, there’s enough to keep you all busy.’

  ‘If you pay staff, surely £25,000 isn’t enough to keep the place running for a year?’ Harriet’s head was already juggling figures.

  ‘No, but the wages are taken care of in a trust your father set up, and we also have a number of regular donations. I’ll talk you through all the paperwork, but yes, the twenty-five grand is what we need on top of what we already have, to make sure we can stay open this year.’

  ‘My God, you know last week I was in New York, screaming at men in suits because we were about to lose millions of dollars when the markets dipped and now I am supposed to raise money for cockatiels with Tourette’s. Who on earth thought my life could come to this?’ She smiled, sadly.

  ‘Harry, it might be small fry compared to what you are used to but what we do is important,’ Connor snapped.

  ‘I’m not denying that, I’m not being rude.’ She was suddenly reminded of how she and Connor used to bicker a lot, and they were on the cusp of it now. She was annoyed, after all she was the one who had just had the rug pulled from under her, but again, she knew that she needed to make an effort. ‘I’m sorry, it’s just a lot to take in.’ Harriet shook her head, Connor pursed his lips as he did when he disapproved. God, he was still a judgemental pain in the arse. Some things never changed.

  They were still silent as they reached the first field.

  ‘That’s Sebastian and Samantha, they’re alpacas,’ he pointed out. Harriet raised her eyebrows as she looked at the two of them striding around the field, she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen an alpaca close up. ‘It became fashionable to knit with their wool, so some bright spark decided that they’d do just that. Only they couldn’t take care of them, or knit for that matter,’ Connor laughed, as if she was forgiven and Harriet couldn’t help but grin. She relaxed slightly. ‘They are what we call lifers.’

  ‘They’re beautiful,’ although that wasn’t quite the right description. They looked almost regal, she thought. Connor took her over to meet them. They looked at her, slightly suspiciously, but they let Connor pet them, and then, feeling brave, she did the same.

  ‘The donkey is Gerald, he’s quite old but very sweet and he’s pals with the miniature ponies, Clover and Cookie.’ Harriet followed Connor into the next paddock. Gerald ambled over and greeted them with an ear-busting hee-haw.

  ‘Oh my, they are so cute.’ Harriet watched the two tiny ponies as they grazed under the watchful eye of Gerald. She’d never seen ponies that small.

  ‘Yes, but again, they were suffering before they came to us, luckily we were able to bring them here. Gerald, well he was abandoned. You’d be amazed at how many animals just get left to fend for themselves. But Gerald seems to parent the ponies, which is quite sweet really.’

  ‘What is wrong with people?’ Harriet stormed. She felt impassioned, which took her by surprise.

  In another field there were two large pigs and three goats.

  ‘The pigs were micropigs that turned out to be full-size pot-bellied, there was no way the owner could keep them in her bungalow,’ Connor explained. ‘Betsy and Buddy.’

  ‘They’re enormous,’ Harriet laughed and, as she looked out at the fields and the animals, she felt herself begin to relax. She remembered her outdoorsy childhood and although the animal sanctuary wasn’t here when she was growing up, it was beginning to feel more like home.

  ‘And the goats are Piper, Flo and Romeo.’ Connor pointed to the three goats who were happily munching grass. One of them came over to where they stood, looking at them hopefully.

  ‘Hi, Romeo,’ Connor said, picking some grass and handing it to him through the fence.

  ‘Where’s Juliet?’ Harriet quipped.

  ‘That’s why he’s here, because he lost his Juliet. She died, and they thought he would too, he wouldn’t eat, and when they asked me to look at him, I could tell he had a broken heart, so I suggested trying to bring him here to be with Piper and Flo.’

  ‘Oh my goodness, that’s so sad.’ Harriet didn’t like to add that she knew how Romeo felt. Part of her wanted to pine and never eat again. Over a job not a lover in her case though.

  ‘Luckily when he came they all seemed to get on, and he’s perked right up.’

  ‘A sort of goat ménage à trois?’

  ‘Let’s hope not,’ Connor laughed. ‘Piper and Flo are sisters.’

  Harriet laughed. Whether it was the warm morning breeze, being able to see lush fields and so much open space, she didn’t know, but she felt as if she could breathe a bit. Perhaps she could do this. She felt the breeze in her hair and her head cleared a bit, or at least the fog shifted slightly to the left.

  ‘OK, well we have chickens over there.’ He pointed to another field which held a very elaborate looking henhouse as well as space for them to run. ‘They’re all ex-battery hens but they do lay eggs – at times – and we try to rescue as many chic
kens as possible. They come to us in such a dreadful state but we mostly get them happy and healthy again. Although, and you have to get used to this, we do lose some of our animals.’

  ‘I guess they all have names too?’ Harriet asked. She hated to think about the cruelty aspect to the sanctuary, or animals dying. She knew it went on but she didn’t want to give herself nightmares. She might be a hard-nosed city woman but she had a heart. It was just a bit of a well-kept secret at the moment.

  ‘All named after Jane Austen characters, one of our staff, Jenni, is a huge fan so we let her name them. And she can tell them apart, but the rest of us get them mixed up.’

  ‘The chickens look kind of the same to me,’ Harriet said, looking at them.

  ‘Don’t tell Jenni that. There are also some geese, they sort of roam around, they’re quite tame, so you can approach them but don’t scare them. And in the far field two Highland bulls.’ He pointed and she looked across. They were enormous, and quite magnificent with their horned heads and shaggy coats. ‘They’re best friends. About a year ago I had a call about them and, well, it wasn’t easy as they aren’t always the friendliest of animals but we managed to get them here. They clearly adore each other, barely leave each other’s side, but they can be aggressive to any other animal and some humans, although they’re fine if you approach them properly. Still, we keep them on their own, we named them Elton and David.’

  ‘Gay bulls? Are you joking?’ Harriet looked at Connor but he had already turned his attention to other animals.

  ‘And if you look at the far side of the field just beyond the ponies, you’ll see that in the shelter we have our blind sheep and her guide lamb. Agnes and Abigail.’ Harriet looked to where Connor pointed and saw two white dots.

  ‘How come she’s blind?’

  ‘She was attacked by a crow when she was pregnant, blinded, but she managed to deliver a healthy baby and the lamb, Abigail, became her “guide lamb”. No good to the farmer so he brought them to us. They trot around together quite happily, it’s very sweet, but we do take extra special care of them, almost like domestic pets.’

  ‘God, Connor, the stories, they’re quite sad.’ Harriet wiped fresh tears from her eyes, for someone who never cried she was suddenly finding it a bit too easy. Poor heartbroken Romeo, the neglected gay cows, the blind sheep and her lamb who took care of her, the ex-battery hens, not to mention the domestic animals. It was so, so tragic. No wonder her father had invested so much in this.

  Her threatening tears came, suddenly. Connor put his arm around her shoulders. She felt warm, she almost felt safe as her body danced with sobs that wouldn’t subside. There was so much heartbreak, not just hers. She wasn’t going to feel sorry for herself, not when there were others who had it so much worse. Even if they were animals.

  ‘Let’s go and meet the animals properly. But, Harry, they’re happy, they’re safe, your father was so committed to this place, it was his vision and his dream to have it, mine too, but I couldn’t have done it without him. Anyway, before we go any further, I better warn you that this,’ he swept his free arm around, ‘gets to you.’

  ‘It already has,’ Harriet replied and she looked at Connor who was blurred through her tears and she let him hold her as she cried some more.

  Chapter 8

  Freddie stood on the drive, smoking and shouting into his mobile phone as Harriet jogged up.

  ‘Hey,’ she said.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he asked after he hung up. He looked dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot, hair a mess, and reeked of smoke. But she wasn’t going to bring that up now. He looked as if he needed help, not a lecture.

  ‘I went for a run. Anyway, who were you talking to?’ The run was helping to clear the air after the past couple of days.

  ‘Loretta. She’s still away, but I was filling her in about the will stuff. Quite rightly, she thinks it’s a bit mad, but anyway she said she’d support me.’

  ‘That’s nice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, although the line was bad, so she may not have done.’ Confusions etched his face momentarily. ‘Anyway, you’ll get to meet her when she’s back.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it.’ Harriet grinned.

  ‘However, it leaves me with a bit of a problem. I have no clothes here, well only a limited wardrobe and I could go to London to collect some more but, well, they aren’t exactly appropriate for the country.’ Ah, Harriet understood. They were expected to muck in with the sanctuary, as per her father’s instructions, and she had assured Connor they would be starting as soon as they got the chance to discuss it. But, as she looked at her designer trainers, she realised that she didn’t have anything suitable to wear either.

  ‘Oh God. I’m in the same boat. I left most of my stuff in New York, not that any of my clothes would be good for feeding chickens or mucking out ponies.’

  ‘We need country clothes,’ Freddie laughed. ‘But we have a cash-flow problem, remember?’

  ‘Oh, goodness. What the hell are we going to do?’ This was where her father’s wishes began to hit home. They had a tiny amount to spend, no access to their own money – they’d handed it all over to David yesterday – and as far as Harriet could see, not many suitable clothes to wear.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Pippa appeared at the front door.

  ‘Freddie and I were worrying about what the hell we are supposed to wear while we’re here. Have you got any ideas?’

  ‘Actually yes. But now breakfast is ready.’

  Harriet wondered if her father was playing a massive joke on them. Here they were, sat around an expensive dining table, eating a breakfast fit for royalty, provided for them by their lovely housekeeper as if they were lords and ladies. Yet they didn’t have money, and they were expected to literally go and get their hands dirty in order to fulfil their father’s wishes. She shook her head, it made no sense.

  ‘So, Pip,’ Harriet said, pulling her brain back to the matter in hand. ‘What are we going to do about clothes?’

  ‘Well, you obviously both dress very expensively, which is not suitable for the animal sanctuary, I’m guessing.’

  ‘We know that,’ Freddie replied.

  ‘Right, so I thought we could go shopping.’ Pippa looked pleased with herself.

  ‘But we don’t have much money. We each have to live on forty quid a week after all,’ Harriet said. How on earth would they do that? Her face cream cost two hundred pounds and it was running low.

  ‘What was Dad thinking? I mean, I know we have food and bills paid,’ Freddie echoed.

  ‘And alcohol,’ Gus pointed out.

  ‘Oh yes, perhaps it’ll be all right after all.’ Freddie seemed satisfied again as he tucked into his breakfast.

  ‘I’ll take you shopping, but we’ll go to charity shops,’ Pippa announced with a flourish.

  ‘What?’ Harriet felt the colour drain from her face.

  ‘We have to wear other people’s clothes. Dead people’s clothes?’ Freddie said.

  ‘They probably won’t be dead people’s. Just cast-offs,’ Pippa said, cheerfully. ‘Gus, do you have old clothes?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve got my sort of Sunday clothes, jogging bottoms and so forth.’ He sounded so formal when he talked about slobbing out, Harriet thought, such a contradiction. ‘I just need to go to my flat to pick them up.’

  ‘Pippa, what about you?’ Freddie said. ‘You could do with some work clothes. I mean, no offence, but you look like you should be hosting a WI meeting.’

  ‘Ah, I have a stash of clothes upstairs,’ Pippa said. ‘Although, Freddie, for your information this is how I dress and I like it.’

  Harriet looked at her sister, she was wearing a silk blouse tucked into her black tailored trousers, her hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, she wore pearls at her neck, small diamond studs in her ears and her wedding and engagement rings. Pippa used to wear all sorts of crazy jewellery, she would put on multiple necklaces, huge earrings, and nearly every finger had a ring on it.
The old Pippa had had her own style, it was slightly crazy, but being beautiful, looking like a pale, blonde doll-like creature, meant she could pull anything off.

  ‘You used to look different,’ Harriet pointed out. ‘You always looked gorgeously bohemian actually.’

  ‘I know, but I’m not a kid anymore.’ She spoke determinedly and Harriet wondered if she would ever stop thinking of Pip as the baby of the family. At the moment she seemed more grown-up than any of them.

  ‘What is your secret stash then?’ Gus asked.

  ‘When I moved out, I left a lot of old jeans and stuff here. They’re still there, in my wardrobe. Daddy didn’t get rid of them. Actually, Harry, some of the jumpers might fit you, the trousers will be too short.’

  ‘And possibly a bit tight.’ Harriet was a UK ten but Pippa was an eight. ‘Why don’t you go and change then?’ Harriet grinned. ‘After all, you’ll look more at home in a charity shop if you do,’ Harriet laughed.

  They waved Gus off as he went to his flat to get his belongings and then opened the large, four-car garage that her father had built.

  ‘Wow, I’d forgotten about the Bentley,’ Harriet said, admiring the vintage car that was her father’s pride and joy.

  ‘Isn’t she a beauty? Gosh, do you think I’m allowed to drive this?’ Freddie asked.

  ‘No. The will said we could use the Range Rover.’ As well as the Bentley and Range Rover, Gwen’s Volkswagen Polo was in the garage, along with a couple of bicycles and a buggy which her father used to drive across his land.

  Harriet went back inside and located the keys for the Range Rover, kept in the console table in the entrance hall. Pippa emerged from the house transformed into someone who wouldn’t be so welcome in the WI. Her hair was loose, hanging below her shoulders, and she was wearing a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of flip-flops.

  ‘Gosh, I haven’t felt this casual in ages,’ she said.

  ‘Pip, when did you get so grown-up?’ Harriet asked, shaking her head.